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The fashion shows had been well patronised and ended with a cheese and wine party, on a note of success. Slim and beautiful in green silk, Tirza was sipping a drink when Hugo joined her and she was more than just a little surprised when he said, ‘You were very good.’ Although his voice was completely impersonal her awareness of him was far from vague.

‘Thank you,’ she answered, lowering her lashes to look at her glass.

‘As you know,’ he went on, ‘we leave in the morning.’

‘Yes. I’ve already phoned the car hire people to come and collect my car,’ she said.

‘You were going to travel with the Mobrays in the Kombi and I was to follow in my car, about an hour later. I have an important business appointment here, first.’

‘You say
—were going to travel
with the Mobrays,’ she lifted her lashes and looked directly at him. ‘Does this mean you’re releasing me from the contract?’

‘No,’ his voice was abrupt. ‘It doesn’t mean that. It simply means that in view of the fact that you’re not on good terms with them you’ll be travelling with me.’ There was a slight flicker in his eyes. ‘I don’t think they like you very much.’

The reaction was immediate. ‘The dislike is mutual,’ Tirza replied tartly, beginning to play with her glass. ‘I’ve got a good mind not to go at all. I’ll probably fly back home.’

‘I don’t advise you to try.’ Hugo’s eyes were suddenly ice-blue.

It was absurd to feel as excited as this, she found herself thinking.

‘What time shall I be ready and waiting?’ she asked, with sarcasm.

‘I’m leaving about ten,’ he told her, and pride kept her silent.

Moodily she watched him as he made his unhurried way to Paige, who was standing with a cluster of people.

Turning, she gave her attention to Hugo’s partners, Simon Reynolds, who had been standing next to her but had discreetly moved away when Hugo had addressed her.

She was waiting in the foyer the following morning when Hugo arrived to pick her up.

‘I’m surprised Paige Mobray allowed this arrangement,’ she could not help saying.

‘Teh! Tch! Jealous?’ he replied. ‘Is this all the luggage you have?’

‘Yes.’ It disturbed her not to know what he felt about Paige, and then, without warning, he glanced at her with that veiled ironic smile.

When they were in the car he said, ‘I can now begin to get down to a spot of relaxing. It’s been quite a show.’

What was surprising was that, while he drove in the direction of Mbabane, Tirza found herself relaxing with him. Her eyes strayed in the direction of the stone-hewn mountains, where those distant fires always seemed to be burning, wattles and waving bougainvillaea, mostly of the purple and mauve variety.

Loud and colourful, the town of Mbabane was more vibrant than she remembered it. The sound of music seemed to blast the pavements and the traffic was urgent and hasty.

Hugo did not seem inclined towards conversation and Tirza knew if she tried to make small talk she would lay herself open to more of his cutting remarks, so she, too, remained silent. However, she could tell without looking at him when he was looking at her.

Once they were through the border post she realised, with an absurd little thrill, that they were on the way. It could have been so exciting in different circumstances, she found herself thinking.

The sun was high and she longed for something to drink and was thankful when Hugo stopped at a kiosk on the roadside, where he bought fresh orange juice, which they drank there and then, sitting in the car, with the doors open to catch the breeze.

Later, they stopped for lunch and then headed for the entrance to the Game Park, where they were given the usual maps of the reserve and paper packets, with animals on them, into which all rubbish, in the form of fruit skins, sweet wrappers and so on, had to be discarded, for getting out of a vehicle was forbidden once they were in the reserve.

Suddenly Tirza felt herself beginning to tense up again. Why hadn’t Hugo torn the contract in two? Why was he subjecting her to the humiliation of carrying on with this trip—especially in the company of Cathy and Paige?

They reached the camp of Satara, which looked almost deserted, but this was only because the people accommodating the bungalows in the enclosed gardens were still out spotting game, for the gates did not close until sundown.

Hugo had reserved three bungalows—one for Cathy and Paige, one for Miss Tirza Theron and one for himself. Turning to her, after he had parked the car in the space next to one of the bungalows, he said, ‘You aren’t going to be nervous, are you, in a bungalow by yourself?’ Before she could reply he went on, ‘If you are—well, we can always share one together.’

