Ufezela the scorpion had reared its tail to deliver its deadly sting, and Olivia felt a shiver of apprehension and fear make its way along her spine. The situation was suddenly dangerous, leaving her no safe alternative to grasp at.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said at last, sealing her own fate. ‘I—I didn’t mean to sound so inhospitable. You—you’re welcome to come up and have coffee with me.’
Bernard accepted this with a brief nod and followed her from the shop in silence, but Olivia felt as though every nerve in her body was screaming for release. After accepting his hospitality, and that of his sister, how could she refuse him, but there was Ilona to reckon with, and the dreadful accusations she had made only that morning. Heaven knew she had no desire to entertain him in her flat, but would Ilona see it as such?
Her hands were unsteady as she unlocked the door to her flat and led the way inside. Her small lounge seemed to shrink somehow in size the moment he entered it, and Olivia gestured nervously that he should sit down.
‘Don’t you find it rather small?’ he asked, almost reading her thoughts as he lowered himself into the nearest easy chair and glanced about him with obvious interest.
Olivia was instantly on the defensive. ‘It’s quite big enough for me, considering I have to do all the chores myself.’
‘I wasn’t criticising.’
His glance clashed with hers and she was overwhelmed by a sudden fierce guilt. ‘I’m sorry, I thought for a moment—’ She caught her lip between her teeth and turned away. ‘I’ll go and put the kettle on. ’
The simple task of making coffee restored her composure to a certain extent, but with every fibre of her being she was conscious of Bernard’s disturbing presence in the adjoining room, and nature had participated in the fact that Bernard King would not be the kind of man one could overlook with ease. He was far too forceful; too dominant, and much too large not to stand out even in a crowd. Ufezela the scorpion; deceptively placid when not disturbed, but deadly when roused. Olivia shivered at the thought and carried the tray of coffee through to the lounge where he sat waiting, relaxed and uncaring with his long, muscular legs
stretched out before him.
‘I meant to ask,’ he said after a while. ‘Did you enjoy your first taste of flying yesterday?’
‘Very much,’ Olivia replied with polite coolness, unable to prevent herself from adding, ‘Despite the fact that my being a novice at it apparently amused yon so much. ’
‘What the devil are you talking about?’ His cup went down into the saucer with a clatter that made her jump. ‘You were nervous, and that was understandable, but I never found it amusing.’
Olivia stared at him in confused .silence. Was it possible that Ilona could have lied, or was Bernard’s almost aggressive attitude a cover-up for a guilty conscience?
‘I supposed you preferred carrying passengers who’ve had some flying experience,’ she said nervously, trying to give a reasonable explanation for her remark without involving Ilona,
‘I don’t particularly care who flies with me, just as long as they don’t go crazy and grab at the controls,’ he contradicted sternly, and for some reason she could not explain, she was convinced that he was speaking the truth. How much, then, could she believe of what Ilona had said? ‘You make a good cup of coffee, Olivia,’ Bernard interrupted her confused thoughts.
‘Thank you,’ she murmured, avoiding his eyes. If only he would go, she kept thinking, still smarting inwardly from Ilona’s unfair accusations early that morning.
‘You seem agitated about something.’
Olivia’s lashes flew upwards in startled surprise, a denial tripping almost frantically from her lips. ‘I’m not agitated about anything.’
‘Then you’re afraid of something,’ he insisted, his expression hardening, his eyes searching.
‘Don’t be silly!’
He was beside her suddenly on the sofa, removing the cup from her nerveless fingers and taking her hands in his before she could so much as utter a protest. ‘Your hands are cold and shaking. You’re not ill, are you?’
‘I’m perfectly all right, thank you,’ she choked out the words, frightened now by his nearness and his touch, and the burning
intensity of his eyes as they raked over her, taking in the swift and agitated rise and fall of her breast as her breath quickened. ‘Perhaps you should let Peter give you a check-up.’
‘Bernard, please! There’s nothing the matter with me physically,’ she pleaded, dragging her hands from his and edging further away from him. ‘I think I may have turned the air-conditioner up too high. I’m cold, that’s all.’
