'Not to worry. I'm on my way.'
When the bathroom door closed behind Eve, Gillian wandered into the lounge, loth to don restricting clothes until the last minute. It was a beautiful apartment, rich and sumptuous, furnished with excellent taste. She stood with head turned upwards to admire the crystal chandeliers, her golden hair emblazoned by their glitter, when Dirk strode into the room,
'My darn pipe, I left it on the patio.' Then he froze in his stride. His eyes, black as mountain pools, raked her. She stood electrified, fearful, warm and blushing like a young bride, intensely aware of the transparency of her lace negligee.
With a swift stride he reached her and swept her into his arms. Her body seemed to turn to water, and deep down an exquisite trembling possessed her.
'My little love!' he whispered fiercely, pressing burning kisses on her eyes, the corners of her mouth and the hollow under her throat. 'Darling! Darling! Darling!'
Gillian heard the warning bells clanging in her brain, but all volition was swept away. She knew only ecstasy as her arms clung round his neck and his lips closed upon hers. Then, as from afar, she heard him suddenly suck in his breath. His lips now rested quietly on the smooth hair above her forehead.
His arms held her gently, until all passion had seeped away and calm had returned to her mind and body. At last she stood away from him, in complete control of herself, the rosy flush drained from her face. Dirk lifted her chin with a slender index finger and, smiling into her eyes, dropped a light kiss on her forehead as Eve entered the room. Dirk, aware of Eve's presence, repeated the performance coolly, and said with eyes and voice full of mockery: 'Do you mind, Eve? I came to retrieve my pipe, but this adorable, kissable child waylaid me.' He made Gillian a sweeping bow. 'If you'll excuse me now, mademoiselle?' he said in a silky voice, and strode to the patio.
Eve gave Gillian an inscrutable look and went into her room.
Gillian fled to the guest room. She heard his steps return, and his debonair voice call out : ' 'Bye now!'
And Eve's laconic reply:' 'Bye!'
CHAPTER FIVE
The lounge of the Swazi Spa Hotel was crowded as Gillian and Graham descended the wide steps separating the upper from the lower floor. Heads turned towards them in admiration. They made a handsome couple - the tall blond Scandinavian-looking man, in a smart tailored black dress suit, snow-white frilled shirt and black tie and, on his arm, the graceful young woman in an enchanting white gown, richly embroidered with pearls.
A Swazi waiter in smart uniform bounded forward to lead them to the only unoccupied table with a 'Reserved' placard. The moment they were seated, the bar steward jumped to attendance, but Graham indicated that they would postpone their order until the arrival of the rest of the party.
Graham offered her a cigarette from his silver case and, as he lit it, their eyes met. 'You look ravishing, my little Ginny,' he whispered over the din of talk and laughter.
She blew a little puff of smoke into the air and smiled at him. 'You're the only person I know who calls me Ginny.'
'It slipped out. It was your mother's name.'
His eyes searched her face questioningly. 'There's something different about you tonight.'
'Is there? What?' Her voice was warm and soft.
'I can't quite make it out.' There was a puzzled little frown between his fair brows.
'Maybe my hair?'
'No, no, nothing to do with your hair nor outward appearance.'
'What, then? Tell me. I'm curious.'
'Something emanating from within - a smouldering fire is the closest I can get to it.'
'I suppose I'm burning with excitement. This is my very first public dance, you know.'
'I thought of that, but there's something else.'
'Tell me.'
'You look somehow triumphant and it's almost as if you've suddenly changed from a child to a woman.'
'If only you knew,' Gillian thought, as Graham suddenly broke off to say, 'There they are!' He rose in his chair and signalled to Dirk and Eve, who were coming down the steps. Gillian's heart seemed to jump to her throat.
The dark-haired couple looked very elegant as they wound their way among the crowded tables towards Graham. Gillian could not deny that in looks and bearing they were well matched. Eve was resplendent in a red clinging summer-weight woollen gown with diamond-studded halter neck - a gown which revealed the sinuous movement and perfection of her body. Her sleek black hair was drawn into a smooth coiled chignon on top of the head, accentuating the beautiful patrician features. Thick black false lashes weighed down the eyelids with a distinctly seductive effect. Dirk's gift of ridiculously long diamante earrings hung from her shapely ears. She looked chic but at the same time voluptuous and desirable.
