would read from her smile the green light to go ahead and he would take her. She hoped he wouldn’t turn shy. It was possible he might be too scared of her to take what she was offering, but she thought that couldn’t be possible.
With her heart beating fast, she picked up the telephone receiver.
“Give me room 556, please.”
“Certainly madame… a moment, please.”
Helga grimaced. Of course the girl knew who she was speaking to. The slight flustered note in her voice told her that
There was a long pause, then the girl said, “I’m sorry, madame, there is no reply.”
No reply! Helga’s fingers tightened on the receiver. Surely he couldn’t be asleep already? She looked at the wall clock. It was 22.35.
“Try again!” she was immediately sorry for allowing her voice to sound so harsh.
“Yes, madame.” Again a long pause, then the girl said, “I’m very sorry, madame, but there is still no reply.”
Helga drew in a long, slow breath. Only with an effort, she kept control of her temper.
“Give me the reception desk!”
There was another infuriating delay, then the Reception Manager came on the line. During the wait, Helga guessed the girl had alerted him. When he answered, there was a bow in his voice.
“Madame Rolfe? Is there anything I can do?”
“I want to speak to my chauffeur.”
“Your chauffeur?” There was a slight lift in his voice of surprise. She thought bitterly, if she had asked to be connected to God he might have been less surprised. “Of course, madame… please, a moment.”
She sat on the bed, feeling the sensual warmth of her body evaporating.
“Madame?” The voice came back on the line.
“Well?” She knew the snap in her voice was unfortunate, but she couldn’t control it.
“Your chauffeur has gone out. He left an hour ago. Is there anything I can do?”
“He has gone out?” A mistake, Helga thought, but she couldn’t keep the words back.
“Did you want him, madame?” The bowing voice took on a worried note.
Do you want him? Helga’s body ached. How I want him!
“No… it isn’t important.” Slowly she replaced the receiver.
She got off the bed and walked to the window. She pulled aside the drapes and looked down at the busy street. The snow had stopped falling. The trams clanged and sparks flew from the overhead cables. People, in furs, walked carefully over the frozen snow. She let the drapes drop and went over to the bed and slipped on the chiffon wrap. She felt cold and now she wished she hadn’t drunk so much.
It was her own fault, she told herself. She hadn’t given him the slightest hint that she wanted him to come to her room. But where had he gone?
She dropped on to the bed, staring up at the ceiling.
Had he got this urge he had told her about… the urge that was now crucifying her? Had he gone out into the cold and the snow in search of some cheap little whore when she was here, in luxury and warmth, longing for him?
She lay there, her mind tormented, then after a while, she began to weep.
CHAPTER THREE
From a drugged sleep, Helga came awake at 08.00. She turned on the bedside lamp and then lay still, staring up at the ceiling. Thank God, she thought, for sleeping pills!
Making the effort, she picked up the telephone receiver.
“Coffee, please. Please tell my chauffeur I will be leaving at nine o’clock. Have my account ready,” and she replaced the receiver.
As she got out of bed she thought what a fool she would look if they called back to tell her her chauffeur was missing. It was possible Larry had walked out on her… he might even have taken her car! Then she told herself to be realistic. She had his passport. Anyway, why should she doubt him? Last night had been her fault. She hadn’t given him the slightest hint she wanted him to make love to her.
She hated the sight of herself as she looked in the bathroom mirror, but she wasn’t dismayed. She was an expert at repairing damage.
After drinking two cups of coffee and after using every guile in her make-up box, she again looked in the mirror and this time she nodded her approval.
There came a tap on the door. She slipped on her mink coat, picked up her hat and opened the door.
The manager of the hotel, behind him a porter, bowed with a smile.
“Your car is waiting, madame.”
Together they went in the elevator to the reception lobby. Because she knew it was expected of her, she said how well she had slept and how pleased she had been with the room.
Beaming his pleasure, the manager escorted her to the desk and a bowing clerk slid the account across the polished wood. After glancing at the total, she paid. As the clerk was changing her Travellers’ cheques she looked more closely at the bill.
An item caught her eye.
“What is this? A call to Hamburg?”
The clerk looked at the account, then at her and his expression became worried.
“Yes, madame. Your chauffeur made the call.”
Fifteen francs! It must have been a long call, she thought.
“Of course… I was forgetting.”
She picked up her change, shook hands with the clerk, saying she would see him next year, then, escorted by the manager, watched by a group of tourists, waiting for their bus, she went out into the cold where the Mercedes was parked.
Larry was standing by the car. She looked quickly at him. He gave her his warm, friendly smile as he opened the offside door. The porter put her bags into the boot and she tipped him. The manager, his nose now blue with the cold, still managed to keep a bright smile on his face. She shook hands with him, slid into the passenger’s seat while Larry ran around the car and got in under the wheel.
There were more bows, then Larry moved the car into the traffic.
“Morning, ma’am,” he said, his voice cheerful.
“You turn right at the end of the street, then straight ahead,” Helga said, her voice cold and hostile.
“Sure, ma’am, I know the way, I got it all figured out on a map.”
“That was very clever of you.”
The snap in her voice wasn’t lost on him and he looked quickly at her.
“Are you okay, ma’am?”
“I have a headache. Would you please keep quiet?”
“Sure, ma’am… is there anything I can do?”
“Just keep quiet.”
She knew she was behaving badly and she realized looking at him, that her petulance had made no impression on him. She saw him give a slight shrug, then he concentrated on his driving. She was irritated that he was so efficient, getting them through the Basle traffic with ease and then on to the autobahn to Zurich. She had always hated this part of the drive and often she had made a mistake.
Determined to sulk, she smoked cigarette after cigarette in silence, staring at the broad road as it came towards her. She had done this run so often, it bored her. But finally, as they approached the outskirts of Zurich, she said, “Do you know the way through the City?”
“Sure, ma’am,” he said calmly. “Right ahead, forking left at the traffic lights, through the tunnel and on to the Chur bypass.”
