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‘Apart from that, I suppose we were both to blame. Cathy is...’

Tirza cut in, ‘Cathy Mobray changed her mind, more or less at the last moment, and yet all the time I knew nothing about what was going on. Tell me, was Paige, Cathy’s daughter, kept in the dark? It would be interesting to know, D.H.’

‘You would have been told, in time.’ He was beginning to sound irritable again. ‘Look, Tirza, let me get in touch with Cathy.’

‘I don’t want to stay with this woman.’ She stood up and went across to the chunk of malachite. Trailing her fingers over its surface, she glanced angrily at her father.

‘Well, it’s a stipulation I have to make, like it or not. If you’re going to Swaziland on your own, to buy, you will stay with somebody I know. Take it or leave it. It’s your choice.’

‘You’re an impossible man,’ she said crossly. ‘You don’t ever seem to mind when you leave me here alone while you go off to a different country.’

‘That’s different. You’re left behind in good hands, and in your own home.’

‘Won’t you change your mind?’ she asked. ‘I’ll be perfectly all right in a hotel.’

‘You will stay in a private home, or not at all.’

‘Okay,’ she said on a hard little breath. ‘If that’s how you want it.’

She tried to conceal her surprise when her father tapped on her door some time later. ‘I’ve been in touch with Cathy,’ he told her, getting to the point.

‘You’ll be very welcome to stay there. I won’t pretend that I’m in favour of all this—I’m not. Anyway, before you leave I’ll arrange a meeting with Werner, in my office. He’ll put you wise about one or two things. He does our buying in Lesotho.’

‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘You see, I really want to go.’

‘By the way, I merely told Cathy that you were one of our buyers.’

‘Fine.’ Tirza felt a stab of apprehension and bit her lip.

The following day she drove into town and met Hugo Harrington at the Bistro Baobab. The atmosphere of the bistro was decidedly casual and lunch was already in full swing. Massed poppies were arranged everywhere and the striped tan-and-white awnings had been lowered, against the sun, at all the arched windows.

They were shown to their table and were immediately involved in choosing partridge with a garnish of button onions and bacon rolls which would be served with buttered peas and new potatoes and a good wine to go with it. Without realising it, Tirza had the unconscious grace that stems from the kind of expensive life her father had provided for her, but now that all the preliminaries were over she looked across the round table at Hugo Harrington and her green eyes were wide and worried. He was taller than she remembered, she found herself thinking, as she met the full force of his dark blue eyes.

‘I really don’t know why I’m here,’ she told him. ‘I am, quite possibly, not going to model for you.’

He leaned indolently back in his chair. ‘Nevertheless, in a mood of self-searching and indecision, you decided to have lunch with me, is that it?’

‘I was being tactful when I agreed. You see, I was in the middle of having coffee after dinner, and I wanted to get back,’ she explained.

‘In other words, you were with a man?’ He glanced idly round the restaurant and then returned to lock his eyes with hers.

‘Yes.’ She did not tell him that the man in question was her father.

‘So he came back?’ He went on regarding her.

‘No.’

‘I was right, then. So you rustled up someone else?’ He was watching her with lazy scorn.

‘I’ve known him a long time.’ She hoped he did not hear her small unsettled intake of breath. ‘But all this is beside the point, don’t you think? I didn’t agree to have lunch with you to discuss my private life, after all.’

‘Fine. So let’s get down to business. It’s a logical conclusion, Tirza, that you do in fact have modelling at the back of your mind. Right?’

‘Well, I’ll be honest. I’m interested in what you have to tell me.’

Their food arrived at that particular moment and then when they were settled Hugo said, ‘After Swaziland we have permission to put on a fashion show in the Game Park. We’ve never done this before. It’s a breakthrough to promote our garments. At the same time, I’ll be combining this with work I usually do on these visits. This work revolves around supplying the curio shops in the Park with our goods.’

‘I see. How many girls will be going to the Game Reserve, by the way?’ Tirza wished he would let up on his scrutiny of her.

‘Two. You and one other girl, plus a wardrobe mistress. As a matter of fact, these two women run our boutique in Mbabane.’

After a moment she said, ‘The way you spoke, I imagined a whole ... fleet of models.’

