An Image of You

by Liz Fielding

  She had the grace to smile. ‘Well, the natives got their own back today.’ She held on to her seat as the sweat broke out on her upper lip, wincing as they bounced out of a deep rut and she tasted bile in the back of her throat. ‘Could we please change the subject?’ She held on to her stomach, and Lukas pulled up.

  He reached behind him and produced a can of lemonade. ‘Here. This will help. Just sip it.’ She pulled the ring-pull and the drink erupted, cascading over him. He leapt back, swearing. ‘I don’t believe it!’ he yelled. ‘What kind of disaster are you?’

  She was beyond caring what he thought. She sipped the drink and as soon as the taste of the tea had gone she began to feel better.

  ‘I’m sorry about your shirt.’ She finally managed an apology.

  ‘So am I.’ He glared at her, then threw up his hands in resignation. ‘What is it about you that makes me react like a monster?’

  ‘My natural sunny disposition?’ she suggested. ‘My charm?’ She giggled. ‘My dress sense?’

  He shook his head. ‘There’s something … but never mind. Have you ever seen anything like that?’

  George turned to look out of the window. A huge red sun was disappearing behind the distant hills, and down in the river bed a group of giraffe were drinking at a pool.

  ‘No. It’s beautiful.’

  ‘Mmm. Perfect.’ He paused and considered her. ‘Now, if you were not George at this moment, but Georgette, I would not be wasting such a very special moment.’

  ‘Wasting? How could looking at all this be a waste?’

  Lukas slid an arm along the seat behind her and smiled indulgently. ‘You’d really like to know?’

  ‘I don’t think …’ Plainly it would be better not to pursue this line of thought, but he was not to be stopped.

  ‘First, I should have to remove this horrible thing. So.’ He plucked the hat from her head and threw it into the back of the jeep.

  ‘Lukas!’ she protested, backing hard against the jeep door.

  ‘Next,’ he smiled, ‘always supposing you were Georgette, of course, I should remove these hairpins one by one.’ His hands released her hair and it descended around her shoulders and glowed like fire in the light of the setting sun. He took a handful and, wrapping it around his fist, he drew her closer to him. ‘I might even take the time to wonder why any woman should want to hide such glory.’

  ‘Lukas! Stop this,’ she begged, her treacherous body glowing as he teased her remorselessly, her lips parting in unconscious response to him. He removed her spectacles and regarded her steadily.

  ‘And then …’ he continued as if she hadn’t spoken. He touched her cheek and ran his thumb down her jaw, lifting her chin, turning her mouth to his. ‘Then perhaps she would choose to distract me from all the odd little thoughts running through my brain.’ George made a small sound in the back of her throat as his mouth, warm and mobile, descended upon hers. Then, even before she could protest, it was over. He smiled lazily down at her.

  ‘But it’s all academic. Because Georgette is George. And wishes to be treated exactly like Michael. And Michael,’ he added with a mocking twist to his mouth, ‘Michael would have flattened me if I had dared to take such liberties.’

  ‘I doubt,’ George said, as steadily as she could, ‘I very much doubt that Michael wears hairpins.’

  He grinned quite suddenly. ‘You have a point there.’

  He finally released her and leaned forward to start the engine. ‘It is time to be getting back. They will be worrying about us.’

  And with good reason, George thought, as she tried to control her wildly racing pulse. The man was loaded with a dangerous charm when he chose to exercise it, and she had gone more than halfway to meeting him. It simply wasn’t fair that she found him so totally desirable, when she was almost certain that she didn’t even like him. Crossly she scooped her hair up and searched for the pins that Lukas had dropped. But the floor of the jeep was dark and in the end she gave up and let her hair fall. Instead she took particular pleasure in retrieving her hat and jamming it firmly back on her head.

  Lukas had put on the headlights and she realised quite suddenly how dark it had become. She gripped her seat nervously.

  ‘Why did you come here to take your calendar shots?’ she asked. Anything to distract her mind from the thought of the dark out there. ‘Surely you could have chosen somewhere a lot safer.’

  ‘Safer?’ Lukas shrugged. ‘I suppose so. But it’s got to be a sort of silly tradition. MotorParts gets to the places other spares cannot reach. That sort of thing.’ He glanced across at her. ‘If you think this is tough you should have been in Finland.’

