A Plantation of Vines

A PLANTATION OF VINES Wynne May

"That sort of proposal went out with the Ark," Nikki said. ''It's the sort of thing novelists used to write about. What you really want, Philip de Berg. is a slave girl, like your ancestors had. You'll make out a receipt for me and mail it to my father in Peru. Is that it?" Nikki's tone was scornful as she told him what she thought, but underneath she was preparing herself for what lay ahead. She knew suddenly, and certainly, that she wanted Philip de Berg on any terms.

CHAPTER ONE 'THIS set-up in your South African wine country always intrigues me,' Luciana Bini said, cutting into Nikki's thoughts. 'Who is this so-called Uncle Johanne of yours, anyway?' Before coming to the finishing school, high up in the Alps, Luciana had lived, with her parents, in a country house in Tuscany. Vaguely troubled, Nikki said a little irritably, 'I've already told you. My so-called Uncle Johanne happens to be a very good friend of my father. He owns La Provence, a wine estate, on the outskirts of Stellenbosch. His wife is dead and his home is carefully run and organised by his elderly sister Lorraine, who is a widow. La Provence is a wonderful old gabled homestead and has many stories.' Nikki played with the heavy gold bracelet on her arm. Luciana was beginning to annoy her, but she smiled. 'Satisfied?' 'And you were engaged to this son, Francois, who was killed in a car accident?' Luciana put down the nail polish she had been using. 'Yes, you told me this too.' Very Italian, she stood up abruptly and then folded her slim body back into the chair. To protect her own feelings Nikki opened a drawer and peered into it. Her tawny-blonde hair fell forward and obscured her face. 'Yes, I was,' she said. 'What makes you always refer to it as a—set-up, for goodness' sake?' She closed the drawer again and turned to face Luciana, who had disturbed her peace of mind and invoked the need to do something with her hands. She felt for the gold bracelet again and began turning it round and round on her slim wrist. 'Well, it is this Uncle Johanne Dauphine who has paid for this course in Switzerland, no?' Luciana spoke with calculated bluntness.

'Yes, but I told you—it was in the form of a twenty- first birthday present and also to help me to get over Francois. It was also intended to equip me for this promotion I told you about.' 'Yes, I know. You said so. Before coming here you worked in the office at the estate and travelled in your father's car, which he left behind for you to use when he went to Peru on a long business trip. You had a flat in this little town—Stellen ...?' 'Stellenbosch,' Nikki said. 'Now, when you go back you will be promoted to the position of Public Relations Officer, no?' 'Yes. The birthday gift was well thought out, from his angle. My eight months at the finishing school will more than-prepare me to fill this coveted position.' 'Coveted by—who?' Luciana laughed lightly. 'Oh ...' Nikki shrugged, 'by many.' 'I see.' Nikki tried to laugh. 'Say, what is all this about?' 'And ...' Luciana went on, 'he has a second son, this Johanne Dauphine? His name is Felix.' 'So?' Nikki could see that her room-mate was in one of her typical magisterial moods. 'You've told me, Nikki de Mist, that this son Felix reminds you of the other son, Francois. In fact, he reminds you so much of Francois, in looks that is, that you might well find yourself falling

in love with him when you get back to the estate, and that is exactly what this Johanne Dauphine is hoping for. Into the bargain, you are now going to live on the estate, for you have given up your flat in town.' 'I didn't say that. Besides, Felix doesn't stay on the estate. The estate bores him.' 'So, the estate bores him? He is restless. His father would like to pin him down. That is obvious. You know, Nikki de Mist,' Luciana's dark intense eyes went over Nikki, 'by accepting this gift of eight months at a finishing school you have allowed yourself to become so involved with Johanne Dauphine that he's going to want you for his surviving son. Perhaps he thinks you'll tame this devil and he is not going to rest until he has changed your role from Public Relations Officer on the estate to daughter-in-law on the estate. I should say he has cheated you, Nikki.' There was a sudden tautness about Nikki's shoulders, but she tried to laugh. 'Oh, be rational, Luciana. You'd be so much nicer. By the way, many firms in South Africa pay for the advanced education of their employees so that they may fill a certain position. It's as simple as that. The gift was merely a case of killing two birds with one stone.' 'No, I don't see it this way. Johanne Dauphine thinks the world of the daughter of his esteemed friend. He was delighted when you and Francois were engaged to be married and a broken man when the son was killed. In his letters to you he constantly reminds you of Felix. In this man's heart he is hoping you will now turn to Felix. About you, Nikki, there is a restlessness. I have watched this. You are ripe for trouble when you get back.'

'Isn't it about time you changed?' Nikki asked, changing the subject. 'It's nearly time for the mini-bus to pick us up. You're on duty tonight, aren't you?' Luciana stood up and stretched. 'Yes, I am. No more waiting tables at the hotel and learning about food and the serving of food after tonight.' 'No,' Nikki murmured, getting into the long olive- green skirt and demure white blouse which was the uniform of the finishing school girls as they waited tables at a hotel in Montreux. This, combined with running the finishing school which was in fact a huge villa, and acting as hostess for one week, when visitors were allowed over the school, was part of their training. In many ways, Nikki thought, she was going to miss Montreux, which with its vineyards and its blueness reminded her of the Cape. In three days eleven girls from all over the world would graduate and they would do so with the expected sophistication of girls who had just spent eight hard months at a Swiss finishing school. It had been discipline from dawn to dusk and this discipline had included a continuous course on how to achieve the looks and manners of the world's most attractive women. 'I saw Jacqueline de Berg today,' Luciana said suddenly. 'She was with her brother in Montreux. I had a few words with her. He had come over to see her graduate, instead of which he was informed that she had cleared off with that fellow and would therefore not make the grade. Apparently he had been notified, but had already left South Africa and did not receive the letter. He is furious with Jacqueline and with the finishing school in general.'

Nikki made no reply and Luciana went on, 'You have similar names—de Berg and de Mist.' 'We are both of French Huguenot descent, that's why. Jacqueline de Berg also hails from Stellenbosch in the Cape, but I'd never met her until we did so here.' 'I think her brother is trying to tame her in very much the same way as your Uncle Johanne is trying to tame Felix,' Luciana said. 'What made you come here?' Nikki asked, as she combed her hair. 'Oh, I was bored and getting nowhere,' said Luciana. 'My parents suggested it. It will help me to find myself a wealthy husband and, what is more, to keep him perpetually interested in me. Frankly, however, it is no longer important. I shall probably marry a poor man.' 'It's time to go.' Nikki put down the comb and shook her shoulderlength hair. The hotel dining-room was decorated in tavern style and an oiled and grained wooden unit went right round the room. There were tables and chairs and banquettes in the centre space and more tables and chairs on the other side of the units, set against a wall of windows. Nikki's nerves began to tighten up as she took orders and fought to think calmly. It was always a strain, even though her French was reasonably good. The man who spoke to her, however, did so in English, and momentarily disconcerted, she said, 'I beg your pardon?' His eyes were startling blue-green and very direct, and as they met hers

Nikki was conscious of an odd shock. Then she noticed Jacqueline de Berg. 'Hello,' she whispered, flustered. Her mind began to function again and she gave her attention to the person who surely must be Jacqueline de Berg's brother. 'I beg your pardon?' she said again. 'I said this tablecloth is soiled. Would you mind changing it?' While his blue-green eyes went over her Nikki's impression of him was that he held immediate physical attraction towards her, and then when this madness had passed she saw that he was probably unpredictable and reckless—to a point. He was also easily in command and was tanned from long hours obviously spent in a sundrenched climate. Jacqueline de Berg was wearing a bronze-coloured, light woollen dress and her dark hair, so much like his, hung loose to her shoulders. Almost beneath her breath she was saying, 'She's from the finishing school, Philip. This is part of our—of her—training. Keep your cool.' Nikki's troubled eyes went to the downcast lashes and she felt a twinge of pity towards the girl who was in disgrace all round. 'Just change the cloth, if you don't mind.' He looked back at Nikki. Cautiously, Nikki said, 'Certainly ... sir.' She drew the word out. She felt vaguely cheated that her last night at the hotel should be ending on this note and began to gather the cutlery and other items on the table together and then she transferred them to the low unit. 'Take these maddening flowers away,' he added, 'and their dropping petals along with them.' He glanced up at her, and Nikki thought she had never known anyone with such exciting looks.

Nervous and angry, she said, 'The flowers are fresh. They were flown in from Italy—direct from the hothouses.' She enjoyed a moment of satisfaction. 'It's only this one bloom. There must be a worm, hidden from view.' She lifted the bloom from the vase and scooped the petals from the cloth. When she had disposed of them she came back for the tablecloth which she took along to the soiled-linen room. When she returned to the table she was aware of the strained atmosphere between Jacqueline de Berg and the man who was her brother. He put himself out sufficiently to say, 'Thank you' when the fresh cloth had been draped over the table and the exquisite, if full-blown roses— flown in, as she'd said, from Italy and arranged in a formal silver urn—had been placed on it. Under different circumstances, thought Nikki, looking into Philip de Berg's sexy blue-green eyes would have been an experience. He was very handsome, lean, tallish and he was the type that would look good in skintight jeans. He made her think of a mountain leopard, but she had the feeling that his clothes would always be perfect, from casual suede shoes to dark slacks and shirts open to the waist or sleek business suits. 'The roses really are quite beautiful,' Nikki said. 'It was only the one.' 'I suppose I'd have to agree with that.' His tone was goading. 'Please don't take any notice of Philip,' said Jacqueline. The beautiful sullen face did not change, nor the blue-green eyes—so much like his. 'He's in a very had mood. He's really getting at me. He's a real drag at the moment, I'm afraid.'

Because something was expected of her, Nikki smiled faintly and said, 'You reassure me.' She left the menus with them. Philip de Berg's masculine vitality had caused her to breathe faster. Once while she was waiting on their order Jacqueline de Berg said, 'Philip, Nikki de Mist also comes from Stellenbosch. She is going back to La Provence, where she used to work before coming to Switzerland on the course.' He looked up and their eyes met, hers wide and almost grapegreen and just a trifle aslant, and his blue-green and flecked with tiny pools of amber. Nikki began to ask herself whether it was by mere accident, or by some lawful ordering of things, that she had met up with Philip de Berg before returning to the Cape—and to the Dauphines. He was unlike anyone she had ever met before. Had it been her imagination—or had there been something exploratory in his glance? Even in the so-called uniform she looked very sleek and fashionable. He noted her tawny-blonde hair, grape-green eyes and her ring- less left hand. Suddenly she thought of La Provence, which was to be her home when she got back and where she was to work as Public Relations Officer. That lovely part of the Cape where, in the summer, the sheets smelled of the sun in which they had been hung out to dry and where the vast mountains glowed rose, purple and even red at sunset. It was a staggering thought that, in a matter of days, she would be back where the beautiful old gabled homesteads, with their adjacent cellars, showed up white against the mountains and in the moonlight. That very special place in the world where, at certain times in the year, the vineyards looked green and purple and brown, with patches of red—like a brilliant brocade. Memory of Francois filled her—the sound of his voice, the feel of his hands—the hideous accident and the involvement she had felt

with Felix afterwards. And then she had left the Cape for Switzerland. She knew, now, that she had only turned to Felix in the despair she had felt. 'Will that be all?' she asked. 'Yes, thank you,' Philip de Berg answered briefly, and then he surprised her by saying, 'You're going back to work at La Provence?' He seemed to be waiting on her reply with a kind of impatience. 'Yes.' 'We buy our estate wines direct from La Provence,' he said. His speaking voice was as controlled as an actor's. 'Where are you from?' Nikki asked, forgetting for a moment that she was not here to talk but to serve and satisfy. 'From—Chardonnay.' 'Oh, I remember now. I used to put through the orders.' 'Young Dauphine was killed in a motor accident.' It was a statement. 'Yes.' She looked down at him, her eyes full of trouble. Later, she watched them moodily as they left the restaurant and then her heart gave a crazy leap when she realised that she would probably meet up with the de Bergs again—in Stellenbosch. The restaurant was slow in emptying. Quite apart from the guests at the hotel, tourists from other hotels and chalets came here to sample the superb Swiss cuisine which incorporated the best of

French, Italian and German. Nikki glanced round. Well, so far as the girls at the finishing school were concerned, it was all over. Courses on etiquette, Cordon Bleu cooking, budgeting, child care, family planning, designing and dressmaking, learning about antique furniture and the history of French furniture ... Those visits to cheese and chocolate factories and orphanages and the constant drilling on how to look beautiful and well-groomed and how to mix confidently with people. Many of the girls had parents present at the graduation. Jacqueline de Berg, of course, did not graduate. She had been expelled once she left the villa with a man. 'So your precious Uncle Johanne, who paid for everything here, couldn't make it?' Luciana said. 'And neither could your father, who is in Peru on business for three years.' 'I didn't expect them, after all.' Nikki's voice was stiff. Uncle Johanne had written to explain that although he had wanted to visit the vineyards on the shores of Lake Geneva, he could not make it, but that he would be at the airport, along with his sister Lorraine, to meet her. It was impossible, of course, for her father to have attended. 'For your sake, Nikki de Mist, I hope the Public Relations Officer episode turns out all right for you,' Luciana said, and her words did something to Nikki's breathing. 'I'm sure it will,' she said, 'and I hope, in turn, that everything turns out all right for you, Luciana. I mean that.' She felt the sudden panic of parting with this girl, who had been her close if magisterial friend for eight months. A picture of Philip de Berg came to her mind. His hair was dark, and at times she'd noticed that his profile had appeared hard. His mouth, she had the feeling,

would appear boyish in unguarded moments—and tender—and his chin was very slightly cleft. The following days were almost a blur. She seemed to have gathered so many little treasures together. Already, her collection of pressed Alpine flowers, weigela, lilac, clematis, clover, mayflower and anenomes, was fading. While she packed, Nikki thought of the marshlands in the Cape, fringed with masses of arum lilies and mauve mountains.

