believe you.' His hand was moving higher. 'You men are all the same. You all stick together.' Her anger was fast solidifying into a burning resentment of Johnny Delange, one in which she was willing to take a calculated revenge. She knew that Davy's hand was no longer trying to comfort her and quench her anger. Before she married Johnny Delange, Hettie had had every opportunity to learn about men, and she had been an enthusiastic and receptive pupil. She placed no special importance on an act of the flesh, dispensing her favours as casually as someone might offer a cigarette-case around.
'Why not?' she thought. 'That will fix Mr. Johnny Delange! Not all the way, of course, but just enough to get my own back on him.' 'No, Hettie. It's true I tell you.' Davy's voice was husky, as he felt her knees fall apart under his hand. He touched the silky-smooth skin above her stocking top.
The Monaco slowed to almost walking pace, and it was ten minutes more before they reached the company-owned house on the outskirts of Kitchenerville.
In the back seat Johnny groaned. Immediately Davy's hand jerked back to the steering- wheel, and Hettie sat up in the seat, straightening her skirt.
'Help me get him inside,' she said, and her voice was shaky and her cheeks flushed. She was no longer angry.
They were both a little tipsy. They had stopped to celebrate Rod's promotion at the Surmyside Hotel.
They had sat side by side in one of the booths, drinking quickly, excitedly, laughing together, sitting close but not touching.
Terry Steyner could not remember when she had last behaved this way. It must have been all of ten years ago, her last term at Cape Town varsity, swigging draught beer in the Pig and Whistle at Randall's Hotel and talking the most inane rubbish. All the matronly dignity that Manfred insisted she maintain was gone, she felt like a freshette on a first date with the captain of the rugby team.
'Let's get out of here,' Rod said suddenly, and she stood up unquestioningly. He took her arm down the stairs, and the light touch of his fingers tingled on her bare skin.
In the Maserati again she experienced the feeling of isolation from reality.
'How often do you see your daughter, Rod?' she asked as he settled into the seat beside her, and he glanced at her, surprised.
'Every Sunday.'
'Tomorrow?'
'Yes.'
'How old is she?'
'Nine next birthday.'
'What do you do with her? Rod pressed the starter.
'How do you mean?'
'Where do you take her, what do you do together?'
'We go rowing on Zoo Lake, or eat ice cream sundaes. if it's cold or raining we sit in the apartment and we play mali-jong.' He let in the clutch, and as they pulled away he added, 'She cheats.'
'The apartment?'
'I keep a hideaway in town.'
'Where?' 'I'll show you,' said Rod quietly.
She sat on the studio couch and looked about her with interest. She had not expected the obvious care that he had taken in furnishing the apartment. It was in wheat field gold, chocolate brown and copper.
There was a glorious glowing autumn landscape on the far wall that she recognized as a Dina Paravano.
She noticed a little ruefully how Rod stage-managed the lighting for full romantic effect, and then moved automatically to the liquor cabinet.
'Where is the bathroom?' Terry asked.
'Second left, down the passage.' She lingered in the bathroom, opening the medicine cabinet like a thief. There were three toothbrushes hanging in the slots, and below them an aerosol can of Bider.
Quickly she shut the cabinet. Feeling disturbed, not sure if it was jealousy or guilt at her own prying.
The bedroom door was open and so she could not help seeing the double bed as she went back to the lounge. She stood in front of the painting.
'I love his work,' she said.
'Not too photographic for your taste?'
'No. I love it.' He gave her the drink and stood beside her, studying the painting. She tinkled the ice in her glass, and he turned towards her. The feeling of unreality was still holding Terry as she felt him take the glass from her hand.
She was conscious of his hands only, they were strong and very practised. They touched her shoulders, and then moved onto her back calmly. She felt a voluptuous shudder shake her whole body, and then his mouth came down over hers and the sense of unreality was complete.
It was all warm and misty, and she let him take control.
She never knew how long afterwards she jerked back to complete, chilling reality. They were on the couch. She lay in his arms. The front of her slack suit was open to the waist and her bra was unhooked.
His head was bowed over her and with a handful of thick springy hair she was directing his lips in their quest. His mouth was warm and sucky on her breast.
'I must be mad!' she gasped, and struggled violently from his arms.
She was trembling with fright, horrified with herself Nothing like this had ever happened to her before.
'This is madness!' Her eyes were great dark pools in her pale face, and her fingers were frantic as she buttoned her blouse. As the last button slipped into its hole, anger replaced her fright. 'How many women have you seduced on that couch, Rodney Ironsides?'
Rod stood up, reaching out a hand to reassure her.
'Don't touch me!' She stepped back. 'I want to go home!'
'I'll take you home, Terry. just calm down. Nothing happened.'
'That's not your fault,' she blazed.
'No, it's not,' he agreed.
'If you had your way, you'd have- she bit it off.
'Yes, I would have.' Rod nodded. 'But only if you wanted the same thing.' She stared at him, starting to recover her temper and her control.
'I shouldn't have come up here, I know. It was asking for trouble, but please take me home now.'
The telephone woke Rod. He checked his wrist watch as he tottered naked and half asleep through to the lounge. Eight o'clock.
'Ironsides!' He yawned into. the mouthpiece, and then came fully awake as he recognized her voice.
'Good morning, Terry. How's your hangover?' He had not expected to hear from her again.
'Just bearable.' 'I called to thank you for an amusing and instructive evening.'
'Hark at the girl!' He grinned and scratched his chest.
'She changes with the wind. Last night I expected a bullet between the eyes. 'Last night I got one big fright,' she admitted.
'It comes as a bit of a shock to discover suddenly that you are quite capable of acting the wanton. Not all the names I called you were meant.'
'I am sorry for my contribution to your distress,' Rod said.
'Don't be, you were very impressive.' Then quickly, changing the subject, 'You are picking up your daughter today?'
'Yes.'
'I'd like to meet her.'
'That could be arranged.' Rod was cautious.
'Does she like horses?'
'She's crazy about them.'
'Would you like to take her and me out to my stud farm on the Vaal river?' Rod hesitated. 'Is it safe? I mean, being seen together?'
'It's my reputation, I'll look after it.
'Fine!' Rod agreed. 'We'd love to visit your farm.'
'I'll meet you at your apartment. When?'
'Half past nine!' Patti was still in her dressing-gown and she offered Rod her cheek casually to be pecked. There were curlers in her hair and from her eyes he could tell she'd had a late night.
'Hello, you're getting thin. Melly is dressing. Do you want some coffee? Your maintenance cheque was late again this month.' And she took a swipe at the spaniel pup as it squatted on the carpet. 'Damn dog pees all over the place.
Melanie.' She raised her voice. 'Hurry up! Your Papa is here.'
'Hello, Daddy!' Melanie's voice shrieked delightedly from the interior of the apartment.
'Hello, baby.'
'You can't come in, Daddy, I haven't got any clothes on.'
'Well hurry up! I've come a million miles to see you.' 'Not a million!' You couldn't fool Melanie Ironsides.
'Did you say you wanted coffee? It's no trouble, it's made already.
'Pattie led him through into the sitting- room.
'Thanks.'
'How are things?' she asked as she filled a cup and gave it to him.
'They've made me General Manager of the Sander Ditch.' He could not prevent himself, it was too good. He had to boast.
Patti looked at him, startled.
'You're joking!' she