  ‘Finland?’ What was so awful about Finland? It was daylight nearly all the time there. Then she realised. ‘You mean the girls …? In the snow?’

  ‘A few strategic furs, but basically, yes.’ She saw the whiteness of his teeth in the darkness. ‘It was tough on the girls. The goose-bumps were a real menace. I practically wore out my soft-focus filter.’

  She bridled at the unspoken criticism. ‘I suppose you think me very soft. I’m not normally inclined to fainting and sickness, Lukas, it’s just been a rather long and trying day.’

  ‘You’re not soft, George. A lot of things, but not that. But every day here is going to be long and trying. Do you really want to stay?’ He allowed the faintest hope to colour his voice.

  ‘Umm?’ George smothered a yawn. ‘Oh, yes. I have to stay. I have no choice.’

  Chapter Five

  ‘Why?’

  There was a deceptive lightness about the question that put George immediately on her guard. She was letting her concentration slip. ‘Why?’ she queried, forcing another yawn in order to give herself time to think.

  ‘Why do you have no choice?’ Lukas’s voice was even, but there was a dangerous edge to it.

  ‘Oh! I see what you’re getting at,’ she said, with a soft laugh. ‘It’s Pa. He wants me to learn as much as I can working with you.’ She concentrated on a look of earnest puzzlement. ‘He thinks you’re a very good photographer.’

  ‘But you don’t agree?’ Amusement had reasserted itself, and there was an ironic twist to his mouth.

  ‘Oh, no!’ She frowned slightly. ‘No, that’s wrong. What I mean is, yes. I do agree with him.’ She looked at him gravely, her eyes wide with admiration. ‘I think you’re wonderful.’

  ‘You’d do wonders for my ego, George, if it weren’t for the fact that there’s a great big “but” in there somewhere.’ His eyes gleamed in the gathering darkness, as he turned a thoughtful smile on her.

  ‘Well, of course I’d much rather be taking a different kind of picture. Does my father actually know that his calendar is going to have all these girls on them?’

  ‘I imagine it highly likely. We’ve been producing them for the last six years.’ Lukas was clearly exasperated. ‘You do realise that they are collectors’ items, don’t you? There is the most tremendous fuss every year to try and produce something original. Beautiful. That to receive one is considered a sign that you have arrived in the motor trade? These aren’t the sort of thing you see on the walls of garage workshops, you know.’

  George ignored this. ‘I’m sure I could find a much more worthwhile theme,’ she went on thoughtfully. ‘Perhaps it’s time to go “green”. What do you think of Endangered Species of the British Isles?’

  His straight black brows rose slightly. ‘If you can get your father to agree I will naturally do my best. But,’ he warned, ‘I’ll insist that you come along as well.’

  ‘As your assistant?’ George asked, with what she hoped sounded like rapture.

  ‘No. I’ll need you to nag the natterjack toads into behaving for the camera,’ he snapped.

  George spent the remainder of the journey in a warm little glow of satisfaction. But it only lasted until the lights of the camp appeared and Lukas drew up, pulling savagely on the handbrake. He opened his door, jumped down and walked away, leaving George to m
anage by herself.

  She sat very still in the jeep. It was safe there. The engine was making familiar, comforting ticking noises as it cooled. Not like the dark space between it and the lighted mess tent. But she had to make a move. The alternatives were shouting for help, and staying there all night, both equally unappealing. With a great effort of will she opened the door and gingerly climbed down. Nothing happened. No monster grabbed her. The only monster, she reminded herself, was in her own mind. She allowed her nerves to relax an inch or two. Then something rustled in the darkness at her feet and she took to her heels and ran.

  She pulled up sharply as she reached the light, feeling foolish before the raised eyebrows of the group gathered there under the hissing of the portable gaslight.

  ‘A drink, George?’ Lukas asked, the smallest smile betraying his amusement. ‘Something to steady your nerves?’

  ‘A gin and tonic. Please.’

  He poured her drink and placed it in her hand, pressing his fingers around hers, holding them firmly, teasing laughter creasing his eyes. When he was sure the glass was safe he turned to Walter. ‘Did you bring the papers back from Nairobi?’

