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‘Oh, that’s super! I’m so glad.’ Tirza did her best to sound cheerful.

Gerry glanced to the beer mug on a glass-topped cane table. ‘I was enjoying a beer. What can I offer you?’

‘We haven’t come to stay,’ Tirza said quickly. ‘In fact, I haven’t even let Delphina know that I’m here.’

‘There’s always something to eat at your father’s house,’ said Gerry, ‘but everything will be in the deep freeze. Look, I’ll send you a couple of steaks and some milk, how’s that?’ He glanced at Hugo. ‘Tirza can organise a bit for you before you get on your way.’

‘Fine.’ There was a quirk to Hugo’s mouth. ‘A bite would always be appreciated.’

‘And, by the way, your father’s cellar is always well stocked, as you know,’ Gerry added. ‘Okay, be seeing you, Tirza. Cheerio ...’ His eyes brushed Hugo.

When they were passing the merino sheep and goats drinking at the trough beneath the big tree Hugo said, ‘You’d better come on to Cape Town with me.’

‘Why?’ Tirza’s eyes widened, as she turned to look at him.

‘Well, you’re sufficiently beautiful for his wife to be jealous if she comes back to find you here, alone with her husband.’

Turning on him furiously, she began to defend herself. ‘In a completely different house? I don’t intend moving into Gerry’s house, dammit! Besides, there are other people here ... you’re insulting!’

‘I’m being realistic,’ he replied easily.

‘You depress me,’ she murmured.

‘So will she be, if she comes back to find you here.’ Suddenly he laughed. ‘I’m telling you this as a friend.’

‘Oh, dry up!’ She turned away from him.

He parked the car and then followed her into the high-ceilinged Italian-tiled entrance hall. There were dried hydrangeas on an antique chest, which Tirza had put there on the last visit to the farm with her father. The flowers still managed to look attractively burnished, but then she had treated them. The Persian carpet on the floor still had that new smell about it.

‘This is a carved bridal chest, by the way,’ Tirza told him in a brittle voice. ‘It waits, in vain, for the bride who never came. It’s eighteenth century, I believe. Tch, tch! So sad. Through here...’ She led the way through double white-panelled doors into the richly coloured lounge which was huge and beamed and very beautiful.

‘And this is the drawing-room, you might say, also waiting for people who never come or, at the very least, seldom come.’ Now that she had actually met the woman who had let her father down she was filled with bitterness.

‘Why are you saying all this?’ Hugo snapped. ‘You can’t be in every home at one time.’

‘I wasn’t thinking of me, as it so happens.’ Her voice was unsteady.

The gold carpeting was thickly piled and topped by more Persian rugs with a ruby-red background and the curtains at the impressive windows were bronze shantung. Low, low sofas, upholstered in bronze, yellow and green floral linen, flanked a white fireplace, on either side of which were built-in alcoves, ducoed white, and housing blue-and-white Delft china. A collection of brass and copper gleamed and indicated that Delphina was giving careful attention to looking after the mansion. There were no fresh flowers in the room, but a huge copper fire-screen provided the necessary interest. An original Tinus de Jongh painting hung over the white fireplace.

Hugo went to stand at one of the long windows that overlooked a cobalt-blue swimming-pool, with boulder-backed ornamental walls, to provide shelter from the Karroo wind, tall cacti and white urns spilling out magenta bougainvillaea. Beyond, there was a superb view of those strange koppies and dry-looking but succulent bushes in the semidesert-like land which stretched away to more mauve-hazed koppies.

Looking at him, Tirza knew the need to be sarcastic again. He was also so quick to judge her on her father’s money.

‘If you want to use a ’ she pronounced it
ay
—‘bathroom there are five to choose from. You can take your choice.’ She smiled a radiant, meaningless smile that showed neither warmth nor relation to the bitterness behind her words. ‘There used to be eleven bathrooms and eleven toilets—by hotel standards, it wasn’t large, by any means, of course. Many rooms were broken down to enlarge others. You’ll find everything to be above average size, of course. My father had it all going for him, with a prominent architect working out the necessary alterations. Of course, the architect took certain liberties—like creating a movie set, for instance.’