ON the day of their departure they were driven to Lucerne with its flying flags, narrow streets and shopping area, where no traffic was allowed, elegant restaurants, country inns and mountain taverns. After lunch, they went on to Zurich where the beautiful florists' shops were filled with roses, tulips, daisies and a host of others and where there was a shopping centre beneath the station. Nikki, looking at the flowers, thought of Philip de Berg and she wondered when he would be returning to the Cape with Jacqueline. With many assurances of letters to come and future meetings, all which sounded a little fake, the girls finally parted in the circular parking area of the Kloten International Airport, where a cold wind was blowing. In her heart, Nikki knew it was over. She would never see these beautiful, polished girls again. Montreux, where the vineyards went right down to the houses with their reddishbrown roof tiles, was already a thing Of the past. As she hurried to catch her flight she felt calm and sure of herself. In her olive-green winter suit and melon silk blouse she appeared sophisticated and beautiful and, what was more exciting, she felt sophisticated and beautiful. Now that all the hard work was over it

didn't show. Her tawny-blonde hair bounced about her shoulders and it felt soft and wonderful. The airport had all the hustle and bustle to create more excitement. Nikki caught sight of herself in a window and thought, with a secret smile, that there was an aura of mystery about her—the kind of mystery which always seems, somehow, to go along with a girl travelling alone. Several men followed her with interested eyes. And then, in the powder-room, she saw Jacqueline de Berg and their eyes met in the mirror and Nikki felt a rush of confusion, before her mind began to readjust itself. 'So—it would appear that we are booked on the same flight?' Jacqueline said. 'That's a pleasant surprise,' Nikki laughed lightly. 'I'm thankful to be going back,' said Jacqueline. 'My eight months here have been a disaster. Philip, of course, is furious with me. I was—caught for a fool, I suppose. I thought this guy loved me, but it was a mess.' 'I'm sorry,' Nikki said inadequately. 'These things happen, I guess.' Her mind was flouncing away to Philip de Berg. They left the rest-room together, trailing the fragrance of their perfume behind them. Philip de Berg's blue-green eyes flickered recognition when he saw Nikki and Jacqueline together. Jacqueline said, 'Nikki's booked on the same flight.' His long glance was calculating and had the power to make Nikki shiver slightly and to feel utterly beautiful.

'Well,' he said, still looking at her, 'the flight is running approximately thirty-five minutes late, for some reason or another.' Nikki felt the excitement of his presence and widening the greeny depths of her eyes she said, 'Oh really?' 'Yes, really. And now that we've found you again, you're going to have something to drink with us.' Suddenly Nikki had the feeling that he was very much aware of her, as aware of her as she was of him. 'Thank you,' she said, in a careful voice and with the confidence she felt from the assurance that she was looking her best. Because of the lateness of the day they had a cocktail and by the time they had finished their flight was being announced. For a few moments there seemed to be nothing but confusion but in fact everything was strictly regulated. It was strange; one minute Nikki was travelling quite alone, with an aura of mystery surrounding her, and the next she was travelling with people she knew, and then what was even more staggering was the fact that she found herself on the other side of the aisle to Philip de Berg and his sister Jacqueline. 'Good evening,' the stewardess was saying over the public address system, 'we hope you will enjoy your flight. Please fasten your seat belts and observe the "no smoking" sign. We shall be taking off in a few moments.' Nikki felt her nerves tighten. She was not such a seasoned traveller that the moments before take-off were not filled with fear for her. She fumbled with the catch of her belt and glanced sideways at Philip de Berg.

'Relax,' he said, smiling. 'It's a place, after all, where the sky is the roof—and what better place to relax?' She laughed lightly. 'It depends on whether one happens to like relaxing in a giant jet airliner. I don't.' And then controlling her fear she bit her lip and, in a few moments, the powerful thrust at the back of her seat told her that the aircraft was gathering speed and then, almost immediately, the slight lurch indicated that they were airborne. Closing her eyes, she allowed a long breath escape her lips, only dimly aware, at this moment, of the man across the aisle from her. When she opened them again, the twinkling of early lights below told her that they were leaving Switzerland, with its mountains, lakes and forests, behind and the thought frightened her, in a way. Soon she would be back with the memories of Francois flooding her and the possible advances of Felix to cope with, for hadn't she turned to him for comfort after the accident? At the finishing school it had been easy enough to put these thoughts behind her, but now that she was going back to Stellenbosch and would even have to travel on the very road on which Francois had lost his life, it was a very different matter. Apart from that, she had allowed herself to consent to the giving up of her little flat so that she could stay on the wine estate which had been his home. Philip de Berg interrupted her thoughts and she turned to look at him, her eyes on his mouth. 'I—didn't hear you. I'm sorry.' She gave him a smile. 'I said—hello,' he said softly. The word was a murmur of encouragement, almost—and something else? Was it a form of recognition that she suddenly existed for him?

'Hello.' Her eyes were a deep lustrous green as she gazed back at him. She was excited by the sudden change in him. 'Are you all right?' he asked. 'Yes. Why? Don't I look all right?' 'I wasn't sure,' he said. His eyes were on her hair now and then went back to her face and she knew she had stopped breathing for a moment. 'I like air travel,' she told him, 'but the take-off scares me.' 'It's over,' he said. 'By the way, I've decided to forgive you.' 'Really? I can't imagine why this should be necessary.' Her eyes went to his mouth and then back to his eyes. She was aware of the physical attraction he held for her and she felt alarmed by it. 'I've decided to forgive you for having gone to a useless finishing school.' 'A useless finishing school! I like that.' She lifted one elegant slim shoulder and laughed. 'We worked very hard there, believe me. I'm going back utterly exhausted, actually.' 'Are you? Now it's my turn to laugh.' As his eyes went over her again she felt that mysterious current surge through her ... it was a new sensation to her and one she had not experienced when she was with Francois - or Felix, for that matter. 'I can't allow that to pass,' she said. 'We did work, very hard. I mainly went to ... My course there,' she thought frantically, not wanting to tell him about Francois, 'will equip me for the

promotion that awaits me on my arrival at La Provence. I worked there for three months before leaving for Switzerland.' 'A girl usually goes off to a finishing school when she is desirous of getting over something,' he said. 'That's why Jacqueline went, as a matter of fact. Now, however, she's coming back home to get over something else. But tell me, wasn't this a very expensive way of procuring promotion for yourself? I happen to know that the finishing school costs money—a whole lot of money.' While he was speaking Nikki felt the stirrings of unease. 'Couldn't Dauphine have promoted you—without the course at the back of things?' 'He could have, yes, but ...' She was saved an answer as the stewardess interrupted them as she took orders for the evening meal. Philip leaned back in his seat. Nikki glanced across at him and saw him stretch lazily. Because he had removed his jacket she could see his body tightening against his silk shirt. And then, in a remote world of their own, the passengers ate dinner. The giant airliner, offering a serenity and separateness from the world, continued on its course. A little later, Nikki was aware that Jacqueline was talking in a low voice to Philip, and once she turned to see him staring at her. A pale moon began to hoist itself out of the bank of clouds. It was huge and unreal and it did dramatic things to the flight. Switzerland, with its magnificent rocky and nearly always snowcapped mountains which could be seen from practically everywhere, was now a thing of the past. Nikki lay back dreaming of her impressions of the land—big tubs of flowers on railway stations, those cable railways, funiculars and lifts ... and then she

slept fitfully and each time she stirred she was aware of Philip de Berg across the aisle from her. Once, when they happened to be awake at the same time, he said, very softly, 'How's it going, Nikki?' 'Fine.' She smiled at him, but was disconcerted to find that his attitude towards her had shifted. 'Why aren't you asleep?' he asked abruptly. 'Why aren't you?' she replied as lightly as she could. After a moment he said, 'Jacqueline isn't feeling so well.' 'Oh. I'm sorry. Can I do anything?' 'No. She's asleep right now, though.' He went on looking at her and then he said, 'From what I've heard, your involvement with La Provence seems total.' 'What do you mean?' she asked. The aircraft smelled of carpeting and leather and she felt suddenly cut off from the people and things she knew. Philip de Berg was a stranger again. 'You were engaged to the son who was killed,' he said. 'Yes, I was.' The shapes of the passengers against the seat-backs indicated that they were asleep, oblivious to what was going on in the remote world of moonlight and clouds. 'And the surviving son is there, at La Provence, waiting.' After a furious little moment, for she was aware that Jacqueline had given him the news, Nikki said, 'The surviving son is not

going to be there—waiting. He's hardly ever there and is not interested in the estate. Jacqueline has obviously been telling you about it, but she's got her lines crossed.' 'It was an expensive twenty-first birthday gift, wouldn't you say?' His eyes were cold. 'One where dividends would be expected.' 'I'm slow to catch on,' she replied. 'Precisely what is it you have on your mind?' She had been aware of the antagonism beneath his words and went on stiffly, 'And it's really my business, after all. Jacqueline hasn't wasted much time in telling you these things. She really knows very little about it—in fact, I hardly knew her. Obviously, she found out a little about me before she left the finishing school.' She was feeling disappointed in Jacqueline de Berg and showed it. 'We all used to share— certain confidences ...' 'I was wondering how it was that we'd never met in Stellenbosch,' he went on. 'Jacqueline was trying to fill me in.' 'I worked in La Provence for three months before leaving for Switzerland,' she told him. 'I had a flat in Stellenbosch and used to travel by car to the estate every day.' 'And now you're going to stay there?' He made it sound like an accusation. 'Yes.' 'So you went to Switzerland to get over something— and to prepare for something else again?' 'Yes, but what happened to me was beyond my control,' she said. 'And, as you've said, I went to the finishing school to prepare me for something else—that of promotion to Public Relations Officer on the estate.'

'And to prepare yourself for the role of mistress of La Provence, one day, because that's what he'll want. He'll want you for his surviving son. But perhaps that's only what you want yourself?' 'You seem to have very definite ideas on what you think you know,' Nikki said, while a quiet rage simmered inside her. His blue-green eyes went over her face and then he turned away and she felt herself dismissed, but a few moments later he said, 'How many girls cleared off before the eight months were up?' 'Do you want me to answer that?' Her eyes were jewel-green and very wide, even in the dim light. 'Yes.' 'Well, I'm afraid only one girl left before her time was up, and I guess you know who that girl is.' She made a vague gesture of regret at having to answer his question. 'Don't pass judgment on me. I completed the course and I look forward to my new work.' Her eyes went past him to the sleeping Jacqueline. 'Why don't you forgive her? She's been through a bad time, I should imagine.' 'I intend to,' he said.