‘I think you should see Peter at any rate,’ Bernard persisted, and to her horror he walked across to the telephone and lifted the receiver. ‘This bushveld heat can have strange effects on someone who isn’t used to it.’
Olivia was beside him in an instant, placing a restraining hand on his arm and finding it a peculiar sensation to feel the soft, dark hair beneath her fingertips, and the warm, hard muscles tightening beneath her grip. He looked down at her small hand, so pale against his tanned arm, and a peculiar expression crept into his eyes.
Snatching her hand away almost at once as her cheeks flamed, she protested weakly, ‘You’ll be wasting Peter’s time. I don’t need a doctor. ’
His eyes flickered strangely as they met hers. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes—yes, I’m sure,’ she insisted, the tension stretching to breaking point between them.
‘Well, I must be on my way,’ he announced at last and, picking up his hat, he raised it in salute. ‘Thanks for the coffee, Olivia.’
As the door closed behind him she collapsed into the chair beside the telephone, a trembling hand at her throat where the aching muscles stood out prominently. She could not have stood another minute of his company, she told herself as she gently massaged her throat. Did he not realise that his presence there in her flat would upset Ilona, or was he deliberately trying to make the poor woman jealous?
‘Oh, lord, I wish he wouldn’t drag me into his plans,’ she groaned to herself as her nerves settled back into their rightful order.
After experiencing two traumatic days the rest of the week
seemed to slip by in its usual leisurely fashion, but Olivia was in for a rude awakening the Thursday afternoon when she looked up to find Bernard standing on the other side of the counter, dressed this time in pale grey slacks and spotless white shirt. His dark hair, flecked so abundantly with grey, was brushed back severely from the broad forehead, and his tanned, rugged features spoke of many hours spent in the sun.
‘I thought I’d come and find out how you are,’ he said without preamble, his probing glance searching for any signs of illness. ‘I wondered afterwards if the flight hadn’t upset you in some way.’
Her hands fluttered nervously and she lowered them to her sides, clenching them so tightly that her nails bit into her palms. ‘The flight didn’t upset me at all and, as I told you before, I’m perfectly well.’
Quick, familiar footsteps prevented him from saying anything further and they both turned to see Vivien approaching with a cake tin in her hands.
‘I’m surprised to find you in town in the middle of the week, Bernard?’ she smiled up at him with that easy familiarity which Olivia almost envied.
‘I had a few things to do in town which couldn’t wait.’
‘Well, I didn’t feel like spending the hours alone at home this afternoon, so I decided to come and have tea with you, Olivia. I’ve brought along a cake as well,’ she added, glancing expectantly at her brother. ‘Are you staying to have tea with us, Bernard?’
Olivia groaned silently, but to her relief Bernard said: ‘No, I must go, but I think I’ll ask Evalina to bake an apple tart for Saturday morning, then I’ll come and have tea with Olivia and Frances.’
Subsiding helplessly on to the stool behind the counter, Olivia watched him walk from the shop with those long, firm strides she was beginning
to know so well.
‘I’m so glad to see he’s shaved his beard off,’ Vivien remarked, her eyes glowing with an inner satisfaction that puzzled Olivia. ‘After six years of having to put up with his hairy face it makes quite a change,’ she continued, tilting her head in thought. ‘Isn’t it strange? It was only Saturday that we were discussing
that awful beard of his. ’
‘Yes, so it was,’ Olivia agreed distractedly.
‘He looks devilishly handsome without it, doesn’t he?’
Olivia avoided Vivien’s mischievous glance and evaded the question smartly. ‘There’s a very strong resemblance between the two of you that I didn’t quite notice before.’
Vivien looked at her strangely with a quiet sort of smile hovering about her lips, but Olivia had had enough and went through to the back to put on the kettle.
When the door-bell chimed in her flat that evening, Olivia went cold with fright, but glancing out of her window down into the street below, she assured herself that it was not Bernard before she crossed the lounge and opened the door.
‘Tante Maria!’ she exclaimed with relief when she saw the plump, motherly figure on her doorstep. ‘Do come in, please.’
