by Wynne May
‘Yes, you did mention that you’d spoken to him on the phone.’ He was smiling and his voice was mocking.
The storm did not appear to be lifting. There was a kind of tension in the lounge as the tables were being prepared for bingo.
‘Will you be driving back to your house in this storm?’ Michelle asked. ‘That is, if it doesn’t go away?’
‘No. Actually, I have a room and bath here. Sometimes when I get sick of my own company I come over here. It suits me very well.’ He grinned, easy with her again, and she saw that his mood had altered.
Laughing a little, she thawed out again. ‘Were you sick of your own company this evening - or were you afraid of the storm and needed company?’ She made her face innocent.
‘You work it out for yourself,’ he told her, ‘but it could be that I needed company. Look, let’s get out of here and leave them to their bingo. We’ll go and make ourselves comfortable in the Ladies’ Bar where we can talk in peace.’
The bar was small and dark, with small amber lights, and there was the smell of mixed drinks - like chopped fruit, sprinkled with brandy.
Apart from a girl and a man, four stools away, it was empty. There was a fire burning here, too, and the logs crackled and fell with a shower of red sparks. Beneath the storm-racked sky and within the circle of mountains the hotel could have been lonely and isolated. As it was, there was a warm atmosphere everywhere - the murmur of conversation, punctuated by laughter, soft music, piped everywhere, and the clinking of dishes, cutlery, glasses and bottles.
‘Have you been to see the Bushmen paintings yet?’ Lyle asked.
‘No. There hasn’t been all that much time. I hope to go soon, though.
I understand there’s a cave not far from the hotel and then more paintings at the end of a long hike.’
‘The paintings are being photographed this week, some time, for use in our new brochure,’ he told her.
‘They appear to photograph extremely well.’ Michelle broke off as the barman placed drinks on die counter before them and while he and Lyle joked about the weather conditions.
Turning to her again, Lyle said, ‘Yes, they do, as a matter of fact. It’s amazing how the browns and red and white and blacks show up.
These are the commonest colours, by the way. Green, blue, purple and pure yellow are practically never used. So I’m told, anyway.’
‘It’s amazing how they’ve lasted.’ She reached for her glass, but did not lift it to her lips. Instead, she .allowed her fingers to rest on the counter beside it. ‘They seem so permanent, from what I’ve read.’
‘Their permanence is phenomenal, actually. Practically no fading can be detected.’ In the dim lighting Lyle’s eyes met her own and she looked down at her glass.
There was a little silence, then she said, ‘I wonder why the Bushmen painted?’
‘Why does anyone paint?’ he asked. ‘To record events, I guess.
Happenings. To illustrate folk tales or maybe just to denote ownership of a cave.’
In this semi-darkness so close to Lyle Cunningham Michelle felt shy-eager to make conversation and yet at a loss, somehow. It seemed best to go on about the Bushmen painting, so she said, ‘Anyway, whatever the reason for painting, these small artists - for they were small people, weren’t they? - left behind them a kind of monument.’
Four stools away the girl and the man went on talking earnestly. For a moment Michelle regarded them thoughtfully, then, turning to Lyle again, she said, ‘One would wonder where these Stone Age artists got their colours from. There are some pictures in one of the magazine in the lounge, actually. I was looking at them yesterday and found myself wondering.’
A flash of lightning, which no amount of heavy curtaining could keep out, and a crash of thunder almost coincided. Her hand jumped wildly, just about knocking over her glass.
Laughing softly, Lyle moved the glass to one side. ‘Steady on, there!
What are you so nervous about?’ he asked.
‘It’s just that it was so bright - and so loud,’ she answered, in a frightened little voice. Looking across at the other girl, she felt better when she saw that the girl had her fingertips pressing to her temples.
Turning to Lyle Michelle said, ‘Doesn’t a storm like this ruffle you?’
‘I never get ruffled,’ he said, grinning, ‘either by storms or by people or situations,’ and then he said, ‘No, I guess that’s not true.
Sometimes, I get very ruffled by people and situations - especially when I’m jealous.’