  ‘Yes. But I left them in the jeep. And your laundry. We’ve only just got back. I’ll fetch them.’ He began to heave himself out of his chair.

  ‘No, don’t get up. George will be glad to fetch them for you. Won’t you, George?’ He rescued the glass as her fingers twitched.

  Walter subsided with relief. ‘That’s right. Wear the young ones out first.’

  George felt her mouth go dry as she looked into the blackness. It was so thick out there that she felt she would disappear into it if she left the friendly light of the tent, and never be seen again.

  ‘I can’t …’ She cleared her throat and tried again. ‘I can’t actually see the jeep. Where did you leave it?’

  ‘Over there.’ Walter indicated vaguely. ‘Here, take my torch.’

  ‘There. You’ll be quite safe now.’ Lukas raised his glass in a little salute. ‘Off you go.’

  She switched on the torch and a powerful beam leapt out into the darkness, picking out the Land Rover parked beneath a slender palm. Her heart was pounding high in her throat as she ran to the vehicle, and her fingers trembled on the door-handle as she wrenched it open. There was a parcel on the back seat, and a thick pile of newspapers. She climbed in to reach them.

  The torchlight wavered as George glanced back at the tent. No one was watching her and Lukas was deep in conversation with Walter. She returned to the papers and, holding her breath, she flipped through them. Near the bottom she found the one she had hoped wouldn’t be there. The one with her plastered over the front page. She pulled it out and glanced around for a hiding place. If she stuffed it behind the seat she could retrieve it in the morning. She put down the torch in order to roll the paper up and dispose of it. Satisfied that it was hidden from the casual observer, she reached out for the torch.

  ‘Georgette Bainbridge! Where the hell are you? I want to get out of this wet shirt!’ George jumped and swivelled guiltily on the seat, knocking the torch to the floor where it landed with a dull thud. Darkness descended, folding her suffocatingly in black cotton wool.

  ‘Oh, God …’ she whimpered. ‘Please …’ But God was busy elsewhere. Slowly she reached down, her flesh crawling with what she knew was an irrational fear. Gritting her teeth to stop herself from crying out, she began to feel about on the floor. Her hand knocked against the torch and with a little cry of relief she made a grab for it. Instead of the torch, her hand grasped something soft. George opened her mouth and screamed.

  The door beside her jerked wide open. ‘What on earth …?’

  Lukas was staring at her in astonishment. For a moment she was frozen, unable to move, then with a shuddering sob she threw herself out of the jeep and into his arms. ‘There’s something there,’ she cried. ‘I touched it.’ She clung to him, burying her head in his shoulder, frantic for the safety he represented. She could feel the steady beating of his heart as he held her close against his broad chest, and gradually sanity began to return and with it some recognition of where she was. She tried to pull away but her rescuer was now her captor.

  ‘Well, Georgette …’ Lukas said softly.

  ‘No …!’ She looked up to see a mocking little smile playing about his mouth.

  ‘Oh, yes, my dear. You should have found out a little bit about Michael before you insisted upon being treated like him.’ He looked over her head into the jeep. ‘You see, as well as being an excellent photographer, Michael is an entomologist. That’s why he came with me on this shoot. If he had encountered something strange in the dark I can assure you he wouldn’t have screamed. He would have popped it into one of the little bottles he carried about his person.’ He gripped her shoulders. ‘Although frankly, I believe that this specimen might have defeated even him. Now, Georgette, I think it would be best if you confronted the beast that reduced you to this—er—state.’

  ‘No!’

  Firmly, oblivious to her efforts to resist, he propelled her around to face her fear. George averted her face and kept her eyes tight shut.

  ‘Look at it,’ Lukas commanded. ‘It won’t hurt you. Trust me.’

  ‘I … can’t.’

  ‘Trust me,’ he repeated, and slowly George did as she was told. For a moment what she was seeing didn’t register and she drew her well-defined brows into a puzzled frown.

  ‘My hat?’ Involuntarily she lifted her hand to her head. It must have fallen off when Lukas had startled her.