The masculine elegance of her partner, in immaculate dress suit with its silk lapels, gleaming hand-embroidered shirt and black butterfly tie, had its only too familiar effect on Gillian.
They reached the table and Gillian was completely taken aback at the stony look with which Dirk greeted her. She had the presence of mind to send him an equally cold look in return, but was thrown into a state of utter confusion. True, she had not expected - had not wanted his eyes to betray those recent ecstatic moments of revelation. A glance of warm friendliness was all she wished for. But why this look of ice? Was he back at his old game of arousing her, only to repulse her? She would not stand for it! Coquettishly, she slid a delicate hand under Graham's fingers resting on the white tablecloth, and gave him her most appealing look. 'May I have another cigarette, please?'
Graham brought her fingers gallantly to his lips and felt them quiver. 'Oui, mademoiselle.'
'Merci!'
She clasped her hands tightly together on her lap, while he placed the lit cigarette between her lips. She was aware that Dirk's mocking eyes were watching her. To smoke, one needed a hand, and hers would betray her. For a moment the cigarette stayed between her lips. Then, mercifully, Graham removed it, stubbed it out, and asked her to dance.
He led her to the ballroom, where, under soft lights, , gay couples were swaying to the romantic music of a Strauss waltz.
She immediately regained her equilibrium as his supporting arm swept her round and round to the rhythm of the music. They danced in silence and perfect harmony and, to her surprise, Gillian found herself enjoying the dance.
As they swung past the ballroom entrance, Gillian saw Dirk approach with his arm round Eve's waist. She refused to meet his gaze. He led Eve on to the floor and followed closely in Graham's wake, but until the last step Gillian kept her eyes lowered. The music ended, the couples dispersed and Gillian looked up into Graham's clear blue eyes. 'May we talk somewhere, please, Graham?'
He led her out on to the wide patio and they sat under the stars, in cushioned garden chairs by the side of the swimming pool. In the shelter of indigenous trees glimmered masses of blue hydrangeas.
After a moment's silence Graham took her hand gently in his. 'What is it, Gillian?'
'It's difficult for me to say it.'
'You can trust me.'
Gillian swallowed hard. 'It's Dirk. I think I've fallen in love with him.'
'You think?'
'No, no, I know it. I love him terribly, Graham, and tonight at Eve's, he came back for his pipe. Eve was in the bath and... and....'
'Yes?'
'He kissed me - kissed me in such a way that I couldn't doubt that he loved me too. But just now, when he came to our table, he repulsed me with such a stony look that I must have been wrong. He doesn't love me. He loves Eve.' Gillian's voice quivered. 'And ... and... I'm miserable!'
If Graham had said, 'Poor little Gillian!' she would have burst into tears. But he didn't. He just sat there looking at the pool water until Gillian gained control over her voice and could continue: 'I wouldn't have told you this, but I need your help tonight. I must show him I don't care. I want to give all my attention to you, to ... to ... play up to you - not to make him jealous, you see, but to show h
im I'm indifferent. I suppose it's ... to save my pride.'
'But you could have charmed me without telling me your secret.'
'No, that wouldn't have been honest.'
'You mean .. .?'
'You might misconstrue my motive, think that I love you. ...'
'And you don't?'
'Not in that way.'
'In what way, then? Like a brother?'
'That's about it.'
'You don't think your love for him will pass?'
'That it's calf love? No, Graham. I can never love anyone else.'
There was a long silence, then Graham spoke, his voice husky with emotion: 'You've been honest with me, Gillian, so I shall be honest with you. I love you, my dear.'
'No, Graham, no!' Gillian cried unhappily.
'Yes, Gillian, yes! I've loved you from the moment I set eyes on you. But I knew somehow from the beginning that it was hopeless. It wouldn't have worked out in any case — not with you being so much richer than I am. That sort of marriage doesn't succeed.'
'I'm sorry,' Gillian whispered.
