Читать книгу An Image Of You - Liz Fielding - Страница 6

Lukas was sitting facing the doorway of the dining-room. He stared distractedly into space, his long fingers playing with a spoon and totally unaware of her presence. George paused in the opening and made a point of looking short-sightedly about her until she was sure she had attracted the attention of at least half of those present. As if suddenly aware that something demanded his attention, he looked up and saw her. It was a moot point whether he actually flinched, but George was not prepared to give him the benefit of the doubt. She waved enthusiastically and sailed towards him, firmly repressing the urge to try a theatrical ‘trip’. There was a limit to what she might be expected to get away with.

‘That’s better.’ She grinned widely from behind her spectacles, keeping her amusement at the tight line of his mouth firmly under control. ‘Have you ordered for me?’

‘An English breakfast. You said you were hungry. You can help yourself to fruit or cereals from the buffet.’ He carelessly waved at the laden tables in the centre of the dining-room.

‘Oh, how lovely!’ she exclaimed as if she had only just noticed the lavish spread of tropical fruit. ‘But I don’t … That is …’ she stammered. ‘It’s all … rather strange to me,’ she ended, peering anxiously at him from behind the spectacles, wondering how she had ever managed without such a wonderful prop before. ‘Would you help me to choose?’

Lukas sat very still for a moment, and George could see the battle between his desire to strangle her and natural good manners pass briefly across his face. Good manners won, by a very short head.

‘Of course.’ He dropped his napkin beside his plate and rose to his feet. She had forgotten how tall he was, well over six feet, and dwarfing her own feeble five foot six. He certainly attracted a great deal of attention as he led her around the buffet, showing her the different tropical fruits and attempting to explain the taste of papaw, mangoes, guavas and tree melons. She exclaimed loudly at these treats, feigned indecision and revelled in his embarrassment. ‘Why don’t you just try everything?’ he said finally, allowing a hint of sarcasm to harden the edge of his voice.

‘Oh, I couldn’t!’ George exclaimed, and helped herself to the slice of papaw she had always intended to have.

Once he had settled her back in her seat, and served her with hot coffee, Lukas cleared his throat. ‘I’m afraid there seems to have been a slight misunderstanding, Miss Bainbridge—’

She interrupted. ‘George. All my friends call me George, Mr Lukas, and I am sure we’re going to be very good friends.’

He declined to comment on that possibility and resumed where he had left off. ‘I was expecting a man. When Miss Bishop telexed that I should expect George Bainbridge, I naturally assumed …’

George laughed loudly. ‘You’d be amazed how many people make that mistake, but nobody ever calls me Georgette. Daddy always wanted a son, you see. I’m afraid all he got were daughters. Henry, Max and me.’

Lukas made a brave effort to recover from this revelation. ‘The trouble is—er—George, it’s going to cause some difficulty with the accommodation. Michael Prior was sharing a tent with me. And we don’t have any spare room in with the girls.’

George choked on a piece of fruit and Lukas leapt up to beat on her back. Rather harder than necessary, she thought as she waved him away. ‘I’m all right. Really.’ Removing her glasses, she wiped her eyes, then sipped some coffee. She took a deep breath. ‘Did you say tent?’

For the first time since they had met Lukas looked happy. As he resumed his seat he actually smiled. ‘Yes. Two-man tents. Didn’t Miss Bishop mention that?’ He poured himself some more coffee. ‘We’re camped south of Nairobi, on the Athi River. Did you think we were shooting in Nairobi?’

George said nothing. She was speechless. She hadn’t had much time to think about the shoot itself. She had thought her only problem was Lukas. But her father had known nothing of that incident. He did know, however, that she hated camping. That she loathed insects of any description and, worst of all, she was terrified of the dark. Pa was certainly getting his pound of flesh out of her.

