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Directly she got to the door she slipped her feet out of her wet sandals and then she went into the long, exciting lounge which led directly off the veranda.

The mohair upholstery, curtains and carpeting served as a reminder of why she had decided to come here, in the first place ... which was to feel her way in getting a weaving industry together on her father’s farm in the Karroo.

After the fury of the rain outside, everything in here seemed quiet. It was difficult to believe, when she looked up at that golden thatch, which rose up in angles like the roof of a church, that the elements had gone wild. In a corner, next to the honey-hued curtains, there was an arrangement of carefully prepared and dried bougainvillaea, in shades of bronze and powdery mauve.

Cathy came through from one of the other rooms and crossed over to turn on the golden-shaded lamps. ‘It’s quite dark now,’ she said conversationally, as she moved about the room, ‘because of this deluge. What a storm! Well,’ she swung round suddenly, taking Tirza by surprise, ‘how did things go up there?’

Suddenly Tirza was aware that there was a game to play, for some unknown reason. Cathy had an angry look in her dark eyes, even though her voice was mild enough.

‘Oh, fine. I just let him know that one of his models,’ she broke off as Cathy cut in sweetly, ‘and his buyer,’ and then continued, feeling at a distinct disadvantage now, ‘had arrived.’

‘You’re a remarkable girl, Tirza.’ It was humiliating to have Cathy look at her like that.

‘So are you, Cathy. Tell me, what
did
happen between you and my father? Why did you break it off—and at the last moment, too?’

‘Well, since you’ve succeeded in changing the subject, my dear girl, I just couldn’t go through with it.’ Cathy lifted her shoulders and allowed them to drop. ‘I may live way out in the country, to all outward appearances, but it’s easy to get around here. I have my friends in Swaziland, the casinos, the boutique. The idea of living in the semi-desert Karroo suddenly turned me off. Also, I had Paige to think of. She would have gone mad, because she would have come with me, of course.’

‘I see.’

‘By the way,’ Cathy went on, still in that same hard voice, ‘Hugo Harrington will be dining here this evening.’ She kept her eyes on Tirza, obviously waiting for her reaction. ‘I’ve just telephoned him.’

A cold, sobering shock ran through Tirza and after a little pause she said, taking advantage of the situation, ‘Oh, he didn’t tell me. Anyway, the fact that I’ve already seen him does away with those tedious introductions, doesn’t it?’

The strain of trying to say all the right things was already beginning to tell on her and she was plunged into depression.

‘I think I’d better go and change, Cathy.’

‘Yes, you do that, darling.’ Cathy’s smile did not reach her eyes.

Paige Mobray
was tanned and blonde, unlike her mother, but shared her lack of inches.

‘I was surprised to hear you knew one another.’ Paige was regarding Hugo Harrington with something like distrust and disappointment, and Tirza, watching them all, could feel her pulse quicken.

‘You’re thinking, of course, that perhaps it was a love affair.’ Hugo’s voice was level, though the mockery in it was pronounced. Looking across at Cathy, he said, ‘Here, let me do that for you.’ He went over to Cathy, who was busy at a tall yellow-wood drinks cabinet next to the windows where the dried bougainvillaea glowed richly against the white wall and gold mohair curtaining.

‘Well,’ Paige went on, ‘if you don’t tell me, my imagination will get to work, won’t it?’ Her voice sounded forced, and so did the light laugh that followed the question.

‘Oh, come,’ Hugo retorted in a careless way, ‘you should know better than to ask.’

The storm had passed over, but the lawns were saturated and soggy outside. A moon raced through wisps of silver and black cloud and it was much cooler.

Hugo was obviously very much at home in the Mobray house, Tirza found herself thinking, as she sipped the drink which he had passed her. She wondered why the idea of Paige and Hugo should depress her. It had nothing to do with her, after all.

Later, they dined in a dining-room rich with beams and thatch, glowing amber-shadowed mohair curtains and a table made of tamboti wood. Hugo’s smile was attractive and he was using it deliberately each time he looked, or spoke, to Paige. Tirza felt numb and unreal and asked herself what she was doing in this house. At twenty-three she was in a position to choose her own accommodation, but in view of the fact that she wanted her father to take her into the business and, what was more, had the farm in the Karroo lined up as a base for a weaving industry, she had allowed herself to be placed in this impossible position.