'Don't be, my dear. You're not to blame, and your honesty tonight has been the kindest thing.' Graham lit a cigarette. 'There's something else I must tell you.' He blew a neat smoke ring. 'You must have wondered why I'm still single?'
'It's true - I have wondered.'
'When your father brought me, a destitute orphan, ,to his farm, I was eighteen. Your mother was twenty-four. We fell in love. She was prepared to seek a divorce - wanted us to marry. But I couldn't. I hero-worshipped your father. She pleaded with me - in vain. Bite the hand that fed me? That would be dastardly. Just loving Ginny was different. Who can take blame for loving? Her affair with me was her very first. When I refused to break up my benefactor's home, she changed. It was as if she no longer cared what happened to her. She had many light affairs after that, but until your family moved away she loved me only. When at last, in England, she did break away from your father, it was to force my hand. Who can judge right or wrong? I only knew that I couldn't marry your father's wife. We never saw each other again.'
'I... I don't know what to say.'
'Sometimes I wonder whether my love for you isn't a sublimation of my love for her. Who knows? You look so alike. Yet I love you dearly.' He cupped her chin in his hand and brought her face round and very close to his, earnestly scanning her features in the starlight, as though searching for his lost love.
'Am I interrupting something?' Dirk's ironic voice cut the silence like cold steel.
'Not at all,' replied Graham calmly, withdrawing his hand. 'Join us. Where's Eve?'
'Eve's peeved at the absence of her guests and sent me to look for you.' His words were a rebuke.
Graham rose languidly and gave Gillian a hand up. 'Let's go, then,' he said lightly.
Gillian walked between her two escorts in complete silence.
Eve was drumming her scarlet talons impatiently on the table as they reached her.
'My apologies.' Graham bowed gallantly before her.
'Mine too.' Gillian's voice was contrite. 'We had something of importance to discuss.'
Eve forced a polite smile. 'Anything you'd care to share?'
'Well,' Gillian hedged, 'for one thing, Graham has been filling in some of the gaps in my family history.' She seated herself on the chair Dirk held for her and purposely neglected to acknowledge his gesture.
'You've missed your first drink. Dirk darling,' Eve murmured, 'would you mind ordering for us?'
Dirk signalled to a bar steward and in no time their drinks appeared. Dirk did the offices and, standing, proposed a toast 'To the most beautiful woman in Swaziland - Eve de la Harpe. May your dreams be fulfilled.'
Eve gave him a long look, which was not hard to interpret. Her dream is to win Dirk for herself, Gillian thought in a moment of despair. She and Graham rose too and clinked glasses.
'To Eve.'
'To Eve.'
Eve bent her head in acknowledgement and from then on the party spirit gripped them all and time flowed pleasantly. Dirk continued dancing with Eve and Graham consistently partnered Gillian. There were more drinks, conversation sparkled, and on the surface everyone seemed gay and relaxed. Gillian went to dinner on Graham's arm and Eve clung to Dirk's. The candlelight, table appointments and decor fitted the scene. There was a bucket of champagne in ice on their table and a centre bowl of mauve-tinted orchids, which Eve admired volubly. Dirk drew a card from under the bowl and handed it to her. Eve read the message and squealed with delight. 'Dirk, you absolute darling! Why must you spoil me so?' She leaned over the, table to kiss him where he sat opposite her.
The dinner and wine were excellent and the service was prompt. For the first time in her life Gillian ate escargots. She shuddered inwardly at the idea of biting into a snail, but after the first one took to the taste.
The hilarious gaiety surrounding them was contagious and, fired by the champagne, they laughed and joked and it seemed as if each member of the foursome was determined to extract every ounce of pleasure from the evening's entertainment.
'Time enough for tears when I get home,' Gillian thought stoically. Later, they retired to the lounge for coffee and liqueurs and when the band in the ballroom struck up once more, Graham was quick to claim Gillian while Eve stretched a languorous arm towards Dirk.
When that dance came to an end, Graham warned Gillian that the next would be his duty dance with his hostess. Jokingly, he indicated the ladies' retiring room. 'If you want to escape Dirk, retire there under the pretence that your make-up needs repair,' he teased. Then he looked at her quizzically. 'Or do you yearn to dance with him?'
'No, I don't!'