Two weeks of Lukas, to ensure a better life for some youngsters who needed her help, had seemed a small price to pay. Too small. She should have known her father better than that. He was challenging her at long distance. How badly did she believe in her refuge? She drew in a deep, steadying breath. Badly enough.

‘We may be able to get another tent from somewhere,’ Lukas went on doubtfully, a speculative look in his eye, at her sudden pallor. ‘Although we had the very devil of a job to get the ones we’re using. But if you won’t mind being on your own …’ Lukas helped himself to some toast, his appetite apparently restored. ‘I suppose as long as you don’t wander about at night you should be safe enough.’ She stared at him as he bit into the toast, exposing a row of even white teeth, then shuddered. ‘Do you normally wear glasses, George?’

‘Glasses?’ In her shock she had forgotten all about them. George ducked, quickly replacing her disguise. ‘Oh, yes. Always. I can’t do without them.’

Lukas shook his head. ‘Just for the moment I thought I had seen you somewhere before. The colour of your eyes is … unusual.’

‘Perhaps we’ve passed in my father’s office,’ she said quickly, making a determined effort to pull herself back into her role. ‘Although I’m sure I would have remembered,’ she gushed.

‘Your father’s office?’ She could almost hear the cogs working as he took in what she had said. ‘Charles is your father?’ He stared in disbelief. ‘Miss Bishop said in her telex to expect a young relative of Sir Charles … but then I knew he only had daughters …’

‘And you were expecting a man!’ She forced herself to laugh out loud at this wonderful joke.

She saw a sudden spark of hope light his dark eyes. ‘Well, Miss Bainbridge … sorry, George,’ he corrected himself, making a belated attempt at friendliness. ‘I realise that you can’t possibly be expected to share a tent with me. It would be most improper. Your father …’

George found herself unexpectedly offered a get-out. Lukas didn’t want her. He would rather have no assistant at all than this badly dressed, unattractive creature. Her skill was of no importance to him, she reflected bitterly.

She could go home and say, quite truthfully, that when Lukas had found out that it was a girl they had sent him he had said no, thank you. But she had the strongest feeling that she wouldn’t be believed. Who would believe such a ridiculous story? And Pa wouldn’t keep his promise to help with the refuge. Oh, no, Mr Lukas, she thought as she sipped her coffee. You’re not getting rid of me that easily. And she took comfort from the fact that her enforced presence on the shoot was as irritating for Lukas as it was for her.

Lukas had his hands on the table in front of him, his fingers laced together, his expression that of a man behaving with the utmost valour. George reached out and patted them kindly. Leaning forward, in a confidential tone she said, ‘Do you know the very last thing Pa said to me yesterday? He said, “George, keep Mr Lukas happy.” So don’t you worry yourself a bit. It will be a relief to share a tent with you. I shall feel completely safe.’ And that too was the truth, she thought grimly, firmly suppressing a shiver at the thought of being alone in a tent in the bush. Anything would be better than that. And she was sure that she would be perfectly safe from any unwanted attentions. There seemed little likelihood of Lukas making a pass at her. ‘Oh, look. Here’s breakfast.’ She gazed at a plate piled high with more than she normally ate in a week for breakfast. ‘Yummy,’ she said, hoping the dismay she felt was not evident in her voice.

Lukas had obviously decided against a cooked breakfast. Instead he closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair, giving George a chance to study his face as she nibbled a slice of bacon. In repose he looked younger, less dangerous. And his eyelashes were scandalously long. It was a pity he wasted so much time on pointless work: calendars, pin-up girls, beauty competitions. A photographer with his talent and reputation could do a great deal of good with his camera.

‘When you’ve finished we’ll get off.’ He hadn’t opened his eyes and he made her jump. She wondered uneasily if he had been aware of her appraisal.

‘So soon? I would have liked to see a little of Nairobi.’

‘I’m not in the guided-tour business and this isn’t a holiday, Miss … George. If you’re going to be my assistant you had better accept that right now.’ He had stopped being polite, lifting heavy lids slightly to see the effect his words were having on her. ‘Preferably without having to be told twice.’