Stung by his remark, the devil in her almost prompted her to say, ‘I’ll put that on record, Mr Harrington, because I might just be
very
nervous!’ She was quick to notice the Swazi Signature Kombi which was parked beneath the trees, next to one of the bungalows, which meant that the other two had arrived.

With mounting frustration she watched Hugo unload their cases. ‘I can manage my own, thank you,’ she told him. ‘One in each hand. It’s no problem.’ She lifted them and then turned to him again. ‘Which bungalow shall I take? It’s obvious that Cathy and Paige are in the first one. The Kombi has been parked next to it, as you can see.’

‘Take the middle one,’ he told her carelessly.

At that moment, Paige pushed open the screened-door to the small veranda of their bungalow. ‘Hi,’ she said, completely ignoring Tirza. ‘So you’ve arrived? We’re expecting you for sundowners, after you’ve got organised.’

‘Consider it a date,’ Hugo called.

After the heat outside, the bungalow was cool, and Tirza flopped down on one of the beds and closed her eyes. Behind her eyelids the bush still seemed to be moving and pictures of animals, as they had seen them on the drive to the camp, flitted about. After a while she opened her eyes and got up and washed her face at the wash-hand basin.

It was an attractive rest-hut, she thought, looking around. There was a shower cubicle and a screened veranda, with a small refrigerator and a table and chairs and a metal cabinet for groceries, should visitors prefer to cater for themselves rather than eat at the restaurant nearby.

Tomorrow, Tirza thought tensely, she and Paige would be modelling some of the glamorous caftans in the restaurant.

Examining herself in the mirror, she made a face. ‘Why is it you appear to be attracted to unusual and unscrupulous men?’ she said.

A vision of Paige came to her mind...proud, vain, ambitious—for anyone could see that Paige was madly ambitious. Working with her at the Royal Swazi Hotel, it had been obvious that this girl, daughter of the woman her father had nearly married, was obsessed if her hair was not just right, or if she thought she’d put on weight overnight. This preoccupation with her looks seemed to lead to nervous fatigue, and by the time they had finished modelling Paige had often been in a foul mood, snapping at Cathy or anybody who happened to be near her.

The sundowner invitation had not appeared to include her and, to show her independence, she decided to walk to the shop.

While she was in the building which was part-supermarket and part-curio shop and where she noticed there were attractive wall-hangings and mohair rugs, bearing the Swazi Signature Weaving Industry trade name, she got to listening to what people were talking about. The big topic appeared to be a waterhole, not far from the camp, where game could easily be spotted drinking just before sunset. ‘We even take our sundowners there,’ one woman giggled.

The words served to remind Tirza of Paige’s snub and, on the spur of the moment, she bought a can of beer, although she never drank beer. She would drink her own sundowner in her own bungalow, she thought. It was as simple as that.

The conversation went on around her and it was easy to determine where this waterhole was ... just past the gates, turn right and right again ...

Well, parking near a waterhole at sunset should be fun, Tirza thought, feeling suddenly very depressed,
and
in the right company. Obviously she was the odd one out here.

Moodily she walked back to the bungalow and, soon after her arrival there, Hugo knocked on her screened door and she turned as he opened it and stepped up on to the veranda. ‘Where have you been?’ he asked. ‘We were expecting you.’

‘You were?’ She immediately found herself on the defensive and her eyes fenced with his. ‘I wasn’t aware that I’d been invited. Don’t patronise me!’

‘Why didn’t you tell me that your real name is Harper?’ Looking at him, Tirza sensed the tightly-leashed anger beneath the surface of his control.

After a sickening pause she said, ‘Oh, so you’ve finally been told? Well, that had to come, I suppose. My real name is Tirza Theron Harper, so it wasn’t exactly a lie.’

‘I’m sorry, I don’t see the connection. So far as these matters go, your name is Tirza Harper. Right?’

‘You mean so far as contracts are concerned, of course!’

‘Yes, but that’s only one side of the story.’ Hugo’s blue eyes showed frank contempt.

‘Oh, is it
so
important?’ She shrugged and turned away from him.