  ‘Your hat, Georgette.’ There was no mistaking the relish in his voice. ‘Perhaps you will believe me now when I tell you that it is a fright. In fact, a nightmare of a hat.’ He grinned. ‘And, if it’s not too much trouble, I should like my laundry now.’

  ‘Your laundry?’ She picked up the package from the seat. ‘This laundry?’

  ‘That’s right. You can bring it to my—correction, our tent.’ He turned on his heel and walked away. George hefted the parcel to shoulder height and hurled it after him. It missed him by inches. He laughed softly.

  ‘Ohhh!’

  Furiously she grabbed the torch, hat and newspapers. There was a sudden roar of noise. George just managed to hold on to the torch as she jumped again. Light flickered across the compound as a generator caught uncertainly and then brightened as it settled to a steady rhythm. She stood still until her heart had returned to something nearer its normal pace, but with the banishment of the dark her spirits suddenly lifted.

  ‘Stupid girl,’ she admonished herself as she retrieved the parcel of laundry and hurried across to the tent where Lukas was waiting.

  ‘All right?’ he enquired.

  ‘Never better,’ she affirmed stoutly.

  ‘So you’ll be staying?’ He retrieved the parcel from her arms and threw it on to his bed.

  ‘Don’t worry, Lukas. I won’t leave you to manage by yourself,’ she reassured him soothingly. ‘And you must think of your reputation. To lose one assistant might be considered a misfortune. To lose two must surely be thought carelessness.’

  He took a step towards her, and she backed hastily. Lukas smiled, fully aware of the effect he was having on her. ‘You’d better have these back, then, hadn’t you?’ He produced her glasses from his pocket and opened them as a preliminary to placing them on her nose. She plucked them from his hand and pushed them firmly into her own pocket.

  He grinned. ‘Spoil-sport. And if it had been a big hairy spider in the Land Rover?’

  George crossed her fingers. ‘I’m not afraid of spiders,’ she lied desperately. She wasn’t handing him a weapon like that to use against her. ‘It was just the dark.’

  ‘The dark?’ He seemed genuinely surprised. ‘You’re afraid of the dark? I thought it was creepy crawlies that were putting the wind up you.’

  ‘I know it’s silly.’

  ‘Yes. Very silly. The dark is beautiful, George. Come on, I’ll show you.’ He caught her hand.<
br />
  ‘No. You want to change …’

  ‘Later. Come on.’ He led her to the tent entrance and paused there, looking down at her. ‘I’ll keep you quite safe. I promise.’

  She looked up into his eyes and saw with surprise that he was no longer teasing her, and she allowed him to lead her outside, away from the camp site and into the complete darkness of the bush. There were small noises about them, rustlings from unseen creatures that made her skin prickle. He seemed to sense her unease.

  ‘Stand still.’

  ‘No. Lukas, I can’t. Take me back,’ she whimpered.

  ‘Keep still,’ he insisted. ‘Open your eyes.’

  She hadn’t realised that they were closed, screwed up tight against unnameable fears. ‘Oh!’ He chuckled at her surprise. ‘It’s not really dark at all.’

  ‘No. Of course it isn’t. The starlight here is bright enough to see by.’ Away from all man-made lights the heavens were thick with stars. ‘There.’ He pointed. ‘Do you see the Southern Cross?’

  ‘The lop-sided one?’

  ‘Well, I’ve heard it described with more enthusiasm, but yes.’

  ‘Thank you for showing me.’

  ‘My pleasure. But I think that’s enough for tonight. If you don’t put something on your legs, you’ll be eaten alive by the mosquitoes.’

  He led her back to the camp and held open the tent flap for her. She sank on to the camp bed, and a yawn, this time quite genuine, caught her by surprise.

  * * *

  ‘Memsahib! Memsahib!’ An urgent voice woke her. ‘Chai, memsahib, for bwana.’

  George forced heavy lids to open and saw the figure leaning over her. She sat up in a panic and then subsided as she remembered where she was.

  ‘Jambo, memsahib. Chai.’

  Seeing that she was awake, the steward placed the tray on the table and departed.

  ‘Thank you,’ she called belatedly, as she swung her feet to the ground and searched for her sandals. She looked at her watch, but it was too dark to read the time.