He had apparently decided that he was stuck with her. But he didn’t like it. And she was ridiculously glad he didn’t like it. But she kept her smile inside. She abandoned her effort to eat another sausage.

‘I’ll get my bags, then.’ He stood up and she waited for him to offer to collect them for her. He didn’t.

‘I’ll be waiting in the jeep. Don’t be long.’

‘No. At least I don’t suppose it will take long to phone home, will it? I did promise Pa I would let him know I had arrived safely.’ Some devil was driving her to annoy him, and she was unable to resist this last gibe.

Lukas placed his hands on the table and leaned across at her, his face very close to hers. She had time to notice that his eyes were grey, flecked curiously with blue, and they were surrounded by small white lines from being screwed up against the sun. It seemed unlikely that they were laughter-lines. A small muscle worked in his jaw.

‘Miss Bainbridge,’ he said heavily, ‘I have wasted enough time today coming to Nairobi to fetch you. I’m going straight back. And if you are going to work for me, so are you. If your father wants to know that you arrived safely he will have to telephone the airline.’

George knew that she had gone too far. She wanted Lukas embarrassed, she wanted him unhappy. Angry she could do without.

‘I’m …’ But he was in full flow and not about to be stopped.

‘When I am working on location I work twenty-four hours a day. Seven days a week. And when I work, everybody works.’ He let his words sink in. Then he continued with obvious relish, ‘As my assistant you will be at my beck and call every moment of your waking life—and your sleeping one if I decide I need you in the night. So perhaps you had better decide where your priorities lie right now. I haven’t the time to run back and forth to Nairobi so that you can telephone your father.’ He stood up. ‘I thought the man had more sense …’ he muttered.

She fumed inwardly. ‘It’s just as well we’ll be sharing a tent, then,’ she replied sharply. ‘I can ask your permission when I need to use the lavatory.’

His eyes narrowed and, realising that she had let her disguise slip, she giggled and hiccuped. ‘But I’d better not tell Pa. He might not understand.’

Like a drowning man, he clutched at the offered straw. ‘You’re right. He might not. Look, why don’t you just stay in Nairobi for a few days? Have a look around. There’s a lot to see. Just enjoy yourself. No one will blame you; it’s well known that I’ve a short fuse. You could just say I was impossible to work for. There are plenty of people who would believe you.’ He sounded genuinely sympathetic. He almost smiled. ‘You can see how difficult it’s going to be. That’s the reason I prefer a male assistant. It will be very rough going, you know.’

Cruelly she snatched this straw from his grasp. ‘Now, Mr Lukas …’

‘Lukas, just Lukas!’ he appealed.

‘Oh, yes. Like “just George”.’ She giggled, again. ‘Now Lukas, you remember what I said. Pa said I was to keep you happy. And keep you happy I will. However will you manage if you don’t have someone to hold your light meter? I’ll just go and get my bags, and then we can be off.’

‘Hold my light meter …?’ For a moment she thought he was going to explode. Instead he straightened and with a shrug said, ‘I’ll meet you out front.’

And he was waiting impatiently behind the wheel when she returned. She threw her bags into the back and jumped up beside him. He stared in horror at the floppy hat she had added to her outfit with what, modesty thrown to the four winds, she believed to be a touch of genius. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it again in a hard line.

‘Well? What are we waiting for?’ she asked with a happy smile. ‘I thought you were in a hurry.’

He made no reply, started the jeep and executed a vicious U-turn before skidding away from the Norfolk Hotel.

They had travelled several miles before he spoke. ‘That is a terrible hat.’

George touched the offending headgear. ‘Oh. Do you think so? It’s just to keep the sun off. This is hardly Ascot, is it?’