‘We haven’t seen much of you these past few days,’ the older woman complained. ‘So I thought I’d come round and see if you were all right. ’
‘I’m fine, Tante Maria,’ Olivia assured her, but a persistent little voice inside her whispered ‘Liar’. ‘Sit down and I’ll make us a cup of coffee,’ Olivia suggested, silencing that little voice quite firmly.
‘I noticed that, since you flew to Johannesburg with Bernard King on Monday, he’s called twice to see you,’ Tante Maria remarked teasingly some time later as they sat drinking their coffee.
Olivia nodded silently, wondering helplessly whether it would help at all to discuss these new and terrifying problems with this woman she had come to look upon as her friend and confidant.
‘He’s shaved his beard off, too, I see,’ Tante Maria continued, a twinkle of mischief in her blue eyes.
‘That beard!’ Olivia thought furiously. Everyone seemed to talk about it as if there was something significant about his shaving the darned thing off. Was Bernard King so important in this community that every action, every word had to be discussed and speculated upon?
‘Tante Maria ...’ She bit her lip nervously, hesitating with indecision before she said: ‘Tante, I’m so glad you came this
evening, I—I need some advice badly.’
‘What is it, my child?’Tante Maria asked with concern. ‘If I can help you in any way, then just say so.’
‘I ... had another visitor this week,’ Olivia said hesitantly. ‘Ilona Haskins.’
‘Oh?’
Olivia looked away from the older woman’s enquiring glance as she felt her cheeks redden with renewed embarrassment. ‘She—she made it quite clear that there was an understanding between Bernard and herself, and—and she accused me of chasing after him. ’
Tante Maria gestured angrily. ‘You shouldn’t take any notice of her, child. She’s just jealous, that’s all. And, as far as accusing you of chasing after him,’ she raised her eyes towards the ceiling in a gesture of disgust, ‘what does she think she’s been doing these past six years?’
‘Tante Maria, I have no intention of interfering in whatever relationship there exists between them,’ Olivia said with deep sincerity. ‘I’m not interested in Bernard King, but he’s called twice this week since Ilona came to see me, and I just don’t know how to tell him it would be better if he stayed away. ’
‘Why should you want to do that?’ Tante Maria demanded in shocked dismay. ‘I’m beginning to think that if he’d wanted to marry Ilona he would have done so years ago, but if he’s showing an interest in you, then why send him away because of Ilona’s silly remarks?’
‘But I don’t want anything to do with him,’ Olivia exclaimed desperately, finding it totally ridiculous that Bernard could be even remotely interested in her.
‘You’re fond of his daughter, though,’ Tante Maria reminded her thoughtfully.
‘Yes, I am,’ Olivia nodded, ‘but that doesn’t mean I have to be fond of him as well.’
Tante Maria’s glance held a hint of humour that found no echo in Olivia as she heard the older woman say, ‘He’s very wealthy, and would make an excellent husband. ’
‘Tante Maria, I’m not looking for a husband, and wealth has never attracted me. Besides ...’ she drew a quivering, frightened breath, ‘I think you’re quite mistaken about him having any real interest in me.’
‘Then tell me, Olivia,’ Tante Maria began earnestly as she leaned forward in her chair with an expression on her face that made Olivia hold her breath. ‘Why would a man like Bernard King suddenly shave off a beard he’s had for so many years, and why would he come to town twice in the middle of the week, all dressed up, when for years he’s only been seen on Saturdays like most of the other ranchers in the district?’
If a stick of dynamite had exploded at her feet Olivia could not have been more stunned and shocked as she expelled the air from her lungs and shrank deeper into her chair, her grey eyes wide and frightened. ‘Tante Maria ... I hope you’re mistaken,’ she whispered shakily.
‘Perhaps,’ the older woman shrugged without a glimmer of a smile on her face, ‘but it looks that way to me.’