‘You don’t have to impress me,’ he said. ‘I’m sure it will all make an excellent background to what you’ve earmarked it to be. The colour of the tiles, wallpaper, the size of the rooms and the view makes no difference to me.’

Suddenly he closed the distance between them and caught her in his arms, and before she could stop him, he kissed her with almost savagery, then held her back to say, ‘It’s a pity you didn’t get to find out what it was you wanted to know about what goes into starting a weaving industry in Swaziland, isn’t it? Still, now that we’ve got this far—to the actual site, as it were, perhaps we can begin to work things out, to our mutual interest. What do you say? You give me what
I
want and I’ll give you what you want.’

‘Let go of me!’ she snapped, resisting him. ‘Don’t think you’re unique, with your weaving industry and your boutiques and those orders from the reserve ... you’re not, and what’s more I.:.'

‘Shut up!’ Hugo muttered, his mouth fastening on to her own. For a moment she went on struggling and then, all at once, the resistance and rigidity drained from her and the ground seemed no longer to be solid beneath the sandals she was wearing.

His lips were cool and firm and his kisses were slow-moving, now, depriving her of all power of thought.

When he released her she stared at him. ‘What am I supposed to do,’ her breath was coming fast, ‘go down on my knees and say thank you?’

She found herself running from the room and when she reached the bedroom, which was supposed to be hers but which felt like a place on the moon to her, she knew that she was shaking beyond belief. Suddenly she felt terrifyingly alone. Crossing the pale willow-leaf green carpet, she went into the bathroom and splashed her face. Here again everything was sheer, expensive luxury, and she gazed at the floor and walls of pink-veined marble, delicate jade-green marble sunken bath and gold dolphin taps, the glittering array of crystal bottles and jars on heavy glass shelves, awaiting her use, and the fluffy jade and pink towels.

‘All you’ve ever thought about is money!’ she said aloud. ‘Money, money, money. Meetings, travelling to far-distant places. D.H., what have you
done
to me?’ She gave way to wild sobbing, swallowing and gulping and clenching her fingers. Then she calmed down and splashed her face and repaired the damage caused by tears.

The clothes hanging in the built-in cupboards with their antique-white louvred doors were strangers to her, although she had worn them before. She remembered how she had had a row with D.H. the day before they left the farm and how she had not even bothered to pack. She had simply walked out and left the clothes behind and, what was more staggering, she had not even missed them.

When she joined Hugo in the beamed lounge she was wearing a white, sleeveless dress which accentuated her tan and the slimness of her. Her hair had been scraped to the top of her head, where it was caught by a large tortoiseshell slide.

Going in the direction of the drinks cabinet, she said elaborately, ‘Let me fix you a drink, before your meal.’

‘Let me do it.’ He came to stand beside her and his eyes went over her face. ‘You’ve been crying.’

‘Well, yes! What do you expect?’

‘You’re nursing a sense of humiliation, because you responded.’ There was a compelling intensity in his dark blue eyes.

‘I am humiliated, yes. For once, you’re right.’ She stood to one side, watching him as he poured their drinks with flamboyant skill.

Something got the better of her and she suddenly wanted him to know about this house and who was behind the planning of it. ‘Do you know,’ she pronounced each word very carefully, because she felt like crying again, ‘at the time ...’ she stopped to gain control of herself, ‘at the time, I wondered why D.H. was buying a farm—I mean
—a farm
? I wondered about the alterations to this place. He furnished with such care, but I guess you can see that for yourself?’

‘Oh yes,’ he passed her the glass and she took it carefully, determined not to touch his fingers, ‘I noticed this same particular flair in the Bishopscourt mansion. I should imagine they’re all like this—all the Harper homes. You sound so bitter when you talk about it—but don’t worry, Tirza, I happen to like an organised environment.’ She noticed the humourless quirk to his mouth. ‘The last of the big spenders has nothing on my father.’ She took a sip of her drink, to calm her nerves, and her taste buds cringed and she began to cough and then she went on, ‘Even I wondered what D.H. was going to do with a sheep ranch.’ Suddenly she laughed, and the sound was tinged with hysteria.