Apart from a growing awareness of Philip de Berg the flight was uneventful. Uncle Johanne and Lorraine were at the airport to meet her and Nikki made the introductions quickly and easily before Philip de Berg and Johanne Dauphine admitted to having met before, in the line of business. And then Uncle Johanne said, 'I've got a surprise for you, Nikki. While you've been away, we've converted the old

slave quarters into an exclusive restaurant, where we choose Cape recipes. Felix is managing it.' In the hustle and bustle about them Nikki was aware of Philip de Berg's blue-green eyes regarding her. Putting her fingers up to her wind-blown tawny-blonde hair, she said, 'So Felix is back?' She felt an unease she could not define and tried not to look in his direction, and then felt impatient with herself. After all, it was none of his business. Up until a matter of hours ago she had not even known he existed. Now, however, she was very much aware of the fact that he did exist. 'Yes, and I intend to keep him there,' Johanne Dauphine answered. He was short and well-built and always reminded Nikki of the wealthy, dynamic Aristotle Onassis. Turning to Philip, he said, 'You've never seen our family tree, of course, but if you had you would know how close the line came to extinction when all but one son of a preceding generation died. We are the eighth generation of Dauphines to live at La Provence. I've already lost one son in an accident, but you know about that, and there is only one son left, Felix, to carry on the line after I'm gone. It's an alarming thought. I want to see Felix married and the father of a son as soon as possible.' 'I'm sure you do.' For some unknown reason Philip's voice was hard instead of sympathetic, Nikki thought. Before they parted Jacqueline said, 'We must meet again, Nikki. We're practically neighbours. I only learned about this just before I left finishing school—I never had the opportunity of asking you about it. I wanted to talk to you, but I left before I could.' For a few moments Nikki found herself separated from the others and alone with Philip de Berg. 'I'll be in touch with you,' he said,

and their eyes met. It was a statement. 'You'll never know whether it was your own choice in accepting the invitation to live at La Provence or whether you were talked—or tricked—into it by Johanne Dauphine. But it will always be at the back of your mind now, Nikki de Mist.' The look he gave her was more possessive than a kiss. 'Now—what?' She tried to keep her hair from blowing across her face. 'You know what I mean,' he said. 'Do I have to spell it out for you? His gift to you was an investment on his part and he will expect it to pay dividends. I plan to get in the way of this happening.' He held her eyes deliberately and she felt her imagination running away with her. 'Okay, Nikki?' Uncle Johanne pushed in and took her arm. 'Ready?' She left the airport with Johanne Dauphine and his sister Lorraine, and as they neared Stellenbosch the vines were green beneath a sapphire sky and there was sunlight on the mountains. Nikki imagined she could smell the scent of the protea scrub. He wanted to see her again! La Provence, with its white-fronted gable, crowned by a roof of black thatch and set against the backdrop of the mountains Nikki had always loved, conveyed a sense of waiting; and then, later, there was an air of unreality in settling in. The pickers were in the vineyards. The bushel baskets became full. The Dauphines had spared nothing when it came to welcoming her into their home. 'I've come to regard you as my daughter,' Uncle Johanne seemed to be repeating over and over again. In the past,

before Switzerland, he had got into the habit of saying, 'After all, Nikki, you are my future daughter-in-law.' She had been given one of the most attractive bedrooms in the house, which had its own bathroom. While restoring the Cape Dutch house Uncle Johanne had made use of the expert advice of an architect who had made a thorough study of this style and, although the house was very much as it was in days gone by, essential concessions had been made in the line of modern comfort. Space had been found for extra bathrooms, without detracting from the atmosphere of the house. And, true to tradition, Nikki found she was to sleep in a great fourposter bed, beside which was an antique cradle which was now used to hold glossy magazines. The wardrobe was three hundred years old and on top of it there were two Japanese Imari jars. With a growing sense of unease she discovered that everything possible had been done to make her comfortable and tie her to La Provence. Philip de Berg's words came to mind. 'Your involvement with La Provence seems total.' In the bathroom there was a floral shower cap, a thick terry-cloth bathrobe, cologne and dusting powder—even suntan lotion. There were satin-padded hangers in the antique wardrobe and all the drawers were lined with floral quilted fabric. Nikki's troubled eyes went to a Chinese jar which contained crystallised ginger and another with meebos. On the desk there was notepaper, pale blue writing-paper and stamps. It was nothing short of frightening. She had not expected all this, and she now felt completely caught up in the web which was La Provence. In the kloofs the shadows were gathering and then she was ready to go along to the huge drawing-room with its treasures. Uncle

Johanne and Felix were already there, waiting. Lorraine was obviously busy supervising things in the kitchen. 'So?' Felix stood up. 'Our little one has hatched from her finishing school?' Lazy brown eyes went over her long gold caftan with its gold chain belt. How very much like Francois he was, Nikki thought, and suddenly felt nothing. 'I like what I see, Nikki. Welcome back.' He raised the glass he was holding and gave her a mocking smile. 'Thank you.' She kept her voice as light as she could. 'I understand that you are not long back yourself?' 'That is so. Father finally managed to rope me in—but I can't say I'm sorry—now.' 'Oh ...' Her voice trailed off vaguely. 'What can I get you to drink, Nikki?' Uncle Johanne looked pleased and expansive, as though he had managed much more than merely getting Felix back to La Provence. 'A Martini, please, Uncle Johanne.' She felt suddenly disorientated. Had Luciana been right? she asked herself. Had Uncle Johanne cheated her—tricked her into coming to live at La Provence? Underlying her request for a Martini had been constraint. Dinner was an elegant and formal affair, calling for fine wines served in gold-rimmed balloon glasses for the enjoyment of the bouquet. 'Good food needs good wine,' Uncle Johanne laughed. Nikki's eyes strayed round the magnificent room where valuable antique plates gleamed quietly on the dresser beneath the high beamed ceiling. A crystal chandelier and beautiful reading lamps

lit up the floral arrangements. Her thoughts became restless. Felix began to irritate her with his attentions and her thoughts kept straying to Philip de Berg with his exciting good looks. Parting with him had been an anti-climax to her return to the Cape. Up until now, she had looked forward to coming to La Provence and to her promotion to Public Relations Officer. She had known that she would meet people every day, from all parts of the world, including her own country. She would talk to them about the wines of the Cape and on the range of modern drinking glasses. She would wear lovely clothes—sophisticated sandals in the long hot summers and long elegant boots in the cold, rainy Cape winters. While she had been in Switzerland she had thought about such things, but she had not counted on Felix being here to suffocate her with his lingering glances and subtle cross-talk. She had not counted on the obvious scheming on the part of Uncle Johanne which revolved around the handsome and restless wanderer Felix and herself. Using the pretext that she was tired, she asked to be excused as soon as possible. Felix was obviously disappointed. From her room Nikki watched the changing light as it re-shaped the mountains and sky and the stars which occupied the space between them. In the morning the dewdrops would be turned into rainbows as the sun touched them, and in the morning too, she would be scooped up in the affairs of Public Relations Officer. The setting would be the same and so would the staff, she imagined. Only the level of her occupation would be different—and this new terrible feeling that she did not belong here. Time heals, they had said, after Francois had lost his life. She hadn't known it would do so with such finality. François Dauphine and his kisses were no more than a memory.

CHAPTER TWO THE morning sun kissed the vineyards. A Coloured maid had drawn the curtains and put a tray next to Nikki's bedside. On the tray there was coffee in a handsome silver Thermos carafe, and rusks. After breakfast, Uncle Johanne escorted her to the converted stables and coach house which now accommodated the offices for the wine estate. The long veranda was punctuated by colossal copper brandy stills and the shadows of the oak trees made patterns on the thick white walls of the building. Hugging one corner of the great main office, which was partitioned off in places by glass, Nikki's imposing stinkwood desk waited for her. 'Well, there it is,' said Uncle Johanne. 'It's all yours, Nikki.' 'It's—new—isn't it?' she asked, troubled again. 'Yes.' He grinned at her. After she had greeted the people she had known before her departure to Switzerland he said, 'I want you to take a few days to get over things and then you can begin to think about work.' 'That's very nice,' Nikki replied, in the new careful voice she found herself using with the Dauphines now. 'Thank you.' A little later he took her over the cellars, chamber after chamber and often festooned with cobwebs, where wines matured in vats, and then he said, 'And now let me show you the new restaurant.' 'I'm very interested,' she said, because it was expected of her.

They began to walk across the lush lawn in the direction of the old slave quarters which was now an exclusive restaurant and managed by Felix Dauphine. It was the usual long and low building with very thick walls, and there were wooden shutters on the windows with their small panes of glass set in squares of ginger-coloured wood. It was a building which, until recently, had been used as a series of storerooms. Now walls had been hammered out where necessary. 'By the way,' Johanne was saying, looking so very much like the fabulous Greek shipbuilder, 'your car is ready for you, checked over and ready. Take a run into Stellenbosch later, if you like. Do some shopping. Or perhaps you'd like to relax at the poolside? Maybe a little later Felix will join you. Anyway, the fact is that I want you to take the rest of the week off. Start on Monday.' 'I'm still feeling slightly dazed, I think,' Nikki gave him a smile. 'A—break would be welcome. Thank you.' 'The restaurant is my brain-child,' Johanne went on. 'As you know, Felix is just not interested in the wine business. This, however, seems to be the answer. Here he meets people all day, from all parts of the world, as they come to tour the wine country, taste wine and eat Cape food. As you possibly know by now, people are his first love.' 'Yes, I know,' she murmured, because this was expected of her, too. The restaurant was long and narrow with heavy beams and wide windowsills and a paved floor. The curtains were appropriately patterned with bunches of grapes and leaves from the vine and so were the tablecloths. Heavy doors led to Felix's office and, on the other side, the beautifully appointed kitchen. At one end of the

restaurant there was a coffee and luncheon bar, constructed of white-painted brick. It was typical La Provence decor. At the back of the bar a tremendous white hearth gleamed with pieces of copper. Ox yokes and rope were used with great effect as decor, and from the windows there were magnificent views of the vineyards. All the light fittings were converted oil lamps and outside, the paved veranda was shaded by vines crawling on a pergola and there were more huge copper brandy stills. Nikki saw Felix's eyes going over her carefully. She had known that she was looking glamorous in a henna- coloured skirt and an apricot taffeta blouse with delicate bronze stripes. The colours contrasted excitingly with her tawny-blonde hair. Nevertheless, she resented the look which he gave her. 'Have some coffee with me, Nikki,' he said. 'I'm sure you must be busy,' she murmured, while memories of how she had allowed him to kiss her before she had gone to Switzerland flooded her. She had known all the time that she had allowed this out of the desperation that she would never again see Francois and because, physically, there had been a resemblance between the two men. 'I'm not busy right now,' he answered. 'We're expecting a busload of people for wine tasting and then lunch. I'm free right now.' 'That's a good idea,' Johanne cut in, 'you two young people have some coffee together. I'm going back to the office. I'll see you later.' And so Nikki found herself sitting on a high stool next to Felix, drinking coffee.

'I never realised how madly beautiful you are.' He was always one to get to work quickly. . 'Put it down to a finishing school veneer,' she tried to laugh lightly. When they finished their coffee she said, 'And now, Felix, I must go.' 'Why must you go?' he asked. 'So soon? Stay and talk to me, Nikki.' 'Well, I haven't unpacked, for one thing,' she said, 'and besides, I'm driving in to Stellenbosch. I have some shopping to do.' 'I can't tell you how pleased I was at the news that you'd given up your flat in Stellenbosch,' he said, 'and that you would be living at La Provence.' Nikki laughed again. 'Just make a note of the fact that I'm going to be very busy.' She slid from the stool. Before she drove out to Stellenbosch she unpacked in her room, which had the sun streaming across it. The fourposter had been made up now and there were fresh hydrangeas in a Delft vase on the great carved kist. She realised that she was thankful to be getting away —even for a short while. Was it always going to be like this? Was she going to be hemmed in and stifled by the Dauphines, just because she had been engaged to Francois and was working here and had had the bad sense to move in with them? Too late, she realised that she had been a fool in accepting the finishing school course as a gift and agreeing to the suggestion that she should live at La Provence when she got back from Switzerland. That had been her biggest mistake—she knew that now. Giving up her flat! If she hadn't done that, she thought, a little wildly, she would have been able to take

up her new position as Public Relations Officer and drive home to the sanctuary of her own flat in the evening—thus breaking what now amounted to 'total involvement' with the Dauphines. She didn't want to be involved. Not now that she had met Philip de Berg, and would possibly meet him again if she kept up a friendship with Jacqueline. Stellenbosch was still the same with its old buildings, oak-lined streets, streams, water courses and mountains. The main street, more like an avenue, was wide and oak- lined and many of the houses opened out on to the street, but behind the houses there were beautiful old gardens with fig trees, geraniums, flowerpots containing orange lilies and amaryllis, loquat trees, pomegranates, Cape lemons, ferns and hydrangeas. Nikki parked the car and got out. It was wonderful to be back. Her eyes took in everything. Architecture was varied—Cape Dutch, Georgian and Victorian and many old buildings had been left in peace—a row of houses with pitched roofs and early nineteenth century gables, while on the opposite side, double-storeyed houses with flat tops and straight cornices stood white and dazzling in the sun. She had just had the ends of her hair trimmed and was swinging along the pavement when somebody took hold of her arm and, surprised, she turned to look into the sexy blue-green eyes of Philip de Berg. Those strange blue-green eyes which went so well with the kind of richly tanned skin he had. Surely, since he was of French Huguenot descent, they should have been brown—but then she herself happened to be blonde with green eyes. 'Oh,' she said, 'hello.'

