the overhead intercom pinged softly into this room of soft fabrics and muted colours, and hurry started slightly.
'yes,' he said, without turning away from the window.
'doctor steyner is here, mr. hirschfeld,' his secretary's voice whispered, ghostly and disembodied into the luscious room.
'send him in,' snapped hurry. that god damned intercom always gave him the creeps. the whole god damned room gave him the creeps. it was, as hurry had said often and loudly, like a fairy brothel.
for fifty-five years he had worked in a bleak uncarpeted office with a few yellowing photographs of men and machinery on its walls.
then they had moved him in here he glanced around the room with the distaste that five years had not lulled. what did they think he was, a bloody ladies' hairdresser?
the panelling door slid noiselessly aside and doctor manfred steyner stepped neatly into the room.
'good morning, grandfather,' he said. for ten years, even since terry had been bird-brained enough to marry him, manfred steyner had called hurry hirschfeld that, and hurry hated it. he remembered now that manfred steyner was also responsible for the design and decor of reef house, and therefore the author of his recent irritation.
'whatever it is you want no!' he said, and he moved across to the air-conditioning controls. the thermostat was already set at 'high', now hurry turned it to 'highest'.
within minutes the room would be at the correct temperature for growing orchids.
'how are you this morning, grandfather?' manfred seemed not to have heard, his expression was bland and neutral as he moved to the desk and laid out his papers.
'bloody awful,' said hurry. it was impossible to disconcert the little prig, he thought, you might as well shout insults at an efficiently functioning piece of machinery.
'i am sorry to hear that.' manfred took out his handkerchief and touched his chin and forehead. 'i have the weekly reports.' hurry capitulated and went across to the desk. this was business. he sat down and read quickly. his questions were abrupt, cutting and instantly answered, but manfred's handkerchief was busy now, swabbing and dabbing. twice he removed his spectacles and wiped steam from the lenses.
'can i turn the air-conditioning down a little, grandfather?'
'you touch it and i'll kick your arse,' said hurry without looking up.
another five minutes and manfred steyner stood up suddenly.
'excuse me, grandfather.' and he shot across the office and disappeared into the adjoining bathroom suite. hurry cocked his head to listen, and when he heard the taps hiss he grinned happily. the air-conditioning was the only method he had discovered of disconcerting
manfred steyner, and for ten years he had been experimenting with various techniques.
'don't use all the soap,' he shouted gleefully. 'you are the one always on about office expenses!' it did not seem ludicrous to hurry that one of the richest and most influential men in africa should devote so much time and energy to baiting his personal assistant.
at eleven o'clock manfred steyner gathered his papers and began packing them carefully in his monogrammed pigskin briefcase.
'about the appointment of a new general manager for the sander ditch to replace mr. lemmer. you will recall my memo regarding the_ appointment of younger men to key positions-'
'never read the-bloody thing,' lied hurry hirschfeld.
they both knew he read everything, and remembered it.
'well-' manfred went on to enlarge his thesis for a minute, then ended, 'in view of this, my department, myself concurring entirely, urges the appointment of rodney barry ironsides, the present underground manager, to the position. i hoped that you would initial the recommendation and we can put it through at friday's meeting.'
dexterously manfred slid the yellow memo in front of hurry hirschfeld, unscrewed the cap of his pen and offered it to him. hurry picked the memo up between thumb and forefinger as though it were someone's dirty handkerchief and dropped it into the waste-paper bin.
'do you wish me to tell you in detail what you and your planning department can do?' he asked.
'grandfather,' manfred admonished him mildly, 'you cannot run the company as though you were a robber baron. you cannot ignore the team of highly trained men who are your advisers.'
'i've run it that way for fifty years. you show me who's going to change that.' hurry leaned back in his chair with vast satisfaction and fished a powerful- looking cigar out of his inner pocket.
'grandfather, that cigar! the doctor said-' 'and i said fred plummer gets the job as manager of the sander ditch.'
'he goes on pension next year,' protested manfred steyner.
'yes, hurry nodded. 'but how does that alter the position?'
'he's an old dodderers' manfred tried again, there was a desperate edge to his voice. he had not anticipated one of the old man's whims cutting across his plans.
'he's twelve years younger than i am,' growled hurry ominously.
'how's that make him an old dodderer?'
now that the weekend was over, rod found the apartment oppressive, and he longed to get out of it.
he shaved, standing naked before the mirror, and he caught a whiff of the reeking ashtrays and half-empty glasses in the lounge. the char would have her customary monday morning greeting when she came in later today. from louis botha avenue the traffic noise was starting to build up and he glanced at his watch six o'clock in the morning. a good time to examine your soul, he decided, and leaned forward to watch his own eyes in the mirror.
'you're too old for this type of living,' he told himself seriously.
'you've had four years of it now, four years since the divorce, and that's about enough. it would be nice now to go to bed with the same woman on two consecutive nights.' he rinsed his razor, and turned on the taps in the shower cabinet.
'might even be able to afford it, if our boy manfred delivers the goods.' rod had not allowed himself to believe too implicitly in manfred steyner's promise; but during the whole of these last two days the excitement had been there beneath the cynicism.
he stepped into the shower and soaped himself, then turned the cold tap full on. gasping he shut it off and reached for his towel.
still drying himself, he went through and stood at the foot of the bed; as he towelled himself he examined the girl who lay among the tousled sheets.
she was tanned dark toffee brown so she appeared to be dressed in white transparent bra and panties where the skin was untouched by the sun.
her hair was a blonde-gold flurry across her face and the pillow, at odds with the jet black triangle of body hair. her lips in sleep were fixed in a soft pink pout, and she looked disquietingly young.
rod had to make a conscious effort to remember her name, she was not the companion with whom he had begun the weekend.
'lucille,' he said, sitting down beside her. 'wake up.
time to roll.' she opened her eyes.
'good morning,' he said and kissed her gently.
'mmm.' she blinked. 'what time is it? i don't want to get fired.' 'six,' he told her.
'oh, good. plenty of time.' and she rolled over and snuggled down into the sheets.
'like hell.' he slapped her bottom lightly. 'move, girl, can you cook?'
'no-' she lifted her head. 'what's your name again?' she asked.
'rod,' he told her.
'that's right. piston rod,' she giggled. 'what a way to die!
are you sure you aren't powered by steam?' 'how old are you? 'he asked.
'nineteen. how old are you?'
'thirty-eight.'
'daddy, you're vintage!' she told him vehemently.
'yes, sometimes i feel that way.' he stood up. 'let's go.'
'you go. i'll lock up when i leave.' 'no sale,' he said, the last one he had left in the flat had cleaned it out groceries, liquor, glasses, towels, even the ashtrays. 'five minutes to dress. 'fortunately she lived on his way. she directed him to a run-down block of flats under the mine dumps at booysens.
'i'm putting three blind sisters through school. you want to help?' she asked as he parked the maserati.
'sure.' he eased a five-rand note out of his wallet and handed it to her.
'ta muchly.' and she slipped out of the red leather seat, closed the door and walked away. she did not look back before she disappeared into the block, and rod felt an unaccountable wave of loneliness wash over him. it was so intense that he sat quiescent for a full minute before he could throw it off, then he hit the gears and screeched away from the kerb.
'my little five-rand friend,' he said. 'she really cares!' he drove fast, so that as he topped the kraalkop ridge the shadows were still long, and the dew lay silver on the grass. he pulled the maserati into a lay by and
