Authors: Wilbur Smith
Rage (77 page)
As she watched him now she saw not a large bumbling young man in steel-rimmed spectacles, who made an expensive suit of fine wool look like a bag of laundry, and whose hair stood up in a startled tuft at the crown. She saw power.
Power fascinated Holly Carmichael, power in all its forms â wealth, reputation, influence and physical power. She shivered slightly as she recalled the feel of the muscle under his sleeve.
Holly was thirty-two years of age, almost ten years senior to him, and her divorce would count heavily against her. Both Centaine and Shasa Courtney were conservative and old-fashioned.
âThey'll have to be good to stop me,' she told herself. âI get what I want â and this is what I want, but it's not going to be a push-over.'
Then she considered the effect she had on Garry Courtney. She knew he was besotted with her. The first part would be easy. Without any effort at all she had already enmeshed him, she could enslave him as readily. After that would come the difficult part. She thought of Centaine Courtney and all she had heard about her, and she shivered again, this time with neither pleasure nor excitement.
Garry stopped in front of her. Although their eyes were on a level, he now seemed to tower over her as he glowered at her. A moment before she had felt herself perfectly in control, now suddenly she was uncertain.
âI've seen what you can do when you really try,' he said.
âI want you to try for me. I don't want second best. I don't want this.'
âI want you to try for me. I don't want second best. I don't want this.'
Holly stared at him in amazement. She had not even contemplated his rejection, certainly not in such brutal terms. Her shock persisted a moment longer and then was replaced with anger.
âIf that is your estimate of my work, Mr Courtney, I suggest you find yourself another architect,' she told him in a cold fury and he didn't even flinch.
âCome here,' he ordered. âLook at it from this angle. You've stuck that roof on the shopping centre without any regard to the view from the houses on this slope of the hill. And look here. You could have used the fairways of the golf course to enhance the aspect of these flagship properties instead of shutting them off the way you have.'
He had taken hold of her arm, and though she knew he was not expending even a small part of his strength, still the potential she could feel in his fingers frightened her a little. She no longer felt confident and patronizing as he pointed out the flaws in her design. While he spoke she knew that he was right. Instinctively she had been aware of the defects he was now exposing, but she had not taken the trouble to find the solutions to them. She had not expected somebody so young and inexperienced to be so discriminating â she had treated him like a doting boy who would accept anything she offered. Her anger was directed at herself as much as at him.
He finished his criticism at last and she said softly, âI'll return your deposit and we can tear up the contract.'
âYou signed the contract and accepted the deposit, Mrs Carmichael. Now I want you to deliver. I want something beautiful and startling and right. I want something that only you can give me.'
She had no answer, and his manner changed, he became peculiarly gentle and solicitous.
âI didn't mean to insult you. I think at the least you are the very best, and I want you to prove me right â please.'
She turned away from him and went to her drawing-board at the end of the room, slipped out of her jacket and tossed it over the desk and picked up one of her pencils.
With the pencil poised over the blank sheet, she said, âIt seems that I've got a lot of lost ground to make up. Here we goâ' and she drew the first bold, decisive line across the sheet. âAt least we know now what we don't want. Let's find out what we do want. Let's start with the shopping centre.'
He came to stand behind her and watched in silence for almost twenty minutes before she glanced back at him with the violet eye glinting through the veil of shining blonde hair. She didn't have to ask the question.
âYes,' he nodded.
âDon't go away,' she said. âWhen you are near I can feel your mood and judge your response.'
He took off his jacket and threw it beside hers over the desk top, and he stood beside her in his shirtsleeves with his hands thrust into his trouser pockets and his shoulders hunched. He remained absolutely still, his concentration monumental, and yet his presence seemed to inspire her to tap the mystical springs of her talent. At last she saw in her mind how it should have been and she began to rough it out, her pencil flying and flicking over the sheet.