He gave her a sideways glance, taking in her motley attire, and grinned. ‘Hardly. And I certainly wouldn’t want you to get sunstroke. At least the other girls won’t feel threatened.’

‘Girls?’ she repeated, refusing to get angry over his careless personal remark. After all, she told herself, she didn’t care what he thought of her.

‘They’re highly strung creatures. They don’t like competition from non-professionals.’

‘I’m sorry. I don’t understand. What girls?’

Lukas stared at her. ‘The models. There are three of them. Kelly, Amber and Peach.’ He sighed. ‘For the calendar. Your father’s calendar.’

‘Calendar.’ She breathed the word. It wasn’t a question, because she knew now the full extent of her father’s punishment. And half an hour ago she could have escaped. But not now. Now she was headed towards some unknown camp with Lukas. She had a few traveller’s cheques, but no return air ticket, no way of getting home without throwing herself upon her father’s mercy. And that she was not about to do. She was trapped and she would have to make the most of it.

‘Yes, calendar. Didn’t your father tell you?’

She shook her head. ‘He was having a little joke with me. He has quite a sense of humour.’

Lukas glanced at her and almost smiled. ‘Yes, I’d agree with that. So, tell me what you know about photography. What you’ve done.’ He added, a little grimly, ‘If anything.’

She didn’t answer immediately, couldn’t trust herself to, and she dug her nails into the palms of her hand to stop herself saying exactly what she thought. Lukas, it seemed, was in no hurry; his expression was unreadable as he waited for her to collect her thoughts. She sat desperately trying to think of something clever to say as Nairobi dipped below the skyline behind them and they began to drive eastwards across the empty plain.

For a while she had been enjoying the little game she was playing, but suddenly it wasn’t a game. She stared out at the wide horizons, looking for inspiration. The hills over to the right were hazy blue, and the plain rolled away from them. It was vast, beautiful.

George gave herself a mental shake. What on earth was she complaining about? Perhaps being a colourless doormat under the feet of Lukas for two weeks was more than flesh and blood would be able to sustain. But she would certainly try. And she might as well get some amusement from it.

‘I’ve taken lots of family photos,’ she said, hesitantly, making sure to keep her face quite serious. ‘The dogs. My sister’s babies.’ She stole a glance at Lukas. His face was set and hard as he took in her answer. ‘They are very good. Everyone says so.’

‘Dogs and babies.’ His voice was expressionless. ‘I see. Anything else?’

She pretended to think. ‘I took a photograph of the Princess Royal once.’

‘Oh?’ he said, rousing a little more interest.

‘Yes. She came to open a new wing at school. Of course she was just Princess Anne then … I sent her a copy that I printed myself. She wrote and thanked me.’ She counted to three silently. ‘At least her lady-in-waiting did. I kept the letter in my scrapbook. It’s very hot, isn’t it?’ She fanned herself with her hand.

They were descending now and it was a lot warmer. The air had changed from the sharper clarity of the high plateau and there was a warm mustiness about it.

‘It would have been cooler travelling if you hadn’t wanted to eat,’ he replied with some justification. ‘And it will get a lot warmer than this. Nairobi is six thousand feet above sea level, and we’re dropping down three thousand feet.’

‘How long will it take to get to the camp?’ she asked, looking around her and spotting with surprise and pleasure a herd of gazelle grazing near the road.

‘That depends on the traffic.’

‘On what?’ She gasped, her attention re-directed towards Lukas. ‘What traffic?’ The road stretched away straight and clear before them. They were passed only by an occasionally overloaded taxi being driven at a ridiculous speed, and saw the occasional truck driving towards the capital.

‘Not cars or lorries. I was thinking of the odd elephant who didn’t want to get out of the middle of the road.’

‘You’re joking!’

Satisfaction that he had managed to dent her confidence was written in every line of his darkly tanned face. ‘I once had to back five miles down the side of an escarpment, just because an elephant decided it wanted to walk in that direction,’ he said softly. ‘But not more than a couple of hours, I suppose.’