‘Oh, heavens!’ Olivia’s heart hammered in her throat as she covered her flaming face with trembling hands. This was dreadful! Tante Maria had to be mistaken, but her explanation sounded so frighteningly logical that Olivia shivered as if someone had dropped a block of ice down her back, and her face, when she finally lowered her hands, was pale and pinched, her eyes a deep blue instead of grey. ‘What am I going to do?’ she pleaded on a note of desperation.
‘Nothing,’ Tante Maria replied instantly, her expression stating clearly that, had she been Olivia’s age, she would have been thrilled at the knowledge that someone such as Bernard King should be interested in her, and she was obviously finding Olivia’s reluctance difficult to understand. ‘Ignore what Ilona said to you, and let Bernard King come and see you if he wants to.’ ‘But I don’t particularly want to see him!’
‘You can’t be rude to a member of the King family,’ Tante Maria warned her with some severity. ‘They’re respected and very well liked in this community, Olivia. Remember that.’
Tante Maria left soon afterwards, announcing that she intended getting to bed early, but for Olivia it was the beginning of a long, torturous night with very little sleep as she tossed away the hours until sunrise the following day. She had wanted help and advice from Tante Maria, but their discussion had merely increased her problems a thousand times more. Bernard King interested in her? It was ridiculous, and yet ... Why did he shave that infernal beard off? It couldn’t have been because of her, but Tante Maria seemed to think so, and Vivien’s pointed remarks and satisfied expression now seemed to indicate that she thought so too.
‘They’re wrong, though,’ she spoke aloud into the darkness as she recalled Ilona’s remark. ‘I’m so glad he took my advice at last and shaved that dreadful beard off. ’
That statement contradicted all Tante Maria’s claims, but it did nothing to eliminate the growing wariness within Olivia. Bernard King was not the kind of man she could ever become interested in. He was far too disturbing for her ever to relax in his company, and the mere thought of him being interested in her, or wanting to take her in his arms, made her suppress a shudder as she shrank deeper beneath the sheets, almost as if she could escape from her thoughts in that manner.
But what if it were true? Oh, no, no, no! She couldn’t bear it! And what about Ilona? Ilona who had stated so vehemently that she had given up six years of her life for Bernard and had no intention of losing him to an insignificant little shopkeeper like herself?
Insignificant—that’s just what she was. So why should Bernard show any real interest in her? There had to be some
other, more acceptable explanation. There just had to be!
Olivia struggled through the following day, her fear of coming face to face with Bernard making her jumpy each time someone entered the shop, but at the end of the day lack of sleep and the increasing heat took its toll, and she crawled into bed immediately after an early supper, falling asleep instantly and dreamlessly.
When Bernard brought Frances to the shop the following morning, Olivia was relieved to see that he came no further than the door, and merely raised his hand in greeting before climbing back into his Land Rover. Frances stared after him for a moment before hurrying towards Olivia and pressing a cake tin into her hands.
‘That’s the apple pie Daddy promised you,’ she announced when Olivia frowned down at it curiously.
‘Oh, yes,’ she smiled. ‘I’d forgotten.’
‘Daddy looks so different without his beard, and I think he looks much nicer too, but Miss Haskins was very angry with him when she came to the farm last Sunday morning and saw that he’d shaved it off,’ Frances informed Olivia as they took the cake tin through to the back. ‘Don’t you like him better without his beard, Olivia?’
‘Frances ... ’ she hesitated confusedly. Ilona had gone to great lengths to make her understand that Bernard had shaved his beard off because she had asked him to, but Frances, without realising it, had just contradicted that statement. ‘Why did your father shave his beard off?’ she asked at length, afraid, yet determined to get to the bottom of this mystery once and for all.
‘I told him you didn’t particularly like a beard,’ the child announced boldly, and a wave of faintness overwhelmed Olivia, forcing her to clutch at the table for support.
‘Oh, Frances, how could you!’
‘But you did say so, Olivia,’ Frances reminded her only too vividly of her evasive remark which should not have gone further than this shop, and most certainly should not have been taken seriously.
‘Yes, I know, but—’ Olivia broke off abruptly at the sight of Frances’ anxious little face staring up at her in consternation, and hugged the child instead. ‘Oh, it doesn’t matter.’
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