When the day faded, he went to close the curtains and switch on the overhead lights. It was after eight when she at last threw down her pencil and turned to him. âThat's the feeling I want to give it. You were right â the first attempt wasn't worthy.'
âYes, I was right in one other respect. You are the very best.' He picked up his jacket and shrugged it over his massive shoulders, and she felt a tingle of dismay. She didn't want him to go yet, she knew when he did she would
feel exhausted and spent. The effort of creation had drained her resources.
feel exhausted and spent. The effort of creation had drained her resources.
âYou can't send me home to begin cooking at this hour,' she said. âThat would be the sadistic act of a truly cruel taskmaster.'
Suddenly all his confidence evaporated, and he blushed and mumbled something inaudible. She knew she would have to take charge from here.
âThe least you can do is feed the slave. How about offering me dinner, Mr Courtney?'
She created her usual stir of masculine interest as she preceded Garry into the restaurant, and she was glad he had noticed. She was surprised by the aplomb with which he discussed the wine list with the
maître
until she remembered that Weltevreden was one of the leading wineries of the Cape of Good Hope.
maître
until she remembered that Weltevreden was one of the leading wineries of the Cape of Good Hope.
During dinner their conversation was serious, and she was relieved not to have to endure the usual banalities of a first date. They discussed the Sharpeville crisis and its implications, social and economic, and she was amazed at the depth of his political insight until she remembered that his father was a minister in Verwoerd's cabinet. He had a ringside seat.
âIf it wasn't for that Prince of Wales check suit and those ghastly steel-framed spectacles,' she thought, âand the crest of hair that makes him look like Woody Woodpeckerâ'
When he asked her to dance she had misgivings. They were the only couple on the tiny circular floor, and there were a dozen people in the room she knew. However, the moment he put his arm around her waist she relaxed. Despite his bulk he was agile and light on his feet with an excellent sense of timing, and she began to enjoy herself, until abruptly his dancing style changed and he held her differently. For a while she was puzzled. She attempted to maintain the close contact of hips which had enabled her
to anticipate his moves, and only then she became aware of his arousal. She was at first amused and then despite herself intrigued. Like the rest of him it was massive and hard. She played a little game of brushing lightly against him and withdrawing, all the while chatting casually and feigning total ignorance of his predicament. Afterwards he drove her in the MG to where her own car was parked. She hadn't ridden in an open sports car since her varsity days and the wind in her hair gave her a nostalgic thrill.
to anticipate his moves, and only then she became aware of his arousal. She was at first amused and then despite herself intrigued. Like the rest of him it was massive and hard. She played a little game of brushing lightly against him and withdrawing, all the while chatting casually and feigning total ignorance of his predicament. Afterwards he drove her in the MG to where her own car was parked. She hadn't ridden in an open sports car since her varsity days and the wind in her hair gave her a nostalgic thrill.
He insisted on following her Mercedes back to Bantry Bay to see her safely home and they said goodnight on the pavement outside her apartment block. She considered inviting him up for coffee, but her sure instinct warned her to protect the shining image of her that he so obviously had conceived.
Instead she told him, âI'll have some more drawings for you to look at by the end of next week.'
This time she put everything of her talent into the preliminary sketches, and she knew they were good. He came to her office again and they worked over them until late and then dined together. It was Thursday night and the restaurant was half empty. They had the dance floor to themselves and this time she worked her hips lightly and cunningly against him as they moved.
When she said goodnight outside her apartment block, she asked, âI suppose you will be at the Met on Saturday?'
The Metropolitan Handicap was the premier race on the Cape turf calendar.
âI don't race,' Garry replied reluctantly. âWe are polo people, and Nana, my grandmother, doesn't approve of meâ' he stopped himself as he realized how callow that sounded, and he ended, ââ well, somehow I've just never got around to racing.'
âWell, it's about time you did,' she said firmly. âAnd I need a partner for Saturday â that's if you don't object.'
Garry sang all the way home to Weltevreden, bellowing happily into the rushing night air as he drove the MG through the curves and dips of the mountain road.