‘You’re making that up, aren’t you?’ she laughed. Then, changing the subject quickly she said, ‘I keep thinking of my poor little Mini. I haven’t been able to get a garage. They’re all booked up.’
‘No matter how many garages we have there are never enough,’ he told her. ‘However, just to console you, Michelle, my own car is out in this deluge as well.’
‘Is it always like this in the Berg?’ she asked.
‘Not always, but often.’ He sounded amused, tracing her lips with those blue-green eyes of his. ‘When a storm comes along it usually likes to be the entire floor-show.’
‘It’s going to be awful if all storms are like this,’ she said in a worried voice.
‘I think you’d better resign yourself to the fact, Michelle.’ His voice was half amused, half tender.
‘Well,’ she shrugged, ‘it would appear so.’
‘Anyway,’ her senses jumped as he took her hand in his own, ‘it seems to be dying away.’
‘Yes, thank goodness.’ She regarded their hands on the counter.
Beside his tanned one her own looked very pale.
‘Have another drink,’ said Lyle.
‘I still have some left,’ she told him, her eyes going to her glass.
‘A fresh one.’ He signalled to the barman.
Later, he asked, ‘What else did you do in London, Michelle?’
‘How do you mean what else?’ she asked. ‘I was a hairstylist.’
‘I mean, apart from hairdressing?’
‘Oh..she broke off, not knowing what to say, ‘the usual things.’
The barman brought their drinks.
Lyle said, looking directly at Michelle, ‘It’s my intention to find out whether there was anyone in London. In other words - a man.’
‘Well,’ she allowed a little breath to escape, ‘it would be absurd to say no, wouldn’t it?’
‘I don’t know. Suppose you tell me.’ Even in this light, she thought, his eyes were blue-green and direct.
‘I have friends in London. What did you expect?’
‘That’s just what I expected, as a matter of fact. But anyone, in particular?’
‘There could have been, but there isn’t,’ she told him, thinking about Ray Thatcher.
‘How is that?’ Lyle’s voice was soft and curious.
‘There were reasons - a whole stack of them.’ Trying to sound casual she laughed lightly, ‘You have a lot to leant. Usually, if nothing comes of it - there are reasons. This is what happened to me. There was somebody, or rather, there could have been somebody - but there were reasons, and so …’ she shrugged and laughed again, ‘there isn’t, and that’s all there is to it.’ After a moment she said, ‘Would you mind telling me why you’re asking all this?’
She watched him begin to smile, then he said, ‘If we examine the facts, Michelle, we’ll discover that I happen to be interested and so,’ it was his turn to shrug now, ‘the rest must follow - the questions, the endeavour to trap you into saying something …’
‘I see.’ Her eyes flickered away from him and rested on the leaping fire, to one side of them. The flames were poinsettia-coloured, but changing to amethyst, indigo and rose. ‘There isn’t anyone in particular,’ she said.
‘Is it because, like most women, you’re fickle?’ His tone was mocking now.
‘I don’t think most woman are fickle at all,’ she laughed. ‘You just never give up, do you? I hate always having to b
e on the defensive with you.’ She blinked. ‘What were we talking about before? I seem to remember that we were madly occupied in discussing the Bushmen paintings, weren’t we?’
‘Right now,’ he said, ‘you happen to be my major preoccupation.’
At the far end of the bar the girl and the man slipped from their stools and went out, laughing and talking. The barman kept on polishing glasses.
‘Anyway,’ said Lyle, ‘you must see the paintings for yourself - before you go back to England.’
Falling into his trap, she said quickly, ‘I’m not going back.’
CHAPTER SIX
IN the morning there was snow in the deep gullies and mountain peaks and the intense heat of the past few days had, incredibly, given way to sharp, exhilarating conditions. On top of the mountains and on the slopes it would be freezing, even though the sun was shining.
Michelle was in the salon when Laney phoned. ‘Well,’ she said, ‘we just got out of Thabana in time yesterday afternoon. Have you heard the news on the radio?’