‘Does that worry you? In any case, there’ll be four girls, five with you, participating in our show at the Royal Swazi Hotel. This amount is to be whittled down to two models for the Game Park. And by the way, we fly from Cape Town to Swaziland to meet up with the others. That’s how I commute between our business there and in Cape Town. So that long intimate drive, which might just be bothering you at the back of your mind, is non-existent ... unfortunately.’

Slim and glamorous, with careful make-up, Tirza chose to ignore his remark.

‘But,’ he went on, ‘we’ll travel together on the flight.’ His dark blue eyes fenced with hers and she felt the vitality of him. He was wearing well-cut dark trousers and a white silk shirt and she was aware of the disturbing glimpse of his tanned skin between his shirt where he had left the buttons undone. A gold chain and medallion gleamed between the dark hairs on his chest when he moved. There was, she thought, an arrestingly hard, masculine beauty about him. In fact, he looked almost piratical.

Turning away from him, she made a big thing of looking at the view. From where their table was situated they could see the winding streets, beyond the sun-awnings, and glimpses of Table Mountain. Before entering the bistro she had noticed that the breeze seemed to carry with it spicy and fruity scents, mingled with sweet and sour and the flowers that blazed in tins of water at the flower sellers nearby.

When she lifted her glass it was with a hand that shook slightly. Looking across at Hugo, she saw that he had been about to drink from his glass and was aware of his quick, considering look over her body and then they drank slowly, their eyes on each other.

‘I really can’t make up my mind,’ she told him, after a moment. ‘I’ll be honest with you, I
do
have to go to Swaziland on business, though.’

‘Then let me make up your mind for you.’ His smile held sardonic amusement, but his blue eyes were watchful, she felt.

‘No, give me tonight to think it over,’ she murmured.

‘You wanted this opportunity to get to know me better, is that it?’ He smiled faintly. ‘You’re more cautious than I believed, Tirza. And by the way, you never did tell me ... Tirza who?’

‘Models are usually known only by their first names,’ she replied in her most expressionless voice. ‘You should know that.’

‘What’s the mystery?’ he asked abruptly.

‘There is no mystery, but in any case,’ she made up her mind on the spur of the moment, ‘my name is Tirza Theron.’ It was not altogether a lie, she consoled herself. She had been christened Tirza Theron Harper, after her mother.

‘Who do you usually model for?’ he asked.

‘
When
I model, you mean?’ She gave him a casual smile. ‘Oh,’ she shrugged, ‘I have a few irons in the fire. It’s too complicated, really ...’

‘What kind of dumb answer is that, Tirza Theron?’

‘Well, a boutique called Lotus Flower, if that means anything.’

She saw that he was trying, very hard, not to be irritable, and she felt her heart begin to accelerate. Her game of deceit was beginning to unnerve her already. It was, she knew, absurd to feel so hung up about being Douglas Harper’s daughter
... the
Douglas Harper of Harper’s.

'In other words,’ Hugo reached again for his glass, openly going over her face and shoulders with his blue eyes, ‘you do just enough to make life interesting.’

‘For someone who’s only known me a short time, you certainly form a lot of opinions, don’t you?’ There was an edge to her voice.

‘You seem to forget, I’m your future employer. I’ve got to be sure about these things.’ He had a way of turning a situation to his own advantage, she thought, looking into his mocking eyes.

‘Oh, quite.’ Her voice was very cool.

‘And you dressed to please me, right?’ He gave her a brief smile and then glanced into his drink.

‘Really? What makes you think that?’

‘Your skin is carefully made up, your tawny blonde hair luxuriant and left to cascade those slim shoulders, nails beautifully manicured and polished. Those dreamy green eyes were shaded by oversize sunglasses, when we met outside the restaurant, just to create enough mystery.’ He reached for his glass again and held it with his fingertips around the rim, and went on studying her. The expression in his eyes seemed darker as he made his calculations about her.

‘Perhaps I should have worn a plain black sweater—and twelve rows of pearls?’ There was a degree of annoyance in her voice.

‘Well,’ he smiled, ‘they are coming back into fashion, after all—pearls, sweaters, sequins, padded shoulders. Your mother probably wore them.’

‘I didn’t know my mother,’ she said stiffly. ‘She died in India when I was little.’

‘I see.’ She saw his eyes flicker. ‘Well, to get back to business. Your mouth is too wide, of course, your green eyes too large for that bronze face of yours but, somehow, together, they have an incredible effect. You’ll do.’