His eyes never let go of hers. 'So they allowed you out,' he said, 'on your own. My, my!' His eyes were relentless. Cautiously, she said, 'I wouldn't say that. I'm allowed to come and go—just as I like.' She saw the look of disbelief in his eyes as they mocked her and then with some irritation she went on, 'I'm being given a few days in which to settle down, actually.' 'And are you? Settling down?' He seemed to be waiting irritably on her reply. 'Yes, I think so, but give me time.' She laughed lightly and lifted her shoulders. 'How's Jacqueline?' 'She's here with me, actually. She's just gone into that pharmacy, as a matter of fact. We've already been to an auction sale. That's Jacqueline all over. She gets an idea and away we go. She wants her room redecorated in the kind of antiques she likes—if she has to have antiques, she says. Well, she doesn't have to—but I've allowed things to slide. The sooner she gets settled, the better.' 'Did you manage to find anything?' she asked. 'Yes, we did.' She was aware of a change in those eyes. 'You've been on my mind,' he said, changing the subject, and the remark seemed to betray his impatience with her. 'Oh?' She kept the sound of the little word vague. 'I kept wondering how it was at La Provence.' 'Well, they've gone to no end of trouble to make me comfortable— even to insisting that I have a few days in which to get over the flight home.'

'I see.' He turned abruptly as Jacqueline came up to them. 'I wondered who you were talking to,' Jacqueline said. 'Hello, Nikki. You're looking very glamorous.' 'Thank you,' Nikki answered lightly, and tilted her head forward. 'We've been buying antiques. I wanted French antiques and believe it or not, we found something I liked.' 'Come and have a look,' said Philip. 'The rooms are only a door away.' 'I'd love to,' Nikki replied. As they walked to the auction rooms Jacqueline was saying, 'I just felt that, if I'm to live at home again, I have to—well, edit and subtract and—you know, simplify. In other words, I must have a change of scene. That's all it amounts to.' 'At the risk of repeating myself,' Philip said, 'you're always wanting a change of scene.' Suddenly he took hold of Nikki's arm. 'This way.' She found herself thrilling to the touch of his fingers on her skin. The writing table which Jacqueline had found for herself was surprisingly small but lavish because of the exquisite floral marquetry set off by delicate ormolu. She had also chosen a superb chair. 'Wasn't I lucky? Such finds, in Stellenbosch. Anyway, this is to start off with. You know, Nikki, I grew up with traditional Capestyle furniture—I guess you did too— and I'm sick of it. Glass, chrome and perspex are more in my line but they wouldn't go in Chardonnay and I must go along accordingly. So I decided on

something very French, which is the way Z think it should be. After all, we are French, in a sense.' 'They're beautiful,' said Nikki, trailing a beautifully manicured fingernail across the table. When they were back on the pavement Philip said, 'Have dinner with me tonight, Nikki. I was going to ring you, anyway.' 'I—can't,' she said, and knew that she had flushed a little. 'I'm sorry, but not tonight.' 'Why not tonight?' His voice sounded hard. He's goading me, she thought. He's putting me on, testing me; but she had to say it. 'Well, because they'll be hurt—you know, so soon. I mean, I've just got back.' 'You don't belong to them, do you?' he said in a hard, careless voice. 'Nevertheless, explain to them that you'll be dining out.' 'I have no special need to explain myself to them,' her voice was frigid. 'I'm not answerable to them for my movements, but it's only polite in this case to have dinner with them tonight.' 'In that case we'll meet after dinner. It's as simple as that. I'll phone you.' The shadows had changed on the old white gables by the time she got back to La Provence. The crevices in the mountains of Stellenbosch—Helderberg, Stellenboschberg, Motmaskop and Simonsberg—were gathering mist.

Felix was in the central hall when she went inside. Had he heard her car, she wondered, as she swept past the house in the direction of the garages? 'How did the shopping go?' he asked. 'Fine. I browsed around generally. Bought a few things.' 'But you have no parcels,' he said, mockingly. 'I—I must have left them in the car,' she said, and laughed. 'Come and have a drink with me,' he said. 'Father has gone out and Lorraine, as usual, is busy supervising things.' 'I—I'd like to put my bag away,' she said. 'I'll wait.' 'All right.' Her voice was stiff and she knew it. There was the chink of glasses when she got back to the drawingroom. Felix was pouring himself a drink and he turned. 'What made you take so long in Stellenbosch?' he asked. 'I was shopping.' 'So you told me, but you had no parcels. What will you drink?' 'Just a sherry, please.' 'The shops closed at five.' He glanced at his watch and lifted his dark brown eyes to hers.

'Yes, I know they close at five.' She gave him a frankly annoyed look. 'Where did you go—where else, I mean?' 'I browsed around—I talked to people I met.' 'Who?' 'Friends.' Nikki drew the word out, to show him that she did have friends other than the Dauphines, and that she was a free agent. She watched him moodily as he poured her sherry and then he passed it to her and she was careful not to touch his fingers as she took it from him. 'How about doing something together tonight, Nikki?' 'I'm afraid I'm doing something,' she told him, and took a tiny sip of her sherry. 'With anybody special?' She took the bull by the horns. 'Philip de Berg—I met him in Switzerland. He owns Chardonnay. I believe you might have met him, on business, but I hadn't.' 'I have met him, as it so happens. I've often had a bar lunch there— in the Cellar. I used to drive out there.' 'With one of your many girl-friends?' She added this in a light voice just to show him that she knew all about him. 'Talking about de Berg, that's one way of hanging on to an ancestral home, I suppose, by converting it into a hotel. It's well

known as the haunt of the rich. They don't grow grapes to speak of any more. Something about the soil.' 'Oh,' she said, and sipped at her sherry again. 'I see.' Nikki dined with the Dauphines at a table gleaming with cutlery and a silver candelabrum. In the long rainy months, she thought, they would dine in the soft light coming from candles and the flicker of log fires. Would she still be here? She glanced at Uncle Johanne across the table. Before the accident which had claimed Francis he had been a short dynamic man and then he had been reduced to a pathetic figure. Once again, however, he was looking more like himself—in command ... the leader... After dinner Nikki said carefully, 'I hope you don't mind, but I'm going to visit the de Bergs at Chardonnay.' There was a small silence and then Johanne said, 'You must feel free to do as you wish, of course. If you were friendly with this girl in Switzerland you will want to see her from time to time.' The expression on his face reminded her that he was indeed the Johanne Dauphine who had always entered a room with all the drama of a dynamic personality. Gone now was the man who had been left shattered after the loss of a favourite son. Uncle Johanne was a fighter. She was in her room when Philip phoned. 'I'll be there in twenty minutes,' he told her. 'You're very sure of yourself,' she answered, and then in a bantering tone, 'I might not be allowed out.' 'I'll pick you up, nevertheless,' he replied shortly. 'You see, I always achieve what I want ... and I want to see you.'

'Why?' 'It could become a habit with me, Nikki, so you'd better prepare yourself.' He rang off and for a moment she stood holding the receiver, and then she put it down and bit her lip. He was shown into the drawing-room when he arrived. Uncle Johanne said abruptly, 'Didn't your sister come along?' 'I came alone,' Philip's voice was just as abrupt. 'This is my son Felix,' said Johanne. 'We've already met,' Philip said, not looking at Felix for a moment, and then, to Felix, 'Right?' For a few moments there was the fumbling talk about the wine estate and the turn of events which knocked Chardonnay out from growing grapes on a large scale. Then, looking at Nikki, Philip said, 'Well? Ready? Shall we go?' 'A wind seems to have got up,' she said. 'Do you think I need this jacket?' 'It's fresh outside.' His eyes met hers. 'Bring it along. You'll be late getting back.' In the car Nikki slumped back and sighed. The mountain peaks were black and precipitous against the star- gleaming sky. She knew by his silence that Philip was giving her time to say something about her involvement with the Dauphines—father and son.

When she said nothing, he said, 'These things backfire, Nikki de Mist.' 'You sound like my room-mate at the finishing school,' she replied, a little stiffly. 'She was always—always butting in on my affairs and had a habit, which I very much resented, of calling me by my full name.' She turned her head to look at him in the darkness. 'What do you mean, these things backfire?' 'You decide what I mean. What did you expect when you accepted a course at a plush Swiss finishing school and accommodation at La Provence when you got back?' 'In its way,' she replied, 'it was nothing but a form of advertising on his part, just as, in its own way, wine tasting is a form of advertising.' 'How do you make that one out?' His voice was hard. 'Well, surely that's obvious? The course equipped me to step into the position of Public Relations Officer.' He sounded both annoyed and amused. 'You think so?' 'Yes, of course I think so.' 'It has also helped you to fit into the position of being under Dauphine's roof and under an obligation to him, unless of course, as I've said before, that's what you had in mind? I'm still trying to work that one out, as a matter of fact.' Now real annoyance came into his voice. 'Well, let me know when you've reached a decision,' she couldn't help replying. Her mind began to spin with more hasty words. 'I'm trying to make out what all this is about.' Before he could answer

she went on, 'I'm not given to rudeness, but this is really none of your business, is it?' 'I'm making it my business, Nikki. It's as simple as that. But Johanne Dauphine wants you for his surviving son, that's plain. Perhaps, however, this makes sense to you? Perhaps it's only what you want, after all.' 'You're very cruel, you know,' she said. 'I was engaged to Francois for a matter of weeks. I was shattered. It had been a whirlwind affair. Although Uncle Johanne and my father have been friends for years I hadn't come in contact with Francois or Felix—they were always away at boarding school, varsity ... I'd been working in the office at La Provence for only three months and then he was killed. I was about to turn twenty-one. My father had already gone to Peru. I felt quite alone, lost really. Uncle Johanne suggested the finishing school as a birthday gift, but he also stressed that he was cunning. He laughed about it, I suppose to put me at ease about accepting it. He said that it was to equip me for the position of P.R.O. He has had one person after another who didn't please him—or, so far as they're concerned, he didn't please them, I suppose.' 'It's no good talking about the past,' he said brutally. 'I'm talking about now, Nikki, and you still haven't answered my question.' 'Which question?' 'I said—perhaps it's only what you want, after all?' 'I don't intend to answer that,' she answered in a furious little voice. 'It's ridiculous.' They were travelling along an oak-lined private road now, to the romantic main house which had once been the focal point of a

bustling vineyard. Even in the glimmering night light the gable details gave it, and the surrounding buildings, a delicacy which was further enhanced by the long stoep, the huge small-paned windows and heavy doors and fanlights. The road ended in a circular drive where sleek cars gleamed with dew and the lights spilling out from the buildings. 'This is it,' said Philip, parking the car. He switched off the engine and turned to look at her. For a moment neither of them moved and then Nikki said, 'I don't have to go inside to see that it's very beautiful and I'm not going inside. Take me back, if you don't mind. I owe some loyalty to the Dauphines, and I'm not sure I want to be a kind of scapegoat while you use me to settle some personal issue I know nothing about with them. I could sense that there is something.' 'You are going inside,' he told her, 'make no mistake about that. I'm not taking you back until I'm ready for it. I want you to see Chardonnay. Like most old Cape houses, including La Provence, it's lacquered with magic. It also awaits a beautiful mistress, by the way.'

CHAPTER THREE PHILIP led the way to the main lounge where several people sat around talking. 'Sit over here,' he spoke with an authority which Nikki now found herself resenting. 'I'll ring for coffee.' 'I'd like to get back as soon as possible,' she told him, but he ignored her remark. She sat down on one of the easy chairs which were strikingly upholstered in floral linen in shades of emerald- green, brown, yellow and burnt-orange, and while he had gone to arrange about coffee she allowed her eyes to flicker round the huge room where at least twenty heavy beams stretched away overhead and which glowed from the light coming from two magnificent bronze chandeliers. Persian rugs covered the shining paved floor and huge display cabinets, spotlighted from within, housed blue and white Delft china. The hotel had the atmosphere of a gracious stately home which, of course, it was. When he spoke Nikki was standing before one of the many paintings where his ancestors, no doubt, guarded the past from behind ornate gold frames. 'Chardonnay is a house that prides itself on the past,' said Philip, coming to stand behind her, 'and guards that past with care.' She could feel his light breath on the back of her neck. 'I can see that.' Her voice was stiff. 'Some of them,' her eyes did not leave the painting, 'look like you. All of them have those bluegreen eyes. I'm sure most French Huguenots had brown eyes, don't you think?' Philip laughed. 'We must be throwbacks. You have green eyes— the colour of grapes—and you are of French Huguenot descent.

Like you with La Provence, their involvement with Chardonnay is total, even though they are now behind gold frames.' She made no reply but turned away and went back to her chair. He took the chair opposite hers and a waiter came with their coffee, which he placed on a small table before Nikki. While she poured Philip's eyes never let go of her and, when she looked up, he said, 'You're on my mind most of the time.' 'Really? Why is that?' He moved his shoulders. 'Oh, for various reasons.' 'One of them being my involvement, as you will keep calling it, with La Provence, and people you obviously dislike.' Nikki glanced down at her cup. 'Didn't it make you sad to have to turn your magnificent home into a hotel? Now that the soil makes it impossible to grow grapes, on a large scale.' 'We produce on a very small scale—mostly for ourselves. But to answer your question, no. It would have been virtually impossible to keep on the estate otherwise. I've grown accustomed to this way of life and I even derive a certain pleasure from providing pleasure for others visiting Chardonnay. Like my long-departed ancestors, I am also completely and totally involved here.' 'This—being involved—seems to be quite a thing with you,' she said, looking at him coolly above the rim of her cup. 'It's something that has filled most of my waking hours recently.' His eyes went over her. 'You have chic and you have sophistication. You'll make a perfect Public Relations Officer. Johanne Dauphine had an eye to business all round. You'll be good for La Provence.'