When Eve and Graham left the table to dance, and Gillian found herself alone with Dirk, her pulse quickened. She was in a quandary. She could not bear to dance with him, and yet she could not rudely refuse him. On the other hand, it was agony to sit with him, alone, without the protection of their friends' company. She wished she could just fall through the floor and disappear. He sat with his face turned away from her, ostensibly listening to the music. They had nothing to say to each other. The tension was unbearable.
Then she became aware that someone was trying to catch her attention at a table slightly removed, and recognized the French hairdresser. She smiled at him, and he immediately rose and came towards her. 'Good evening, Mademoiselle McBride,' he said with a graceful bow.
Gillian introduced him to Dirk as Monsieur Franc.
'Monsieur will excuse me, but I have a message for Mademoiselle.' Gillian looked up in surprise. 'My mother thanks the kind mademoiselle for the beautiful shoulder spray of roses. She wears it to the concert tonight.'
Dirk glared reproachfully at Gillian, whose heart was almost bursting with misery, but her voice was cool as she said: 'Tell Madame, your mother, that as I had no use for it, I am glad it brought her some pleasure.'
Monsieur Franc looked at the handsome, glowering man beside her with a comical expression of doubt. 'Monsieur does not wish to dance? Monsieur will permit me to dance with the beautiful young mademoiselle?'
Dirk's gaunt face was inscrutable as he signalled permission with a careless lift of a lean hand. With her heart seeming torn to shreds, but with a cold, calm exterior, Gillian escaped Dirk's overwhelming, moody presence. She was glad to get away from him - glad, glad! And yet....
The band was playing the new mod dance that she and her friends had practised in the convent recreation hall to the tinny accompaniment of a derelict record player. Suddenly she looked up into the brooding eyes of Dirk. He was leaning elegantly against the side of the entrance, smoking and watching her. With sheer willpower she forced the listlessness from her body, threw herself into the dance with abandonment, practising every bit of charm and coquetry she could muster upon the Frenchman. She would show Dirk how little she cared! 'Little flirt,' he had called her that day in the barn. All right then, she'd be a little flirt!
He no longer stood at the entran
ce. Where was he? Her eyes travelled all round the ballroom. He was now talking to the conducting bandmaster, who had his head turned over his shoulder towards Dirk, though swinging the baton at his musicians all the while. He nodded ^and brought the music to a sudden stop. Dirk came striding down through the waiting couples towards her. He bowed slightly before her glowing partner. 'Thank you, Monsieur Franc,' he said, laying a firm hand on Gillian's delicate wrist.
'I must thank you, monsieur. For me it was a great pleasure?' Monsieur Franc returned the bow and rejoined his party.
Gillian did not know what to do - she felt trapped. She was the last person to wish to create a scene. The band struck up with a tango, the one dance the instructor whom Daddy had insisted on had taught her to perform best. There was nothing for it - she would have to dance.
With the opening notes, Dirk whirled her into the curve of his supporting arm, and set off with long, gliding steps. Gillian melted into his every movement. They glided, hesitated with legs poised in the air, they bent backwards and forwards to the accompaniment of the throbbing music with such grace and harmony of movement that one by one the other dancing couples fell out to watch them, until only Dirk and Gillian remained on the floor. Even the bandleader had turned right round to watch them, and waved his baton sideways and back to guide his band, who were gradually working the music into a frenzy.
Gillian was oblivious to everything save the mastery of her partner's body as he guided and controlled her through the intricate steps. Her love for him for a moment swept away all feelings of hate, humiliation, resentment and revenge.
The music and dance came to a climactic end with Gillian lying passive and surrendered across Dirk's knee. Then a storm of applause broke from the cosmopolitan revellers. 'Ole! Ole!' they shouted as Dirk led Gillian from the floor. She sighted Eve's face in the crowd for the first time. There was no mistaking the hate glittering in her eyes. She came sailing down upon them. 'That was splendid, my darling!' she cried for everyone to hear as she grasped Dirk's arm possessively and swept him along. Gillian fell back and walked out with Graham, who steered her through the dispersing dancers, his hand resting lightly and understandingly on her waist. 'I don't want to go back to our table just now, please, Graham.'
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