It took Garry a while to understand that the actual racing was not the main attraction of the meeting. It was secondary to the fashion show and the complicated social interaction of the racegoers.
Amongst the bizarre and outrageous creations that some of the women wore, Holly's floating blue silk and the wide-brimmed hat with a single real pink rose on the brim were elegant and understated, and drew envious glances from the other women. Garry discovered that he knew nearly everybody in the members' enclosure; many of them were friends of his family, and Holly introduced him to those he did not know. They all reacted to the Courtney name, and Holly was subtly attentive, drawing him into conversation with these strangers until he felt at ease.
They made a remarkable couple, âBeauty and the Beast', as one of the unkind wags suggested, and a buzz of gossip followed them around the ring: âHolly has been out cradle-snatching', and âCentaine will have her burned at the stake'.
Garry was totally oblivious to the stir they were creating, and once the horses were brought into the ring for the first race he was in his element. Horses were part of the life at Weltevreden. Shasa had carried him on the saddle before he could walk, and he had a natural eye for horseflesh.
The first race was a maiden handicap, and the betting was wide open as none of these two-year-olds had raced before. Garry singled out a black colt in the parade. âI like his chest and legs,' he told Holly and she checked his number on the card.
âRhapsody,' she said. âThere has never been a good horse with an ugly name â and he's trained by Miller and ridden by Tiger Wright.'
âI don't know about that, but I do know that he is in peak condition and he wants to work,' Garry told her. âJust look at him sweating already.'
âLet's have a bet on him,' Holly suggested, and Garry looked dubious. The family strictures against gambling echoed in his ears, but he didn't want to offend Holly or appear childish in her eyes.
âWhat do I do?' he asked.
âYou see those gangsters standing up there?' She pointed at the line of bookmakers. âYou pick any one of them, give him your money and say, “Rhapsody to win.” She handed Gerry a ten-rand note. âLet's dib ten each.'
Garry was appalled. Ten rand was a great deal of money. It was one thing to borrow two million on a legitimate business scheme, but quite another thing to hand ten to a stranger in a loud suit with a cigar. Reluctantly he produced his wallet.
Rhapsody was in the ruck at the turn, but as they came clear of the bend, Tiger Wright steered him wide and then asked him to run. The colt jumped away and caught the leaders in front of the stand where Holly was hopping up and down and holding her hat on with one hand. He was two lengths clear at the post and Holly threw both arms around Garry's neck and kissed him in front of ten thousand beady eyes.
As Garry handed over her share of their winnings, she said, âOh, wouldn't it be fun to own one's very own racehorse.'
He phoned her apartment at six o'clock the following morning.
âGarry?' she mumbled. âIt's Sunday. You can't do this to me â not at six o'clock.'
âThis time I've got something to show you,' he said, and his enthusiasm was so infectious that she agreed weakly.
âGive me an hour to wake up properly.'
He drove her down to the curving beach of False Bay
beyond Muizenberg and parked at the top of the dunes. Forty horses with their apprentice jockeys and grooms were cantering along the edge of soft white sand or wading bareback in the curling green surf. Garry led her down to the group of four men who were supervising the training and introduced her.
beyond Muizenberg and parked at the top of the dunes. Forty horses with their apprentice jockeys and grooms were cantering along the edge of soft white sand or wading bareback in the curling green surf. Garry led her down to the group of four men who were supervising the training and introduced her.
âThis is Mr Miller.' The trainer and his assistants looked at Holly approvingly. She wore a pink scarf around her forehead but her thick blonde hair fell freely down the back of her neck and the short marine peajacket emphasized the length and shape of her legs in the ski pants and calf boots.
The trainer whistled to one of his apprentices and only when he turned the colt out of the circle of horses did Holly recognize it.
âRhapsody,' she cried.
âCongratulations, Mrs Carmichael,' the trainer said. âHe's going to do us all proud.'
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