They exchanged a long look. 'Thank you,' she said. 'Going to the finishing school helped me to gain an inner balance.' 'And didn't you have that—inner balance—before?' 'No, I don't think so. I went around in a kind of blissful daze, most of the time, thinking mainly of myself.' 'And now? What do you think of now?' As Nikki met his eyes a mysterious current surged through her. 'I still think of myself,' she said, 'but in a different way.' To one side of the huge room there were thick archways to the dining-room which she could see was decorated with carved antique furniture and in colours of burgundy and green. Age was on the side of Chardonnay—everything was mellow and beautiful. The present owner was handsome and exciting. He cut into her thoughts. 'So? You like my home, what you've seen of it, so far?' 'Yes. It's—well, magnificent.' 'In a shabby kind of way?' He sounded amused. 'In a lived-in kind of way.' He excited her with his tan and his blue-green eyes. Nikki was aware, against her will, of every casual movement on his part, with every nerve of her own—and yet she hardly knew him. It was ridiculous really, but she knew, now, that she had never felt this way about Francois Dauphine.

'Now that you've finished your coffee I'll show you around,' Philip said, 'and then we'll have a nightcap in the pub and I'll take you back to your prison.' 'It's not a prison,' she said. 'No? Anyway, I'll take you on a full tour next time I bring you here.' 'If I come,' she could not resist saying. 'When you come.' His eyes held hers and she fought the heady feeling she always experienced when she met his eyes. I don't want to be hurt, she thought. 'When you come, Nikki de Mist,' he repeated and, standing up, he reached for her fingers and drew her up beside him. He took her to the library, with its yellow-wood floor, beamed ceiling and vast fireplace. Here again there were blue and white plates and vases. Nikki stood awkwardly beside him on the deep crimson carpet which had off- white fringing. 'This is a good spot in winter,' Philip told her. 'I refuse to think about winter right now,' she replied lightly, to hide the way she was feeling. He was standing close to her now. 'You refuse to think, let's face it. You're like Jacqueline.' 'Oh? You hardly know me. Where is Jacqueline, by the way?' 'Out as usual,' he told her. 'I had the feeling you might be good for her.'

'You had the feeling?' In the stillness, she could hear his breathing. 'I'm not so sure now that I've got to know you better.' 'You hardly know me,' she said. 'I know you well enough to know that you seem to have a knack of muddling your life.' They left the library and he said, 'Come and have a look at my private lounge. I think you'll like it.' A little later, when they were in the room with its Persian rugs, panelled walls and fireplace, deep chairs and sofas, she said, 'Oh, I do. It's charming.' There were the typically tall, gable-topped armoires with swollen bases and brass hinges wrought, so long, long ago, by some Malay craftsman, brass samovars and antique furniture. 'And now are you ready for that drink?' 'Yes,' she said, and thrilled to his touch as he took her arm. The pub was all copper warming pans, jelly moulds and more blue and white china in cabinets with concealed lighting. The noise of talk and laughter, pouring liquid and clattering ice cubes caused instant excitement. Nikki went straight to a beautiful cat, with short, short legs and long fur, which was stretched out on one end of the counter. Although this attractive ladies' bar was crowded she felt alone with Philip—and the cat. Next to him, on a high stool, she said, 'In which part are you and Jacqueline?'

'Here, in the main house,' he told her. 'Residents aren't accommodated here—they only use some of the reception rooms. Extensive slave quarters were turned into guest suites—motelstyle, you could say. Other rooms were built to suit the style.' Nikki nodded. 'I knew about Chardonnay, of course, but I'd never been here. I had also noticed the transactions in the ledgers which involved your orders, but it didn't connect.' 'Well, it connects now, and that's the main thing. I should have recognised you in Switzerland had you visited here before, make no mistake about that.' His eyes went to her slim, ringless fingers as they stroked the cat which rose suddenly and stretched itself. And then it yawned in Nikki's face, and she laughed. 'It was fortunate that you had slave quarters to convert,' she said a moment later, her fingers still playing in the fur of the cat. 'We seem to have had more than our share, so far as slaves were concerned, in the past—judging by the slave quarters. If need should arise, there's another building which could be converted.' 'Did it involve a lot of work?' In the dim light coming from converted oil lamps their eyes met and held and Nikki made a point of tracing a finger around the cat's eye. 'Everything was there, waiting. Those thick walls, which people seem to get so excited about for some unknown reason, paved floors ... as for the rest, we added big windows with the usual louvred shutters, true to the tradition. Some walls had to be torn down, others put up. We added a long, paved veranda with a pergola and white supporting columns, which trail colourful bougainvillea and blue and white plaques bearing room numbers outside each door—and there you have it. An old slave bell stands

nearby.' He broke off. 'I had to do it,' he said, 'or give everything up.' They went out to Philip's car and he opened the door for her and then, when he slid into the seat beside her, Nikki was aware of the rising intensity of his presence and wondered whether he was as aware of her as she was of him. She couldn't believe, somehow, that it was all one-sided. 'We'll save the rest for next time,' he said, and started the car and reversed out into the open. Beneath the oak trees other vehicles glistened with dew and reminded Nikki of scattered confetti. He had little to say to her on the way back to La Provence and then, when they arrived, he walked to the huge door with her. From the outside, the house was very much like the main house at Chardonnay. 'Did they allow you a key?' There was sarcasm in Philip's voice. 'Yes, they did,' she tried to match the tone of her voice with his. 'I am, after all, quite free to come and go as I wish.' 'That's what you think,' he said, 'but it would appear that they're still up, waiting for you. This will be a pattern with them—but it's up to you, of course. Maybe you like it that way. Goodnight, Nikki.' Felix, was waiting. She saw him through the huge double doors which led from the vast hall to the drawing- room. He stood up and came to meet her, his dark eyes going over her. 'So? You've finally made it?' He took her hand and before she could stop him, he lifted her fingers to his mouth and kissed them, his eyes on her face. She took them away.

'I admit I've been jealous, Nikki.' 'I can't think why this should be, Felix.' He was relaxed and easy, the way she had known him to be with women. His tone was completely neutral, but his eyes gave him away. He was attracted to her and he was not going to rest until he'd had his way with her, that was obvious. Nikki found herself remembering, with shame and regret, how she had allowed herself to be comforted by him after François had died. She had, at that time, closed her eyes and tried to believe that the man who was kissing her was Francois—back again ... 'Let me pour you a drink,' he was saying. 'I've already had a drink,' she replied, wanting to make her escape. 'You've explained a lot,' he said, 'just by refusing, but, so far as women are concerned, Nikki, I'm a fighter. I don't intend just to sit back and watch de Berg.' He raised his glass in a mocking toast. 'I'm feeling too tired for nonsense,' she said. 'Goodnight, Felix.'

The next few days were lavish with sun. The vast mountains were haunting, somehow, in their beauty. Nikki swam in the pool and her body regained the golden tan she had lost while she was in Switzerland. She shopped in Stellenbosch and looked up one or two old friends. To take her mind off Philip de Berg she went to watch and converse with the Coloured women who worked on the estate and she admired their babies as they lay on blankets beside them. The women worked at long tables, packing grapes in single layers to avoid crushing—Hanepoort, Barlinka, Waltham Cross.

Fascinated, she gazed at the conveyor belt where the grapes were carried along to the cellars for distilling. The grapes had been meticulously selected to provide the good vintages which La Provence was famous for. The air in the barn was drowsy and sticky but in the gloomy cellars there would be the smell of leaves and soil and wood. Outside the big barn, where their mothers worked, the bigger children played, satisfied and sticky from grapes. Once Uncle Johanne took her through the cellars among the vats and he kept up a running commentary. She felt the coolness of the wine-tasting room and listened and watched as prospective big buyers and tourists performed the tasting ritual. And she thought of Philip de Berg. Why hadn't he been in touch with her? The beauty of La Provence enchanted her—but it was of Chardonnay that she was thinking. She was more than ready to start work and then, when she did so, it was pouring with unseasonable rain. 'I'm sure I don't have to tell you that wine has a soul, Nikki,' Uncle Johanne said. 'If you don't treat it properly it will remain dead— and that goes for our customers as well. I know that I can trust you to handle our visitors with care and tact. Remember, girlie, the prime aim of tasting is to find a wine that is enjoyable, and so our tasters must be left in peace—no butting in by late arrivals and so on, whether they happen to be tasting with a view to buying on a large scale, or for domestic use only. It's a game that wine-lovers love to play—but honesty on all sides is essential. The insincere taster must be pampered along with the sincere. Maybe, given time, he will discover the right attitude of mind. The annual turnover depends a lot on the decisions of even one or two people.'

'I'll remember, Uncle Johanne,' Nikki laughed lightly. At one time she would have patted his cheek in fun— but not now that she had met Philip de Berg. Well, I'm ready, she thought. Ready to go. With the rain came the cold, reminding one of the Cape winters to come. Wind drove the clouds against the mountain peaks and Nikki's long legs were booted almost to the knee. She had chosen to wear a black skirt with a scarlet blouse which had a high collar. She wore a long string of pearls and the outfit was completed by a black cape. Anybody but Nikki might have appeared overdone, but she succeeded in looking very much the graduate of a Swiss finishing school who had now stepped into a swish position on a beautiful wine estate. In fact, when Felix had seen her he'd said, 'The chic Public Relations Officer, ex-graduate.' Outside, the rain poured down harder. Inside, the wine- tasting glasses had been polished until they gleamed. Uncle Johanne arrived with some people and they stood around talking and using such words as weighty, bone dry, sweet, medium dry, body, elegant, robust and crisp—words which all went to describe wine. Then they went into the gloom of the wine-tasting room and Nikki closed the double doors which led to it. There was the clink, clink of bottles and the chink of glasses. They had been gone for about thirty minutes when Philip de Berg arrived with a party of five. Nikki tried to keep her eyes from widening like the eyes of a schoolgirl, and then they went to a girl who was wearing a black velvet pant-suit with heavy gold chains at the neckline. Her hair was almost silver. At that moment, Johanne Dauphine came out of the tasting room alone and showed surprise at seeing Philip. 'Well,' he said, and just

for a moment he looked annoyed, 'this is an honour we haven't had from you before. What can I do for you?' Nikki was quick to notice how Uncle Johanne's dark eyes changed when he glanced at the silver-haired girl. The nod he gave her was barely noticeable. The girl blinked twice and looked away. 'There has to be a first time in everything,' Philip said. 'Well,' said Johanne, and glanced in Nikki's direction, 'we're expecting a busload of people shortly, but I guess there'll be time for you to take your party into the tasting room first. The others in there at the moment are just about ready to come through.' Nikki was reasonably sure that the people Philip was with were hotel guests, desirous of visiting a wine estate in the hours set down in the brochures—but she wasn't sure about the girl. 'Nikki will attend to you,' said Johanne, and left the building. Looking at Philip Nikki said, 'They shouldn't be long,' and then there was the murmur of voices and the doors opened. This was followed by some confusion as the wine-tasters wanted to monopolise Nikki and she, in turn, wanted to settle Philip and his party. In a voice calculated to please the senses she said, 'Please excuse me for just one moment while I get our next party organised. Will you come this way, please?' Her eyes swept past Philip to the rest of the party. Before she led them towards the shallow paved steps to the gloomy and heavily-beamed tasting room with its diempie chairs, settles and old prints on the walls, she had noticed the amusement in his blue-green eyes. There were bottles on a rack, glasses on an antique oval table and more on a bar counter.