‘No,’ Michelle answered. ‘Hello there, Laney. What is the news? I had a quick glance at the morning paper. The papers had just arrived at the desk as I was passing through to open the salon.’
‘A violent storm hit Thabana just after we left yesterday and fifty millimetres of rain were measured. Temperatures dropped rapidly -
as you can feel for yourself. Actually, it’s a treat, after all that heat’
‘I was thinking about you, as a matter of fact, during last night’s storm,’ Michelle answered. ‘Did you suffer any damage?’
‘Nothing really. The road is a mess, though. Whatever you do don’t come and visit us until it dries up a bit. I adore this feeling of being cool for a change. You should see me, I’m wrapped in a great jersey with a high collar. I’m going to let everything slide in the house for today. This is a day for knitting. So I’ll say goodbye now, Michelle.
Be good!’
There had been several appointments in the book for hair-sets, but these appointments had been quickly cancelled owing to the fact that excited hotel guests were planning to walk out to the snow. Some of the nearer slopes were also covered, although not thickly.
Michelle was arranging sprays and shampoos on a shelf in the salon when her red telephone rang. It was Glen Hayes.
‘Hello,’ he said, ‘Glen Hayes speaking.’
‘Oh.’ She blinked twice. ‘Hello there.’
‘I want to ask you a favour.’
‘Oh?’ she said again. ‘Yes?’
‘Are you terribly busy?’
‘No, as a matter of fact. Everybody has gone out to see the snow on the mountains.’ She wondered what was coming.
‘Do you think you could leave the hotel?’
‘Well,’ she felt suddenly tense and uneasy, ‘I’d have to - er - make a plan, you know. I often help out at the desk, so I couldn’t just walk out, if you know what I mean. Why do you ask?’
‘Did you know that the Utah Film Company is here, making a film?’
he asked.
‘No. What kind of film?’ Her thoughts flew to Lyle Cunningham’s film-set house. How many films did they shoot here in the Berg? she found herself wondering.
‘It’s an advert for the van Luit Wine people.’ Glen Hayes spoke as if she should know who the van Luit Wine people and the Utah Film Company people were. ‘Oh, on a grand scale, of course.’
‘I see. Go on.’ Michelle knew that she was curious.
‘They are - the film people, I mean - staying here at the chalets. They want to shoot scenes in the snow - they were going to do it without snow, but,’ he laughed softly, ‘now that there’s snow laid on, so much the better. They’re planning an elaborate lunch to be served in the mountains and they’re looking for a beautiful girl. Immediately I thought of you.’
‘But,’ Michelle felt flustered, ‘there are masses of beautiful girls around, without having to turn to me.’
‘I said - immediately I thought of you. Would you consent?’
After a moment she said, ‘I haven’t heard of the van Luit Wine people, by the way. For that matter,’ she laughed lightly, ‘I haven’t heard of the Utah Film Company.’ She broke off, wondering whether she should be offended or flattered by Glen Hayes’ interest in her.
She heard his soft laughter. ‘Ask anyone - and by the way, it wouldn’t be for nothing. They will pay top model fees, so how about it?’
‘Will there be other girls?’ she asked, thinking about the money which would go into her savings account.
‘Yes. Three or four - but one other in particular, with the kind of honey-toned skin you’ve got except that she has bright red hair. We want you both to pose in the snow in bikinis.’ He laughed again and she could visualize him holding up a hand. ‘Now, this shouldn’t pose a problem, Michelle. After all, you’re used to the cold, where you come from. Right?’
Michelle found herself beginning to get angry. ‘Is this some kind of joke?’ she asked stiffly.
‘No joke, not in the least. I’m perfectly serious. It’s all above board, believe me. There’s to be a lunch set out on trestles in a glittering snow scene where champagne will flow like water. Should be a whole lot of fun, actually.’
‘It sounds crazy,’ she said. ‘Are you going?’
‘Yes, I am. Think about it. Find out whether you can make it and phone me right back. How’s that?’
‘Well, as you say, I’ll have to think about it, of course. All right, I’ll phone you later.’
‘In about half an hour. Okay?’