‘Where was that?’

Lukas glanced across at her. ‘The elephant?’ She nodded. ‘Down on the Zambezi.’

Not here. Relief swept over her. ‘And were you taking photographs for a calendar there as well?’

A sudden grin transformed his face. ‘I could have done. There were a lot of very pretty girls.’ Then the smile faded. ‘I was there taking some publicity photographs for Save the Children. They were trying to raise money for polio vaccine.’

‘Oh.’ George was silenced.

Lukas frowned. ‘That surprises you?’

‘No. I hoped that was what you were doing here.’

‘I see. Well, I’m sorry. You’ll have to take it up with your father … it’s his calendar.’ He glanced at her with a slightly puzzled look. ‘It beats dogs and babies any day of the week.’

Knowing the lengths she had had to go to produce the portraits of her nieces and nephews, George didn’t doubt it, but that was not what he meant.

‘Babies and dogs are harmless,’ she countered sharply, and regretted it before the words were half out of her mouth.

‘Some babies, and some dogs,’ he said coldly, and they drove on in silence for a while until they reached a bridge. Lukas pulled over, climbed down and held out a hand to assist her.

‘Why have we stopped?’

‘I’m indulging you in a little sightseeing,’ he said, although there was something about the glint in his eyes that belied that statement. ‘You did want to do some sightseeing, didn’t you, George?’ Hesitantly she placed her hand in his and allowed him to help her down. For a moment they stood in the baking sun, and George was acutely aware of Lukas’s scrutiny, and his warm fingers holding on to her hand. Glad of the protection of her glasses, she broke away from his piercing look and glanced about her.

‘Well? What are we supposed to be looking at?’

‘That,’ he replied, pointing to another bridge a little way up the river. ‘It’s the Tsavo railway bridge.’ She nodded uncertainly, wondering what could be so special about a very ordinary steel railway bridge.

‘It’s lovely. Thank you for showing it to me.’ She turned to climb back up into the jeep. He had kept hold of her hand, tightening his grip.

‘Surely you’ve heard of the man-eaters of Tsavo?’ he asked. ‘Or didn’t you do your homework before you came on this trip?’

‘I wasn’t told until yesterday that I had to come.’

‘Told?’ He shrugged and didn’t wait for a reply. ‘They were a pair of lions who killed and ate more than a hundred men working on a railway bridge.’

‘Good gracious,’ George said with polite interest.

‘That’s the bridge. I thought you’d be interested.’

‘Oh, I am. I love those old stories. They exaggerate so wonderfully.’

He laughed. ‘You think I’m exaggerating, do you? It held up the railway for over a year. There’s an excellent book about it. A personal account written by the chief engineer. I’ll lend it to you if you think you’ll have the time to read it.’

She gave him a long measured look but the hard profile gave nothing away. ‘Thank you.’ Lukas allowed her to pull herself free and she climbed back into the jeep, still not quite sure what Lukas was driving at.

‘They dragged one engineer right out of a railway carriage,’ he said as he pulled himself into the seat alongside her. ‘But most of the victims were Indian workers asleep in their tents.’ He laid the slightest emphasis on the word tent. He said no more, but gently let out the clutch and drove on. ‘Of course lions aren’t necessarily the most dangerous animals in the national park. There are some very nasty dudus.’

‘ Dudus ?’

‘Insects, bugs, creepy crawlies. It’s the Swahili word.’

Feeling cold and clammy, George wiped away the sweat that was gathering under the unaccustomed spectacles. Aware that Lukas was regarding her discomfort with some pleasure, she made an effort to pull herself together. ‘Oh, just look at that road sign. “Beware. Elephants.” Just like ponies in the New Forest.’

Lukas turned to her impatiently, but before he could make some caustic remark his focus shifted and he slowed the jeep.

‘What is it? Why are we stopping?’