'You'll find everything here,' she said, avoiding Philip's eyes. 'Take your time. The bus isn't due in yet.' Philip said, as she prepared to go up the steps. 'Nikki, I'd like you to meet Amber Graham. Nikki de Mist.' 'So they've still got that funny old organ in here,' Amber drawled. Deciding that she did not know what to make of Amber Graham, Nikki said, 'It's here because, like that old filter cooler and armoire, over there, it has age on its side. Not like us women ...' she laughed a careful little laugh. 'We don't have that on our side, I'm afraid. But in fact, everything you see in here goes to make up the atmosphere of this room and has an historical interest with regard to the wine estate.' Opening her bag, Amber said, 'I know. I've been here before.' She looked up. 'Do you mind if I smoke? I could do with one.' 'I'm sorry—not in here,' said Nikki. 'Oh? How come?' The other girl kept her bag open. 'Well,' Nikki discovered that she was having to cope with her first difficult visitor, 'for the simple reason that no serious taster would smoke at a tasting or, for that matter, actually smoke before a tasting—any more than you would eat curry beforehand.' 'I'm not a serious taster,' Amber Graham answered, 'but still, I see what you mean. It's all taken so seriously.' Nikki saw that she was nervous. 'It is serious,' she answered on a light tone, in an endeavour to clear the atmosphere. 'Wine-tasting is a serious business and the

annual turnover of an estate depends on it, to a great extent. Besides,' she smiled, 'what better way of learning about wine?' She went back to the people who were waiting for her and who were obviously going to place orders. They were also interested in the glasses which bore the emblem of the estate, and books on how to read a wine label and wine glasses through the ages. She realised that she was upset, and the knowledge upset her even more. By the time Philip and his party came through Nikki had just about completed her part with the previous visitors. A quick glance at her tiny watch told her that the bus would be arriving at any moment. Her first day was proving to be a busy one—and a difficult one, into the bargain. While she coped with orders and questions Philip and Amber Graham examined the glasses which were for sale at one end of the room, next to the doors. Outside, the bus was gliding to a standstill beneath the rain-soaked oaks. Tasting took place in the mornings and visitors arrived as they pleased and were either prepared to wait or, if they happened to be casual tasters and were in a hurry, left. The visitors arriving by bus, however, were here by appointment. Philip's guests, who had in fact placed good orders, were leaving, but he came over to where Nikki was standing, next to her desk. 'We're having lunch at the restaurant,' he told her. 'I'd like you to join us.' 'You must be joking,' she said. 'I can't get away from here just when I like. I'll have to sort out my lunch hour and even then, it will only be a quick sandwich and some coffee at the lunch bar in the restaurant.'

Outside, the sky showed no signs of clearing. A current of cold air, coming in the huge doors which led to the long stoep with its copper brandy stills, caught Nikki's hair and ruffled it damply about her shoulders. 'So they waited up the other night?' His eyes went over her face and his voice betrayed his impatience with her. 'Tut, tut, Nikki.' 'They didn't,' she lied. 'Felix was having a nightcap.' 'Was he now? I'll ring you directly I get back to Chardonnay,' he told her, just as the confusion of visitors at the big, open doors commenced. The huge room, partitioned off with glass in places to accommodate office workers, suddenly smelled of damp clothing, perfume and stale cigarette smoke. 'I don't have time right now,' she said, 'to talk.' She watched him leave, hurrying to catch up with his guests—with Amber Graham—as they made their way across soggy lawns towards the restaurant which, because of the rain, seemed to be engulfed in a fine mist. Eventually she was free to go along to the restaurant. Philip and company were still there. Obviously they had taken time over a leisurely lunch and, from her stool at the luncheon bar, Nikki saw Felix coming out of his office, looking dashing in a black pullover and slacks. He wore a burgundy and green cravat with a white silk shirt. He came to sit next to her. 'We have guests, I see, from Chardonnay.' Nikki saw his expression change. 'What's that chick doing here?' he asked, almost under his breath.

'What chick?' Nikki pretended ignorance, although she guessed him to mean Amber Graham. 'Amber Graham.' 'She came along with the party—to taste.' 'Did she? What a nerve! Anyway ... let's talk about us, Nikki.' He reached for her fingers. 'What is there to talk about?' she asked, wriggling her fingers loose. 'If we have to search for a reason I'd say, quite frankly, that I'm more aware of you than I ever have been and you keep avoiding me. Why? Is it because of de Berg? You know, Nikki, before you were just an inexperienced child to me, ready to be awakened, but I wasn't going to be the one to do it because you'd been engaged to my brother, and you were in mourning for him. I'm not that kind of a swine, believe it or not. But now all that's in the past.' 'What makes you think you could have awakened me?' she asked, and took her fingers away,, 'And what makes you think that I might just not still be inexperienced?' She lifted her sandwich. 'How is it you're not eating at the house?' he asked. 'I've arranged with Lorraine that I'm to lunch here every day.' 'And why is that?' 'I won't feel so tied, one way and another.' 'Tied to whom? You know, Nikki, I knew from the start that Father had something up his sleeve—I knew what his little trick

amounted to in getting me interested enough to run this shambles for him and I'll admit that, being at a loose end and feeling rather played-out, I was interested. But what I didn't bank on was the fact that it was going to work. Do you begin to see what I mean?' 'No,' she pretended ignorance, 'I don't. Anyway, I wasn't aware that trickery entered into things. Your father merely wanted to see you back on the estate.' She felt that she had to defend Uncle Johanne, even though she was beginning to have her own doubts about him. Felix was called to his phone and he slid from his stool, and Nikki was left to listen to the sound of conversation and laughter which came from Philip de Berg's table behind her.

CHAPTER FOUR ONE of Nikki's duties as Public Relations Officer was going to be in the capacity of hostess at cheese and wine-tasting parties on the estate, and she was studying a book on tasting techniques when Philip de Berg phoned. 'You're having dinner with me tonight,' he told her, getting to the point. 'I warned you that I was going to get in their way.' After a moment in which she did some wild calculating, she said, 'Where?' 'Here, at Chardonnay. The weather isn't on our side. I think the drive into Cape Town would be too unpleasant.' 'All right,' she said, and she was able to speak without guilt nagging at her, for she knew that Uncle Johanne and Felix would not be at home. They were to attend a dinner and conference at the Holiday Inn in Cape Town. 'Be ready for me,' he said, 'I don't go in for useless telephone conversations. I'll see you tonight.' That evening Nikki dressed slowly and absentmindedly. By the time she was in his car, she felt the tension building up, however. Philip did that to her. 'So? How was the first day in the life of a Public Relations officer?' He turned to look at her. 'Fine.' She sat back. 'I'm familiar with most of the work, anyway.'

After a moment he said, 'And to think all this was the clever planning and foresight on the part of the man whom you refer to as Uncle Johanne.' 'So you keep telling me,' she said. Her voice was guarded. The air coming in through the window was smelling of rain. Nikki slipped her fingers beneath the collar of the coat she was wearing and held it against her cheeks. 'Felix, of course, played right into his father's hands, for he's greatly attracted to you. He shows signs of settling down at last. He might even marry ...' Philip sounded amused, although the anger in his voice was unmistakable. 'You imagine a great deal,' said Nikki. 'He isn't attracted to me.' 'You'd better stop counting on that, Nikki de Mist. Unless, of course, this is what you have in mind?' They had reached the avenue of oaks which ended in the circular drive and parking area of Chardonnay. Philip switched off the engine and turned to look at her. In the darkness, she could just make out the shape of his mouth and the way his eyes sought and held her own. 'Jacqueline is out,' he said, and there was a sudden taut- ness about his shoulders. 'I'll come round and open your door for you and then we'll have to run for it. The rain hasn't let up.' She waited for him as he wound his window up and then, while he was going round to her side of the car, she closed the window on the passenger side. He took her hand as she got out of the car and he still held it as they ran towards the main building, squirting water. Chardonnay, with its rain-blotted lights, looked welcoming.

'Tell me,' he said, when they were in the central hall, 'would you like to go to Jackie's room and take off your coat?' 'It's all right,' she said, 'I'll keep it on—and slip it over the back of a chair later.' Looking at him, she accepted that the physical attraction she felt towards him was overwhelming. Once the madness had passed, she smiled and waited for him to make the next move. They dined and the meal was superb. The dessert dishes were arranged on a long, white-clothed buffet table in the centre of the magnificent dining-room with its traditionally thick walls and sparkling chandelier. The frothy concoctions alone, on the dessert side, were enough to make one feel very pampered ... creamy trifles, baked caramel, fresh fruit salad and cream ... The guests were only there as a background, and Nikki was coming to the conclusion that she was madly attracted to the handsome and sarcastic Philip de Berg with the startling bluegreen eyes and even tan. Jacqueline came into the lounge just as they were preparing to leave for La Provence. 'Hi,' she said carelessly, 'so while the cat is away the mice begin to play?' And Nikki found herself wondering about Amber Graham. 'How's it, Nikki? I've been meaning to get in touch, but you know how it is ...' There was a wild, restless look about Jacqueline. Nikki managed to laugh softly. 'Oh, I'm fine, thank you. And you? Settling down?' 'Well... yes and no,' Jacqueline shrugged. 'Found any more antiques?'

'I haven't been in the mood,' Jacqueline replied, 'and besides, nothing has come up that I just happen to like. There's plenty of time, I guess. Actually, I'm thinking of doing something—you know, a job, or something. This character here, though, wants me home.' She gave Philip a look. 'He doesn't trust me, do you, my sweet? He thinks that if I help around here, arranging flowers and helping out at the desk I'll find something I seem to be looking for. Poor Philip! How old-fashioned you are, darling.' She grinned impudently at Nikki. 'Don't let on, but he still believes in virgins!' She laughed softly, then bit her lip and glanced sideways at Philip. Then to Nikki again, 'I'll give you a ring, Nikki. We really must get together.' When they went out to Philip's car the rain had lifted but the garden was smelling of wet leaves. In the darkness they exchanged looks. 'Well, thank you for a lovely dinner,' said Nikki. 'Did you learn to cook at the finishing school?' he asked, when they were in the car. 'Yes, we did. We did a Cordon Bleu course.' 'Do you like to cook?' He made no attempt to start the car. 'Yes. I like to cook, but I don't want to end up looking like a cook,' she smiled. She could just make out the outline of his features ... that firm chin, chiselled mouth. Sudden scattered memories of Francois came rushing in. Had her heart ever hammered this way when she'd been with him? She couldn't remember. 'I hate that kind of thought myself,' he said, 'you ending up looking like a cook. I'm becoming accustomed to your slimness, Nikki.'

He started the car. La Provence was glittering with lights when they got back. No doubt Uncle Johanne and Felix had not long arrived back from their dinner and conference. Nevertheless, Nikki felt a stab of irritation at seeing so many lights burning. Philip stopped the car, 'They're waiting up for you,' he said. 'They keep late hours,' she answered in a tight voice. 'I'll have to bring you back even later, in that case. Seeing all the lamps and lights burning destroys my mood, but I'm not going to let them get away with it. I intend kissing you, Nikki.' Nikki tried to piece herself together. 'You're very sure of yourself,' she commented. 'If the Dauphines stick around they might just see something they don't like.' He reached out for her and she caught her breath, although she had been expecting —and wanting it. He turned her face up to his with his fingers. The flesh on her neck seemed to be shrieking for him to take his fingers from her chin and touch her throat and then some more. When he put his mouth on hers she was aware of a throbbing restless interest. 'I've declared war on the Dauphines,' Philip said, against her mouth. 'It's as simple as that, Nikki.' She let go completely, clinging to him, her mouth parting without a will of its own. When he released her he said, 'I think they're licked, Nikki.' He glanced out of the open window and she followed his gaze. Uncle Johanne had stepped into the light from the lantern which lit up the entire length of the long stoep. Nikki said, 'Will you come in?' She cleared her throat. 'No, but I guess you already knew that when you made the invitation. You don't want to stay here, Nikki.'

'I do,' she felt compelled to say. 'She has chic and she has sophistication, but she still doesn't know how to lie,' he said. 'Goodnight, Nikki.' By the time she went towards the steps Uncle Johanne had gone inside and Philip had driven off. When she got into the hall she could hear their voices—Uncle Johanne and Felix. She decided to make for the staircase. 'Nikki?' It was Uncle Johanne. 'Yes?' Inwardly fuming, she stood where she was. 'Come through, girlie.' Reluctantly, she went to stand in the doorway, a slim, fashionable girl in a big fashionable coat. 'Yes?' she said again. 'You went to Chardonnay?' Uncle Johanne's voice was pleasant enough. 'Yes, I had dinner there.' She was aware of Felix watching her. Suddenly she felt a fury against her father for going off to Peru just when she needed him. 'And did you enjoy yourself?' 'Yes, very much. I had a delightful meal.' 'And this girl? You and she appear to be carrying on with your friendship which you struck up in Switzerland. The brother drove you home, of course. I couldn't help but notice, when I went

outside for a breather. It's quite a night—all this rain. You should have invited him in, Nikki.' 'I didn't want to,' she said. 'It—wasn't necessary.' In her flower-perfumed room she went to stand at the long windows with their small panes and window seats. What was a window seat for? she thought. In days gone by, did girls wearing nighties which reached from the floor up to their necks sit on them, brooding about the men in their lives with whom they could never ever be alone? Did they part their mouths as they kissed— when they were alone? A great thrill washed over her. For the first time in her life she wanted a man to possess her. She wanted to give herself to him with complete and wanton abandon. She wanted to give and to take ... Were Uncle Johanne Dauphine and son Felix always going to be up, waiting, when she got back from a date, to question and to probe—and to look for signs? Even her father had never done that. Was living in this house and working as Public Relations Officer on the estate going to give them this right? Nikki felt a sharp flare of anger and disappointment. Her face was strained and pale as she prepared for bed. She discarded the nightdress she had been wearing during the last two nights and chose one that left nothing to the imagination, and then she went to sit on the window seat where, in the past, Dauphine girls in another era had no doubt sat, sick with love and desire. The weather cleared slightly, even as she sat gazing out. Down below, the gardens were quiet. The lights had stopped spilling from the house. The Dauphines had bolted the doors and gone to bed. In the morning there was a brisk wind blowing. People came and went all day. Nikki lunched at the luncheon bar in the restaurant.