‘Apart from the store complexes, high-rise housing complexes, a chalet in the Berg, holiday home at Plettenberg Bay and a Cape-style house in Cape Town, you mean?’ She knew he was goading her on.

‘Ah,’ she said, on a long breath, and then took another sip of her drink, ‘dear Cathy
has
been busy, hasn’t she? Well, yes, apart from all that...’

At that moment Delphina, wearing a red and white spotted
kopdoek
over her head, tapped on the white panelled door. ‘The meat is here now,’ she said. ‘When shall I grill it, Miss Tirza?’

Tirza was pale under her tan. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured. ‘I’ll be with you in a moment, Delphina.’

Moodily, she watched Hugo as he poured himself another drink and then he dropped ice into the glass.

‘I’ve decided, after all, to go back to Cape Town with you. After Delphina has prepared a grill for us and I’ve tossed a salad and we’ve eaten it, we can be on our way.’ In spite of all that had happened she wanted to be with him until the last possible moment and the thought of staying on here after he had gone filled her with despair.

‘Fine,’ he said, shrugging, ‘but what’s caused you to change your mind?’

‘I hadn’t intended staying here. I
made
that
up,
in the reserve. I was sick of having you
and the
Mobray females watching me like three
scientists.
What I had in mind was for you to drop
me off
at Phalaborwa, or somewhere, where
I
could find
my
own way back to Cape Town. I was coming
here
at a later stage.’ She put her glass down. ‘I’m
going
to help Delphina now.’

There were two cooking and preparing
areas, a
pantry and a breakfast nook, and beneath
an
elm canopy there was a stainless steel hob and an eye-level oven on each side. This cooking area
was
supposed to be used by the lady of the house, but Cathy had changed her mind about marrying
D.H.
On the paved floor there were brightly woven rugs, bearing the Swazi Signature name, ironically enough.

There was no sign of Delphina, so she
went
out to the courtyard and through a white archway to where Delphina and her husband lived in a cottage. She smiled as Delphina’s children appeared, to stand, timid and suspicious, in the doorway.

‘Hullo,’ she said. ‘Where’s your mother?’ While she was speaking her eyes flickered over the light brown faces, and then she saw the mongrel at their feet. It stared at her with light amber eyes and gave a saliva-dripping low snarl. On an impulse she said, ‘Hello, boy,’ but at the back of her fluttering mind was the knowledge that this dog was going to bite her.

Even though she had been expecting it, when
it
came she was absolutely unprepared for it. She was aware that she had cried out.

It was a bad bite—she knew that. And then Delphina was screaming from the door while her husband pushed past her and made, kicking, for the dog.

‘Oh!’ Delphina started shrieking. ‘This dog is very cheeky, Miss Tirza. I’m sorry. He has bitten
two
people now.’

Shocked beyond belief, Tirza said, ‘It’s all right, Delphina. It’s not your fault.’ There seemed to be a lot of blood and it was on her fingers where she had tried to close the wound, behind her knee, with them. ‘Mr Strauss will know what to do.’

When she went back into the lounge Hugo, glass in hand, was still standing where she had left him, but he turned as she came into the room. He put his glass down and came over to her. ‘What is it? Tirza, in God’s name, what’s happened to make you look like this?’

After a moment, in which she had moistened her dry mouth with the tip of her tongue, she said, ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to take me back to Gerry’s house.’ She had been holding her leg and when she took her fingers away they were covered in blood and she saw shock leap to his eyes. Then he took her fingers and held them, staring at them with something like horror.

‘It’s nothing,’ she told him quickly. ‘I’ve only been bitten by a dog.’ She turned slightly so that she could show him her leg and when he saw it he said, ‘Oh, my God. You’ve only been bitten by a dog!
Only?
That’s the understatement of the year! This is something for a doctor, Tirza, not Gerry Strauss!’

‘Gerry’s a doctor,’ she spoke with some impatience now. ‘Gerry’s a veterinary surgeon, in
other
words, quite apart from the fact that he
happens
to be my father’s farm manager. He’ll know what to do—and quickly.’

‘I’m not taking you to a vet,’ he said.

‘A vet is a doctor,’ she said, ‘quickly.
Don’t
argue with me—the blood is pouring from me, Hugo. Now is not the time to talk about it.’