‘Quiet. There are elephants ahead. They’re probably just going to cross.’ He gently eased the jeep into reverse in case the herd decided to investigate them.

‘Don’t be silly …’ George started, sure she was being made a fool of. But suddenly she could see them. Just on the edge of the road, merging into the green-grey scrubby trees, she caught the dangerous lifted curve of ivory and the slow movement of great ears. ‘Oh, but that’s incredible.’ Then, aware of his scrutiny, said inanely, ‘You mean they cross just where there’s a sign? How clever.’ Then she abandoned her tiresome alter ego and, longing for her camera, turned to reach her bag in the back, cursing herself for not loading some film before she left.

‘Be still!’ Lukas hissed between his teeth, catching her arm and forcefully propelling her back into her seat.

‘But I just … oh, look there’s a little one …’ Then one of the largest animals turned to face them. She stepped forward, waving her great ears.

‘And quiet! This isn’t a zoo!’ George subsided immediately, not needing to be told twice that the animal was threatening them. She had to content herself with watching the herd silently cross the road, and just for the moment she was glad she wasn’t on her own despite the humiliating way that Lukas gripped her arm. Above the smell of hot oil and dust she could detect the faint scent of his cologne and she tore her eyes from the herd to regard her adversary.

The contrast with their previous meeting was startling. On that occasion he had been all smooth and manicured charm in an expensive dinner-jacket and snowy dress-shirt. His dark, almost black hair, despite its dousing with flour, had been fresh from a stylist who knew his job. Now, too long for elegance and damp with the heat, it had resumed a wayward curl. Sweat trickled down the side of his face and damp patches stained the sleeveless jacket he wore open over a short-sleeved shirt.

George wondered where he had come from. The name—Lukas—the faint trace of an accent, suggested eastern Europe.

He turned and caught her staring. For a moment he held her gaze, then abruptly he let go of her. ‘They’re almost across.’

She rubbed her arm where his fingers had bit into the flesh and blushed, feeling foolish. She jumped as one of the beasts turned and bellowed at them, raising its trunk, before turning and disappearing with the rest.

When they had gone Lukas slowly moved forwards. George peered somewhat nervously into the bush on the side of the road as they passed, but there was nothing to threaten them. The elephant had gone. She sat back against the rock-hard seat. ‘They’re so big,’ she breathed. ‘Does that happen often?’

‘I suppose so. But you were lucky to see it. And it’s an ancient elephant crossing. The sign was put there to warn humans, not instruct elephants. You’d better have your camera ready in future, just in case your luck holds.’

‘I’ll keep my fingers crossed,’ she promised. And my toes. And my eyes … She giggled and was aware of an irritated exclamation from Lukas, but she didn’t care.

‘It’s quite difficult to take photographs with your fingers crossed. But I’m sure you know that.’

The sun rose higher, and the heat increased in direct proportion.

For the first time, George wondered what exactly lay ahead of her. She had been too tired the day before to worry about it, and her confrontation with Lukas had given her no time for thought. But, as well as Lukas, out here were snakes and spiders and lizards and, apparently, lions.

The thought caused a crawling sensation at the base of her spine. She desperately wanted to turn and check that there was nothing in the jeep with them, waiting its moment to grab her by the neck and drag her away. She broke into a sweat as she considered that this was full daylight. Whatever would it be like at night?

She kept her face determinedly forward, refusing to give in to nameless fears.

‘Hold on!’ The warning came barely in time. She was half jolted from her seat as Lukas swung the jeep off the road into the bush and over the railway line. There was a group of huts, a tiny store, a flurry of chickens and a glimpse of almost naked children staring with solemn black eyes as they swept past.

‘Say goodbye to civilisation,’ Lukas said with a grin, as they bounced along the road. Road! George caught her breath as the jeep slammed into a rut and bounced out again, lifting her clear of her seat. Lukas seemed not to notice, but then he had the steering-wheel to hold on to. She clung to her seat as they bounced along, leaving clouds of red dust in their wake.