‘Yes.’
‘Someone will pick you up at the hotel.’
‘I could drive out, for that matter,’ she said, wondering whether her Mini would start after being out in the cold.
‘No need for that. You’d be collected at the door.’
‘I’ll let you know,’ she said. ‘Don’t bank on it, though.’
As she replaced the receiver she realized that the whole set-up posed a problem for her. While one part of her wanted to go for the experience the other part, very reasonably, pointed out that it was nothing short of a nerve to ask for time off to model for a film company.
Glancing at her watch, Michelle left the salon and went along to the desk where Liza was busy working. Liza looked up and, as usual, her dark eyes remained cool. ‘Did you want something?’ she asked.
‘Liza, what do you know about the Utah Film Company?’ Michelle kept her voice easy.
‘Why do you ask?’
‘I’m anxious to find out whether there is such a film company, as a matter of fact.’ Michelle forced a smile. It was so difficult to smile in Liza’s company, she thought with some resentment.
‘The Utah Film Company happens to be right here, at the moment,’
Liza replied. ‘Is this what Glen Hayes wanted to talk to you about? I put him through to you a moment ago.’
‘Yes. I happened to be shopping in Thabana the other day, with Laney, my sister-in-law, and Glen Hayes introduced himself. We had, of course, spoken on the phone here.’
‘What did he want now?’ Liza sounded impatient for a reply.
‘He wanted to know whether I could get time off to go out with these film people and pose for them in some kind of advertisement feature.
In a bikini, actually. That’s what set me thinking.’
‘Well, they’re doing this thing for the van Luit Wine people,’ Liza said. ‘I know all about it, actually. I was at a party at the chalets the night before last. They asked me to go along and watch, as a matter of fact. Are you going to pose for them?’
‘I don’t know. In the first place, although there’s nothing doing in the salon, because of the snow, I’d have to speak to Lyle’s father about going off.’
‘Lyle’s father. So it’s got down to Lyle now?’
‘Not to his face,’ Michelle tried to keep her temper. ‘But in any case, we’re not exactly living in the Victorian era.’
In a way, it had been
Liza’s sarcastic attitude that had influenced her to go to Cunningham Senior and speak to him about the matter.
‘Go right ahead,’ he told her. His eyes, so much like Lyle’s, held her own. ‘Who got in touch with you? The Utah crowd?’
‘No. It was Glen Hayes - from the chalets.’ All of a sudden she felt particularly edgy and felt her nails begin to dig into her palms.
‘I see. Well, the film people are staying there, of course, and that will be for you to sort out, Michelle, but in any case, so far as we’re concerned that will be quite in order. As you say, it will be an experience for you to see them at work.’
‘Yes,’ she replied. She had not told him about having to pose in a bikini.
However, when she was back in the salon she stood for several moments trying to decide whether she should go, then the phone rang, shattering her confused thoughts. Reaching for it, she said in a flat little voice, ‘Hello.’
‘I couldn’t wait for you, so I phoned instead. Well, what’s the verdict?’
Glen asked.
‘Well, I have permission to leave here,’ she told him dubiously.
‘Why do you sound so uncertain?’ She could sense his frown.
‘Well, I am. I’m confused, actually. I don’t know that I’d be doing the right thing. I mean, I haven’t posed in front of big cameras before.’
‘What makes you faintly - just faintly - interested in the first place?’
he asked.
After a moment, she said, ‘Well, the experience, mainly. After all, I’m new here, and when a chance like this crops up, I find myself tempted. I’d love to go up the mountains. They look beautiful with the snow on them.’
‘Well, you’ve just made up your mind. We’ll pick you up outside the foyer in …’ she heard him shifting about, ‘say, twenty minutes.’
‘Did you honestly mean it about a bikini?’ she asked quickly, before he rang off. ‘I’m not used to this kind of thing. I wouldn’t mind posing in slacks and a bright jersey. I’d certainly feel more relaxed and,’ she laughed a little, ‘it would certainly be a more appropriate way of dressing in this weather, wouldn’t it?’