‘I need the work,’ she told him. ‘For this reason I have put up with your bantering and, for this reason, I’m going to accept your offer.’

‘You can’t seriously expect me to believe that!’ Hugo sat back and regarded her. ‘Just be honest and say that what you do need is to get away for a while, and I’ve traded on this.’

‘Why?’

‘Because you have the right statistics and I want this show in Swaziland—and in the Game Reserve, for that matter—to be a success. It’s as simple as that.’

‘In other words, you’re using me because of what you saw and heard the other night at the Holiday Inn, is that it?’

‘Yes. And let’s face this
—you
are using
me'
His gaze locked momentarily with hers.

For a while Tirza remained aloof and listened to him while he spoke about modelling fees and what would be expected of her.

Later, she said, ‘I’ll fly up on my own. I have one or two things to settle before I leave Cape Town. I’ll leave a day after you.’ She watched him as he took a sip of his wine and listened to her without any change of expression and then he said, ‘Fine. In this case, Tirza, you will sign a contract before I leave for Swaziland.’

She could feel the beating of her heart. ‘Why?’

‘You must be joking,’ he laughed shortly. ‘I plan ahead. To make sure you get there.’

‘Contracts are made to be broken.’ She regarded him with new eyes.

‘Not my contracts. And you’d do well to remember this, Miss Theron.’

After lunch they went to the offices of his Cape Town branch and when she had signed the necessary contract Hugo said, ‘I’m pinning you down. This must be upsetting for you.’ He stared deeply into her eyes and the tone of his voice was slightly sarcastic.

‘Not at all.’ Tirza struggled to keep her temper under control. ‘I find the contract businesslike and in order.’

On the other hand, she was aware of a complete sense of freedom ... freedom from everything which had gone to make up her short-lived romance with Nigel Wright.

When they parted he touched her with his eyes. ‘I’ll meet your plane in Swaziland,’ he said, for she had already reserved a seat on the plane from his office, using the name she had used on the contract—Tirza Theron.

‘That won’t be necessary,’ she told him, making up her mind on the spur of the moment. ‘You see, I’m being met by a friend. I’ll be staying with her, in fact. I’ll contact you immediately upon my arrival.’

For a moment their eyes held. ‘I’ll be expecting you, Tirza Theron.’

She
arrived in Swaziland in sweltering heat and looked around for Cathy Mobray who had arranged, on the phone, with her father to meet her.

‘You’re Tirza, of course, and you look just like your father.’

Turning, Tirza said, ‘Oh, hello. You must be Mrs Mobray.’ She laughed shyly.

On the way to the car Cathy said, ‘Please call me Cathy—everybody does. I’d feel so old, otherwise. You see, I always seem to mix with young people.’ Although she had spoken almost carelessly, Tirza had the feeling that Cathy Mobray was feeling more than just a little tense at meeting Douglas Harper’s daughter. ‘Paige is at work, of course,’ she went on. ‘We both help run a boutique in Mbabane.’

‘Really? Birds of a feather, then,’ Tirza smiled.

A flicker of interest and surprise crossed Cathy’s face. ‘Don’t tell me that’s what
you
do, Tirza? I mean, you don’t have to work, surely?’

‘I have an interest in a small boutique. My real work is that of buyer for Harper’s.’

‘Yes, your father told me that part of it.’

‘It’s to be a case of killing two birds with one stone, as he often says,’ Tirza laughed lightly, in an effort to feel more relaxed with this woman.

‘I’m to do a spot of modelling while I’m in Swaziland. Into the bargain, I’m doing a bit of scouting around. You see, I intend opening a weaving industry in the not so distant future, thus putting the farm in the Karroo to further use.’

‘And so it’s really killing three birds with one stone,’ Cathy replied. ‘I’m really curious about all this. You must tell me more when we get home.’

Cathy Mobray’s house was calm and peaceful and had a spectacular view of the Ezulwini Valley, surrounded by the majestic Mudzimba range. Ivy and petria trailed down the pillars of the wide, spacious veranda.

Dark, stormy clouds had gathered above the mountains and it looked as though a storm was about to break and rain would put out the mountain fires which were sending up swirls of dark grey smoke, in various areas.