A deer flew across the road in panic, practically jumping the jeep’s bonnet, and George let out a small shriek.

‘It’s only an impala,’ Lukas mocked. ‘You get used to them. You’ll see all sorts of creatures if you keep your eyes open. Foxes, jackals …’

‘Lions?’ she asked crossly.

They hit another rut and he didn’t answer. George allowed herself a little inner feeling of satisfaction. He must be mad, thinking he could scare her with man-eating lion stories. She wasn’t scared of lions. Dudus were something else.

‘We’re nearly there.’ He slowed the jeep and George could see, in the distance, a greener patch of vegetation. ‘The camp’s on the other side of the river.’

The ‘river’ lay in a deep gorge carved out by rainy season floods, but now was nothing more than a few small trickles of water meandering between broad sand banks and only occasionally widening into pools. Lukas approached the bank with care. ‘It’s a good job for us the rains weren’t bad. Otherwise we would have to cross by dinghy.’

‘I’ve no objection to getting my feet wet in a good cause,’ George said flippantly and immediately wished she hadn’t.

‘That’s a statement you may live to regret, George.’ Lukas smiled at some private thought as they tilted down the seemingly vertical drop. George hung desperately on to the jeep’s dash until they reached the bottom, where they splashed through the small streams. Then he attacked the far bank. For a moment George thought they were not going to make it. She held her breath as the jeep seemed to hang suspended without the power to get to the top. But suddenly they were there. Wherever ‘there’ was.

‘Welcome to Kathekakai,’ Lukas said expansively, indicating the few tents with a wave of his hand.

‘Kathekakai.’ She said the word slowly, rolling it around her mouth. It had an almost magical sound, conjuring up witch doctors and ritual dances. ‘What does it mean?’

‘Place of Dread. Or Place of Killing—take your pick,’ Lukas said matter-of-factly.

George stared at him, trying to decide if she was being wound up again. But he had climbed down from the driving seat and was striding towards a large open-sided mess tent where several people were sitting. Feeling suddenly very alone, she scrambled down and ran after him, trying not to think what might be in the dry grass.

There were about half a dozen people sitting around a table, playing cards. They called out a greeting to Lukas, but their attention was caught by George. Lukas turned and caught her arm to pull her forward.

‘Ladies and gentlemen, I present George Bainbridge,’ he said with a flourish.

There was a sudden silence and a man, thick-set and middle-aged, who had his back to her, turned, stared for a moment then suddenly grinned.

‘Good God. It’s a girl.’

‘I’m relieved you know the difference, Walter,’ Lukas said drily.

‘Oh, I’ve always known the difference, dear boy.’ He came towards George and held out a hand in welcome. ‘Take no notice of Lukas. I believe he practises being horrible in front of a mirror.’

A striking brunette, who had looked up at George’s arrival, looked away again. ‘I think I’m up. Four kings and a run of hearts.’ She laid some cards out in front of her.

George felt a pulse beating in her neck. There had been a casual insolence, a dismissal of something without interest, about the girl’s attitude. She made a very special effort to focus her mind on why she was here, in this Place of Dread, fixing her thoughts on the youngsters living in cardboard boxes and how much they would love to feel this sun, how lucky they would think her. She allowed her face to relax into a smile and stepped into the shade of the tent. ‘It seems there has been a bit of a mix-up. I’m Georgette Bainbridge. Everybody calls me George.’

‘Are you related to Sir Charles?’

‘She’s his daughter, Walter.’ And George sensed rather than saw the look that passed between them. ‘Is there anything to drink? What would you like, George?’

‘Mineral water?’ she asked, and was promptly handed a glass of ice-cold water.

‘Thank you.’ She drank it down in thirsty gulps and almost felt the steam rising. ‘I’ll get my things from the jeep, if someone will show me where to put them.’