‘Well, Tirza, did you buy from the Swazi Signature?’ asked Paige, and Tirza, looking at her, knew at once that her trials were only just beginning.

Aware of Hugo’s eyes on her, she said, ‘No, I didn’t. In any case, by the time I visited there they were about to close.’

‘Oh, so you came to buy?’ Hugo looked at Tirza with an expression that unnerved her. ‘You didn’t say. What exactly did you have in mind?’ Something like interest stirred in his eyes.

‘That’s a leading question,’ she answered lightly. ‘You see, I’m not quite sure. I would like to buy something before I leave Swaziland ... from what I’ve seen of Cathy’s curtains, carpets and upholstery.’

‘And of course you’ll be buying on a
large scale.
That follows.’ Paige looked at Tirza.

It was obvious that Paige and Cathy were trying to force her into being the one to confess to
Hugo
Harrington that she was here not only to model for him but to buy for Harper’s and, what was more important, get ideas from the Swazi Signature so that she could begin to go about starting
her
own weaving industry in the Karroo, which of course would create opposition—when one thought about it.

‘Come on, Tirza, confess why you’re here, in the first place.’ Paige’s eyes were glittering with mockery.

‘Confess?’ Tirza’s voice was cool. ‘I don’t understand, Paige. Cathy, this is a smooth wine, isn’t it?’ She held her glass between her eyes and the candlelight so that the deep glow of the wine was emphasised.

‘I’m glad you like it,’ Cathy answered, and her thoughts could be seen in her eyes. Well, Tirza thought, she would tell Hugo, in her own time.

There were no fires on the Mudzimba range now. They had been left dampened and smouldering by the rain. The flames had, at first, been tamed and then put out, to smoulder in places.

After dinner they went through to the lounge where coffee was served and, for a while, conversation revolved around the forthcoming fashion show at the Royal Swazi Hotel. Tirza joined in the discussion and refused to let Paige see that she was affected by her remarks.

‘Tell me,’ Paige said, later, ‘where are you taking me tonight?’ She glanced at Hugo with her sweetly composed, spiteful eyes, her blonde hair falling in tiny bleached-tipped petals, hugging her small head and clinging to her neck. For such a short girl, Tirza found herself thinking, Paige’s neck was really very long and slender. Her smooth tanned face was controlled, like the rest of her, and she seldom smiled outright.

At that particular moment, however, the telephone on a small writing bureau began to ring and Cathy went to answer it, and then, after a few words, punctuated by soft laughter, she called out, ‘For you, Tirza. It’s your father.’

By the time Douglas Harper had finished talking to his daughter, Paige and Hugo had left for the Casino.

They had not wasted much time, Tirza thought, but at least their absence gave her time to get herself together.

After a period of desultory conversation she said, ‘Cathy, are they engaged? Hugo and Paige?’

‘No, not yet. I suppose
you
have somebody waiting for you, back in Cape Town, Tirza?’

‘Well, nobody special.’ Tirza shrugged. ‘Would you mind terribly if I went to bed? I’m really tired.’ She tried to smile.

‘Not at all. We’ll talk later, Tirza. Catch up on things—you know. I’ll be interested to hear everything.’ Cathy spoke on a cool note, although she was smiling.

‘Yes, I’d like that. It seems strange when you consider—what might have been, Cathy.’

‘You mean because at one time your father happened to be my major preoccupation?’
Cathy
laughed lightly. ‘Well, yes, I nearly
did marry him.
He’s a fascinating and attractive man,
but I came
to the conclusion that I’m happier living my
own
life in my own way. I should have felt so
restricted
in the Karroo. I’d hate life to become a habit.’

Later, as she prepared for bed, Tirza found
her
self seething. It was a pity, she thought, that Cathy had not confessed her desire to live her life
her
own way before D.H. had embarked on the alterations to the house—or at least before work on it had progressed too far.

Turning out her bedside light, she lay staring into the darkness. She had come a long way to make a complete fool of herself.

Paige had already left for Mbabane by the time she joined Cathy for breakfast the following morning. They ate on a semi-enclosed veranda which overlooked a spectacular view of the Mudzimba range. The mauve sprays of petria, each tiny flower a work of art, stood out sharply against the
white
pillars. Raindrops still glinted on the flowers and the breeze was cool, although there was a real threat of heat to come.