The copper, against bright white walls, glowed. Here at La Provence, there was everything she needed to be luxuriously content. She lived in a world of gabled homesteads, vineyards and purple-blue mountains. And yet here she was, restless and unsettled in her work and thrilled and yet puzzled by the handsome Philip de Berg. She was in love with him. If she had loved Francois Dauphine it had been in a very different way. She was having lunch when Jacqueline de Berg came to see her. 'I was told I'd find you here,' she said, looking glamorous in welltailored slacks and a floral organdie body-shirt. Nikki had the feeling that Jacqueline was bra-less, but she did not like to look too hard. Felix came out and settled himself on the other side of the counter, with the huge white, copper-strewn fireplace behind him and when he looked at Jacqueline Nikki knew that Jacqueline was bra-less. She introduced them. The restaurant was humming with tourist activity. 'Your wines are tremendous, by the way/ Jacqueline said to Felix. 'Good.' He inclined his dark head. 'My father has the saying that he isn't a wine mechanic but a wine-maker. There is good demand for our wines, I'll say that much for the old man. We produce an impressive array—Riesling, Steen, Cabernet, claret and a sweet wine which we call Chantal—our speciality.' 'I know it,' said Jacqueline. 'It's your famous dessert wine.' And then impishly, and laughing a little, 'And I know all about your scandal wine too.' 'Our scandal wine?' Nikki saw that Felix had flushed slightly.

'Yes—all the dregs which go to make up a very strong wine which is so popular among a certain cross-section of our Coloured population. It makes them fighting drunk, I know.' Felix laughed and, looking at them, Nikki thought, how alike these two are. Birds of a feather almost. 'There's a thing,' Felix was saying. Felix was called away to the phone and Jacqueline said, 'Whew! He could put his shoes underneath my bed any time, but no, I'm only kidding ... I'm in love with someone else.' After a moment, though, she contradicted herself by saying, 'I'm feeling madly restless, Nikki. Helping out with the flowers and at reception is just not enough. Perhaps if I were Philip's wife instead of his sister I'd feel differently about this. At the end of the day we'd make love in a big fourposter—and after all, Chardonnay is fantastic, and all that, but—oh, I don't know ...' She lifted her shoulders and let them slump again, sighing. 'I envy you your job here, believe me.' 'It has its drawbacks,' Nikki found herself saying. 'I'm thinking of leaving, as a matter of fact.' Now why had she said that? 'Leaving?' Jacqueline looked surprised. 'When?' 'I haven't made up my mind yet. Please don't mention this. I don't want to appear uncaring to the Dauphines. They've been so good to me, but, enchanted as I am, I want to get away.' 'What will you do?' Jacqueline asked, interested, and biting into a sandwich.

'Oh, I don't know. Open a finishing school, maybe. Would you like to join me?' She spoke carelessly, and was utterly unprepared for the way in which Jacqueline responded. 'Are you serious?' Jacqueline caught her wrist and peered into her face. 'I wasn't—until a fraction of a minute ago,' Nikki's mind began leaping ahead. 'If you are, Nikki, I'm game to join you. No, I'm serious. Although I bunked finishing school and didn't graduate, this idea appeals to me tremendously. We could find premises somewhere— Stellenbosch, most probably. One of those old Cape Dutch, Georgian or Victorian places, you know—just off Dorp Street. You can still see them empty. So far as I'm concerned money would be no problem. Philip would just have to let me have the money which he has in trust for me.' 'I'll have to think about it,' Nikki said cautiously. The idea of hurting Uncle Johanne was too much for her suddenly. And then fragments of the attention Felix had showered on her during the past few days collected and rushed together, along with the expression on Uncle Johanne's face every time he saw them together. It could not go on. She had to leave. 'I'll think about it,' she said, 'but I'm afraid I have to get back to the office right now.' 'Drive over, this evening,' said Jacqueline, as Nikki slid from her stool. 'We can talk about such things as accommodation, courses, publicity—and so oh.' As Nikki crossed the lawn to the sales department offices and wine-tasting room her thoughts raced ahead. What had been said in a moment of impulsiveness now seemed to make all the sense in

the world to her. They could do it? Why not? She had the knowhow and the courage and the good taste ... The brightly-clothed Coloured girls were already busy with orders when she stepped into the cool gloom of the building which was so steeped in Cape history.

She was in a divided mind, however, when she drove to Chardonnay. Had she done a foolish thing in involving Jacqueline de Berg in something which had started off as a fleeting fancy on her part? 'Philip's out, thank goodness,' said Jacqueline, on Nikki's arrival. 'Sometimes Amber comes in useful. Come through here, Nikki.' Nikki had found herself tensing at the name Amber and she would have liked to ask Jacqueline about her, but decided against it. She had already said too much to this lovely restless girl. They dined at a small table in the library with its gleaming yellowwood flowers, huge small-paned windows and blue and white plates on the white fireplace. Jacqueline lost little time in getting to the point. 'Nikki,' she said, 'look, I have money in trust. I'm prepared to invest what I have. Philip will just have to let me have it.' 'I have some money saved,' Nikki answered. 'I'd been saving madly to go overseas and then didn't use it when Uncle Johanne paid for the finishing school. It could hardly be termed as capital— and we're going to need capital, the way I see it. My father also

deposited money to my account before he left for Peru, which I haven't touched.' Over the meal, they discussed figures. They scribbled in small notebooks, and the young Coloured maid who served them looked both puzzled and offended. 'This is a business meal, Sadie,' Jacqueline said, looking up, 'so you'll just have to excuse our bad manners. That's why we're having dinner in here, as a matter of fact.' Some time later Nikki said, 'To find suitable premises is going to be the big thing. We must find a place with character, but within our means, of course. Furniture and fittings will have to be kept to a minimum. A housekeeper is out. Along with the girls, we'll run the school.' 'It will be hard going until after the first batch of students have graduated,' Jacqueline answered. 'I know that, Nikki, but we'll be on solid ground. We'll have learned by our mistakes ...' 'May they be few.' Nikki lifted her glass in a mocking salute. For a while they continued talking about the finishing school and then Jacqueline said, 'Tell me, Nikki, do they seem to regard you as—his—widow? You know— Francois?' Nikki's expression changed quickly. 'Well, yes, they do, in a way ...' 'And now Johanne Dauphine has the idea that you'll turn to Felix, the other son?' Nikki made a gesture with her hand. 'Yes, I think that's about it.'

'And you don't want that?' 'No.' 'This Uncle Johanne, as you call him, almost regards you as a Dauphine, just because you were once engaged to a son who was killed in an accident. As a matter of fact, Nikki, although we're practically neighbours and get our estate wines from La Provence we've never got beyond that, but I know all about the Dauphines for all that. A lot of people know about them.'

Philip arrived back before Nikki left for La Provence. 'Well,' his eyes went over her, 'so much freedom must be going to your head, Nikki.' There was a sarcastic edge to his voice. 'Yes,' she said in a flighty kind of voice, 'it is, actually.' 'You shouldn't admit that—not to me.' His eyes held hers. 'Oh, I don't know,' she shrugged her slim shoulders, 'it will give you great satisfaction. That's the main thing, isn't it?' 'Anyway, you're here. What have you two been up to?' His eyes went to the table which had two notebooks on it. 'As you see, we've had a quiet little dinner together,' Jacqueline told him. 'But why in the library?' The coffee things were still on a low table, for Jacqueline had ordered more. 'Why not in the library? We had things to discuss, if you must know.'

'What kind of things?' He came to stand next to Nikki, who fought the heady feeling she always experienced when he was near her. 'You'll be the first to know—don't worry,' Jacqueline told him. Nikki looked for her notebook. 'I'll have to be going,' she said. They were in the hall when Jacqueline was called to the telephone. 'Philip will see you to your cab,' she called out, 'and I'll be in touch.' The noise of talking and laughter which came from the ladies' bar made Nikki say, 'I wish I was on holiday. When tomorrow comes all they have to think of is visiting the wine estates, driving out into the mountains or down to the sea, or lazing next to the pool and eating ...' 'On the other hand, some of them will be leaving for home in the morning, and it will be back to work for them. It goes like that, I guess.' They went outside and down the wide steps. At her car Philip asked, 'How does your visit here this evening fit into the scheme of things, Nikki de Mist?' 'I wish you'd stop calling me Nikki de Mist, but in any case, I came to see your sister. She had lunch with me today.' 'Oh? She didn't tell me, but then Jackie is often a dark horse.' Her car was parked, along with all the other cars, beneath the huge oaks. People long since dead seemed to live on, though. The cars looked out of place.

Nikki began hunting in her bag for her keys. She felt a little dazed from sharing a bottle of wine with Jacqueline. 'What's all the mystery about, Nikki? You still haven't told me.' Philip stretched out a hand to cover hers so that she was hindered from fidgeting inside her bag. 'We were merely discussing something,' she said. 'Trying to plan— something.' 'Planning can take many forms. How about being a little more explicit?' His hand still held hers. Laughing a little and shaking her head, Nikki said, 'I never can find my keys, even at the best of times.' 'Meaning that at the best of times you haven't been drinking too much wine?' Philip sounded amused. 'Is that it?' He snapped the bag shut. 'The keys can wait.' 'They can't, you know. I'm in a hurry. I want to get home.' Her fingers fluttered in his hand. 'Home!' His voice was suddenly hard. 'But then maybe I'm missing the point. Maybe it is home to you? Let's just be sure about this, Nikki.' 'It is home to me, if you want to put it that way,' she said. 'I seem to remember that my father sold our house before leaving for Peru and that later I gave up my flat, and so La Provence happens to be my home, right now.' 'Don't be cautious with me, Nikki. Just be honest.' 'I like to think I'm honest.'

She took her hand away from his and opened her bag and found the keys first shot. He took them from her and inserted the car key in the lock, then he leaned across her and opened the door for her. 'I asked you a question,' he said. 'What are you and Jackie up to?' 'I can't answer you. You'll have to wait until she tells you.' On the drive back to La Provence she brooded on how she would find the opportunity to discuss the finishing school with Jacqueline. It was virtually impossible to do this at La Provence. Shafts of light were coming from the windows as she drove up to the house and she felt resentment begin to well up inside her. Why was she always greeted by those lights when she'd been out and was getting back late? she thought. Directly she stepped into the beautiful central hall where the bronze chandelier glittered down on the Persian carpets she was always expected to make her way straight into the drawing-room where the Dauphines were usually reading, or listening to music. When Felix came out of the drawing-room to greet her a nervous excitement made it difficult for her to breathe easily. 'Father and Lorraine are out,' he told her. 'But to get back to you, Nikki, you certainly get around. Tell me, as a matter of interest, where do you run yourself ragged at night?' 'I've been having dinner with Jacqueline de Berg,' she replied stiffly. 'And so you must have been in the company of her dashing brother? I confess I'm jealous, Nikki.' 'I was with Jacqueline. We had one or two matters to discuss.'

'How friendly were you with her in Switzerland? I— I've often wondered.' He looked suddenly cagey, she thought. 'We were as friendly as females get when they happen to be cooped up at the same place together for a certain period of time.' She shrugged. 'Jacqueline left before graduation, actually, and so I never got to know her all that well.' 'But you must have exchanged—confidences, surely?' 'She knew about Francois, if that's what you mean.' 'How much did she know about him?' His voice was tense. 'What's all this about? She knew that I was engaged to him. What else was there for her to know?' 'I—just wondered,' he said. 'Jacqueline de Berg is stunning, don't you think?' 'Yes, she is. She's beautiful.' 'What can I get you to drink?' He took her arm. 'Nothing, thank you. It's late, and besides, I'm tired. How is it that you aren't out somewhere? I always understood that you were restless.' She tried to keep her voice casual. 'Perhaps you've changed that,' he said, and for a moment they were both silent. Then he said, 'You can't live in the past, Nikki.' 'I'm not,' she answered.