‘Yes.’ She was aware, as he spoke, that he had closed the distance between them. ‘It’s important to me, anyway. I don’t like to be taken in, either by people or situations.’

She swung round and nearly collided with him. ‘You’ll realise, now, perhaps, that the contract I signed doesn’t happen to be valid, in view of the fact that I signed Tirza Theron.’

He cut harshly across the sentence. ‘Your name happens to be Tirza Theron Harper, right? So far as I’m concerned, the contract is valid, and you will abide by it, but perhaps you’d like me to take this matter further, to prove it? Your daddy,’ he drew the word out sarcastically, ‘happens to be Douglas Harper. Why weren’t you honest with me? Now I can see why your face looked familiar to me. It’s been pictured over and over again in countless magazines. And so here you are,
Miss Harper
,’ he folded his arms, ‘sleek with success in the capacity of buyer and chief scout for Harper’s. You’re more calculating than I thought. I need a drink,’ he added, on an angry breath.

With wide, troubled eyes Tirza watched him as he opened the door and then allowed it to slam behind him, as he went down the steps.

‘You don’t even give me a chance to explain,’ she called out.

‘You don’t have to explain,’ he called back. ‘It’s all been spelt out very clearly. There can be no greater boredom than that brought about by a pack of lies. I don’t want to hear any more. You’re a cheat, Miss Harper, and I just don’t happen to like cheats.’ He chilled her with his sarcasm, as he stood there at the foot of the steps looking up at her, as she held the door open.

Suddenly everything was unbearable to her. Here she was, without transport of her own, in the company of people who made no effort to conceal the fact that she was disliked. She felt bruised and bewildered and a little sick. Everything that she had told Cathy had been pounced upon and blown up out of all proportion. She knew a yearning to get away somewhere, by herself... the waterhole, for instance, where she could sit very quietly in a car and gaze at a pink sunset and animals venturing out to drink. From her window she caught sight of Hugo strolling in the direction of the curio shop. He was the type of man, she knew, who would become impatient with any kind of malicious gossip, even if there did happen to be truth at the back of it and it seemed obvious that he, too, wanted to be alone.

Once again she was experiencing the loneliness of being Douglas Harper’s daughter.

She glanced round for her bag and the scarf which she had tied about her hair in Hugo’s car, on the journey here. Apparently she had lost the scarf, and this was another prick to her tense nerves. She slipped the can of beer into the bag and decided that she would walk down to the security fence, find a comfortable place to sit and drink it. Maybe she would see animals on the other side of the fence. At this moment she would have liked nothing better than to go along to Cathy’s bungalow and give vent to the anger which was building up every second. However, in order to carry out the contract which she had signed, she knew that she would have to exercise self-control.

Cathy and Paige were sitting on the small screened veranda of their bungalow, and Tirza could hear them arguing.

Hugo’s Alfa-Romeo was coated with a fine layer of dust and the windows were rolled down. When she noticed her headscarf on the seat she opened the door on the passenger side and, in a fit of temper, retrieved the scarf. Hugo had left the keys in the car and her green eyes swung instantly in their direction. She looked at them solemnly for a moment, and then, acting recklessly, she slipped into the car and started the engine.

With little thought of the consequences she drove to the waterhole, and by the time she reached it, it was like arriving at a drive-in cinema. Cars were squeezed into the small sandy area and she was lucky to find a space to park.

The sun was already preparing to set and several small animals were leaving the safety of the bush to drink at the waterhole and turned to test the breeze before crossing the bare, game-trodden area between camouflage and water.

Suddenly the enormity of what she had done hit her. ‘God, what have I done?’ she whispered and put her knuckles against her teeth. ‘Taking his car, just like that!’

She stared at the little drama at the waterhole, but her thoughts were busy on how she would get out of this new situation. What would she say? There was no excuse for taking Hugo’s car. Suddenly a jackal, scattering a buck and some birds, attracted her attention and held it, and by the time that she had made up her mind to leave the waterhole and drive back to camp, it was too late, for she was completely hemmed in by vehicles.

How she would adore a long, leisurely shower, she thought, and something to drink to calm her screaming nerves. And then, remembering, she reached for her bag and took out the can of beer. Beer was better than nothing, she mused.