‘Cathy,’ Tirza’s voice was stilted, ‘I’ve been thinking. I’d like to hire a car while I’m here—it would save a lot of trouble all round. As it is, you’re kindly putting me up. How do I go about this? There must be a place in Mbabane?’

She detected Cathy’s annoyance, controlled though it was. ‘I suppose you feel you’d be able to get around more, is that it? On your own? Don’t forget, though, I’m also involved in the fashion show and I’ll be driving out to the Royal Swazi Hotel to prepare for it. We can travel together.’ Cathy spoke in the kind of voice that had the power to put her at a disadvantage, Tirza thought.

‘I hadn’t forgotten, Cathy, but there are certain things I’d like to do on my own—visit the marketplaces, and so on.’

‘Well, okay, if that’s what you want,’ Cathy replied. ‘I’ll look up the telephone number for you. They’ll deliver the car here, by the way. Hugo seemed surprised to hear that you had intentions of buying, didn’t he? He’ll be even more surprised to hear that you intend making a study of how to go about starting a weaving industry. I suppose you had in mind using his place as a kind of showpiece?’ Cathy helped herself to fruit, then glanced up.

Tirza’s green eyes darkened with anger. ‘You put your own twist on it, Cathy. It’s not really that way. It sounds awful, the way you put it.’

Ignoring the remark, Cathy said, ‘Hugo’s partner’s name is Seymour. He’s married and lives on the other side of town. He supervises the running of the industry in Swaziland and Hugo has this other place in Cape Town, of course, where the goods are sent. Perhaps Cape Town is big enough to cope, though, with an influx?’ There was an undercurrent of meaning to her words.

‘You’re exaggerating, of course.’ Although it was an effort to speak calmly Tirza even managed a smile.

The Mazda 323 arrived soon after lunch and Tirza lost no time in getting out of the Mobray house, explaining to Cathy that she wanted to do a spot of sightseeing while she was in Swaziland.

When she reached the turn-off, however, she slackened speed and then, after a moment of indecision, she turned the car in the direction of the Swazi Signature.

Now that there was no rain and the sun was shining, it was easy to spot the showroom and office complex, which was on the opposite side of the drive leading to the studio.

In a kind of shed nearby, raw mohair hung in the sun to dry. The yam had been dyed and the range of vibrant colours was exciting.

There was a charm and allure that anyone would find hard to resist about the settlement. There was the cheerful sound of laughter and talk, as Swazi women, in traditional vivid coloured garments and beehive hairstyles, went about weaving, spinning, carding and dyeing.

The building was white and had a thatched roof. Glass-paned French doors opened out to a paved veranda which had no roof, but there was a low parapet wall and there were tubs of petunias, adding more colour to everything. In this wide-open setting, beneath a golden yellow sun, the perfume coming from the flowers was haunting, somehow. There was also a low table, into which a sun-umbrella had been inserted, and white chairs, upholstered in yellow.

Hugo was alone in the showroom and he looked up. Looking at him, Tirza sensed, immediately, that he had found out. ‘Hello,’ she was confused. ‘It—it looks quite different in the sunshine, doesn’t it? The whole settlement, I mean.’ She was wearing cocoa-coloured slacks and a white shirt, open low at the neckline, and Hugo looked at her for what seemed an endless moment before he said, ‘Why don’t you come straight out with it?’ She saw that his dark blue eyes appeared almost black with anger and his mouth was hard. It was perfectly obvious that Paige and Cathy had been to work. Before she could reply he went on, ‘Where shall we begin? Well, the carpets, rugs, tapestries and fabrics are sent to agents in Johannesburg, Cape Town and other main cities, not to mention smaller towns—and, by the way, remind me to make a list of all the names and addresses for you. However, the goods which you see here are also sold here, in Swaziland, to visitors and tourists. Forgive me for being sensitive about it, but I happen to be allergic to any form of underhandedness, Miss Theron.’ So he still did not know her name!

Before she could even begin to defend herself he went on, ‘Those long skirts and caftans over there, all in vivid and striking colours, command haute couture prices among cosmopolitan leaders of fashion. Okay?’ His dark blue shirt was open to his waist and he was wearing cream levis and a wide leather belt, which seemed to emphasise his strength and masculinity.