Dark and handsome, looking more like his ancestors so far as colouring was concerned than Philip de Berg with his blue-green eyes, Felix stood looking at her. 'Oh, come on, Nikki. One drink.' Because it seemed suddenly easier to be in the lounge with him, than in bed upstairs, with him downstairs— just the two of them in, this house—she said, 'Okay. Just one, though.' 'Are you going to let me make mild love to you?' 'No, I'm not. If that's what you have in mind then scrap the drink.' He laughed softly. 'But the time will come, Nikki.' 'I think not.' When Uncle Johanne and Lorraine arrived back Nikki felt resentment flare up when she saw the look of pleasure on Johanne's face when he saw them together. 'Well, well,' he said, 'it looks as though we just got back at the wrong time, eh, Lorraine?' Nikki stood up. 'No, not at all. I was just going off, as a matter of fact.' She looked around for somewhere to put her glass. Philip phoned her in the morning and, trying to hide the pleasure and surprise she was feeling, she said, 'Hello, there.' 'You're having lunch with me,' he announced. 'Where?' she asked, a little breathlessly. 'You know I can't get away from here. I usually lunch at the luncheon bar in the restaurant.' 'So? I'll be over.'

Her eyes went over the skirt and blouse she was wearing. She felt she looked good. And then, just before one o'clock, he strolled into the cool gloom of the office. Outside, on the long paved veranda, a Coloured manservant was polishing the copper brandy stills. At the sight of Philip de Berg, Nikki's heart kicked over. He was always so in command, she thought, so sure of himself, whether he was wearing jeans and a shirt open almost to the waist, or a dark business suit. 'You'll have to wait, I'm afraid,' she said. Her grapegreen eyes went to the big double doors which led down into the tasting room. 'They've been so long in there, tasting. I'm expecting a marvellous order.' Their eyes met and she realised that she had shivered slightly. His eyes were on her the whole time she dealt with the people who had now finished tasting and it made her feel self-conscious, which was not the way she liked to feel. 'I'm sorry to have kept you,' she said a little later. They went out into the sun together and when they were in the restaurant they chose a table which overlooked the vineyards. 'It's been quite a morning,' Nikki said when they were seated. She shook back her hair and sighed. 'Don't think you're unique,' he answered, smiling. 'I've had quite a morning myself.' 'You look as if you've just got in from playing polo or something.' Her eyes went over him briefly. 'How come? I'm not wearing riding breeches,' he grinned.

'No—but you look all tanned and healthy.' 'That's good living,' he told her. In the distance the shadows in the mountain gorges were dark, highlighting the sunlit vineyards below. The sky was that wonderful shade of misty blue and the branches of the oaks formed yellow-green patterns on white walls. Nikki was in love and she knew it. Her eyes devoured Philip as he studied the menu and then, when he glanced up unexpectedly, she laughed softly and bit her lip. 'Satisfied?' he asked. 'This room,' she took a calming breath, 'is full of old things, do you know that? Not many people seem to notice. They're always too busy eating.' His eyes held hers for a moment and then they flickered round the restaurant. 'Like what?' he asked. 'Well, like that framed receipt, over there, for the sale of a slave girl. Can you imagine it?' A look of awe crossed her face. 'I'd like a slave girl,' he said, 'one with grape-green eyes and hair the colour of a lioness's coat—a girl to dance for me at night.' 'You don't want much.' Her lashes blinked. 'One can almost feel the presence of these people so long departed, don't you think? All the people who lived and loved on these estates. The people who owned slaves and the slaves themselves, like that beautiful girl who was sold. It makes me sad to think of it.' When she looked across the room she saw that Felix had come out of his office and had spotted them. For a moment, she regarded him with brooding

eyes and then she went on, 'Each estate, I suppose, has its own story to tell. Each estate demands respect.' Today, the grape-patterned tablecloths had been changed and the material had saffron and cinnamon flowers on an amethyst background. For a while they exchanged information on their respective ancestors. He told her that the first de Bergs had arrived in 1688 in the Oosterlandt and that they had come to the Stellenbosch area and there they were, still. 'The ghosts of the de Bergs, long since dead, seem to live on,' he said, grinning. She widened her eyes. 'Do you have any ghosts?' she asked. 'Only one.' He glanced at her in mocking amusement. 'Where?' she asked. 'In one of the old cellars—well, a punishment cellar.' 'Are you joking? You must be.' 'On the contrary.' His eyes mocked her. 'Have you seen the ghost?' 'At the risk of spoiling an interesting story—no, I haven't.' 'But there is one?' 'Come, come, Nikki!' 'Well, it seems possible, when you come to think of it. After all, a punishment cellar. How horrible!'

'I don't like to think about it,' he said, 'but that was the pattern of things then, Nikki.' He gazed at her and in a lighter tone, he said, 'Besides, how do you know our little slave girl there,' his eyes went to the framed receipt, 'was beautiful? Not that that explains away why she had to be sold, of course.' 'I have a feeling she was,' she said. 'I hope she didn't have to dance naked at night before some man.' 'But I didn't say anything about dancing naked,' he gave her a mocking glance. 'Did I? It must have been at the back of your mind.' Flustered, feeling that she had given herself away in front of him, she opened her bag and took out her purse. 'Nikki,' his voice was hard. 'Let's get to the point. I may be visiting you but I'm doing the paying. Right?' When she got back to the office there was a letter from Luciana Bini, which surprised her. Luciana expressed the hope that Nikki would answer soon. She wrote that night, giving Luciana all the news and then, stifled by the Dauphines, she explained about the finishing school which she and Jacqueline wished to get going. But premises are going to be a problem, she wrote, at a rental Jacqueline and I feel we can afford.

CHAPTER FIVE THEY heard about premises, just off Dorp Street. Two days later, Jacqueline drove out to see the building while Nikki was at work and when she got back she said, 'It's falling to bits, but it has potential, I think. It must be steeped in history, which would go down very well. Anyway, here are the keys, Nikki. Go out and see it. I took Philip to see it, actually. I drove out there twice.' 'What did he say?' Nikki's heart missed a beat. 'He told me to forget it. Apart from what he thought of the place he threw the fact up in my face that I hadn't even completed the course in Switzerland and that this venture could well end up being "another of those things" with me. Anyway, the agent let me have two sets of keys, until tomorrow. Here's one lot. As soon as you can get away from here drive out and take a look at it. Let me know what you think. You never know, you might just come up with a brainwave. You might be able to talk to Philip and to get him really interested. He did show a flicker.' Nikki drove out to Stellenbosch after five when she had finished at the office. Her big yellow-wood desk was getting on her nerves. There was a short circular drive which ended at a marble pool, which had no water in it and which was cracked with age. To one side of the door to the building there was the figurehead of a ship and the whitewashed walls were green in places. At one time, long, long ago, it had been fashionable. At one time, it had been well cared for and loved and respected and almost a part of the unique Dorp Street, with its mixture of avenue, road and street, lined with oaks and surely one of the loveliest architectural vistas in the country. For some unknown reason, however, the building had never been restored or looked after.

Nikki opened the door and stepped into the central hall. The air smelled of mildew and dust. Somebody had pasted newspaper over most of the window-panes. No doubt the paper had held the sun at bay, thus causing much of the dampness, which any fool would notice. Many of the teak shutters were also closed. Some of them were broken. The building, it was obviously a mansion, was bigger than she had imagined it to be. Although from the street the facade was narrow, the building stretched away to the back. With imagination and, what was more important, a whole lot of money to spare, it had possibilities. After all, they would enrol six to eight girls to make it pay. When Philip spoke she turned to look at him, catching her breath a little in the gloom. 'You gave me a fright,' she said, on a little laugh. 'Whew! I was completely wrapped up in thought.' Going over her with his blue-green eyes, he said, 'I hope it pleases you?' His voice was hard. He was dressed casually, but there was always this air of elegance about him, Nikki thought, combined with an easy kind of strength which always caused her pulses to quicken. 'I have the other set of keys,' he went on, 'so I drove over. Jacqueline said you'd be here after five, and I promised her I'd have another look at the place.' 'What do you think of it?' she asked, when all she could think of right now was him. He came to stand next to her and she was aware that they were, quite suddenly, playing a game. She realised that it needed only one small movement from one of them to trigger something off. At this particular moment, she was not thinking of the building—and neither was he.

However, Philip said, 'I'd say that these walls have been catching the moisture blown in by the north-west wind and the south-easter in the summer for generations!' Her bare arm brushed his hand and she felt the slight recoil. He was afraid to touch her, she thought with satisfaction. She went -to stand at one of the windows, where she began to tear off some of the newspaper from the panes, so that she could see out. 'Jacqueline didn't finish her course at the finishing school,' he said, still in that same abrupt, hard voice. 'What she knows about running one I fail to understand. You, on the other hand, have the qualifications, taste and enthusiasm, no doubt, to do so.' 'She's qualified to teach,' Nikki replied, not looking at him, but aware of him in the gloom, the dust... 'I mean, hadn't she qualified before she even went to Switzerland —to teach?' 'She was a nursery school teacher, believe it or not. Quite a difference, I should imagine. She was also going to run a boutique once, which I financed and which fizzled out, at great cost to myself.' 'A—apart from what we both have,' said Nikki, 'we're hoping to raise a bond or something ...' 'Or something!' His voice was almost sneering now. 'They're asking a fantastic figure for it, regardless of the damp and rundown condition of the place. You realise this, of course? And yet you still want to go on with this crazy scheme?' 'Yes, I know. But in any case, there is another place we're interested in.'

'I know,' he said, 'to hell and gone; Jacqueline told me about it.' 'Not so far off.' Although she didn't want to leave Stellenbosch in view of the fact that she didn't want to leave him she felt inclined to tell him about it—to argue with him. 'Besides,' she looked around, 'this place should be all right. Maybe we can get it a facelift or something, at a reasonable price.' 'You're talking like a little fool,' he said. 'Face-lifts, even on women, cost a fortune.' Nikki was quiet for a moment, just looking out where she had made a place by tearing away the newspaper. The grass outside—it could not be called lawn—was very green and the ground looked damp and sour. She began scratching at the paper again and then Philip came to stand next to her. He reached for her hand and held it still. 'For God's sake, Nikki, stop scratching like a mouse!' While he held her hand and while she could hardly breathe, she said, 'Jacqueline can't go on arranging flowers at Chardonnay for the rest of her life, dammit. Can't you see this?' Tension hung on the air. An uncontrollable part of her mind was obsessed with the idea of this man making love to her, of his hands exploring the secret places of her body, his mouth—her mouth, and as though he knew what she was thinking his eyes met hers and the long exploratory look drew them together and provided the desire for further physical contact. He let go of her hand and then, with all the arrogance of the dominant male, he drew her towards him while his other hand played with her tawny hair. She was excitedly conscious of his body. She felt his fingers go to the nape of her neck before he bent his head and kissed her. Their breath mingled. His mouth was insistent on hers and her fingers found their way to

his arms and tightened in a beautiful feline way. She felt the response within her and went slack against him. He knew how to kiss, she thought. Somewhere, as she became more aroused, flames shot up. 'Nikki,' he murmured, 'you—little devil.' After a moment, he released her. 'That—had to happen, I suppose.' It was a statement, unconcerned—and careless, she thought bitterly, while she tried to get a grip on her breathing. 'I thought you liked your work at La Provence?' he asked. 'I thought that you looked upon La Provence as your home? What the devil do you want to leave it for?' 'I—I'm—not cut out to be a Public Relations Officer,' she answered lamely. 'I think you are, but still... It was a mistake on your part, accepting a course at a finishing school, let's face it. You could have got promotion without it. What has Johanne Dauphine to say about this?' 'He—doesn't know yet. I haven't told him.' 'But you will have to tell him—and soon, won't you?' 'I suppose so.' 'And son Felix?' His voice was touched with malice. 'I'll tell them both, when the time comes,' she said. She felt she had recovered enough to say, 'I think you have a nerve! You kiss me and then, very casually, you say—that had to happen, I suppose. Then you switch to talking about the Dauphines, as if nothing had happened. Why did it happen?'

He shrugged. 'Because you were there, Nikki, and because there were no Dauphines peeping through lace curtains, no doubt.' She felt cheated. 'I see.' The room with its dampness tilted slightly and then, when it had righted itself, she said, moving away from him, 'I—have a lot to think about. I must go.' 'And don't let me hold you up,' he said, 'and don't let me keep you from the Dauphines.' He followed her out. He had parked his car next to her own and Nikki opened her bag for her keys and then, when she had found them, he took them from her, his fingers brushing hers. 'Allow me.' Then, biting her lip, she watched him unlock her car. His movements were full of ease and masculine grace. 'Okay.' He passed the keys back to her. 'Drive carefully.' 'And that strikes me as a senseless thing to say,' she snapped, bitterly hurt with him. 'A pointless, callous thing to say. You know that Francois was killed in an accident—a car accident.' 'It wasn't meant that way,' he told her. 'No?' She slipped into the driver's seat and glared at him. Pale sunshine was coming through the open window, touching her fabulous tawny hair. 'Will you please give Jacqueline the other set of keys for me?' she said, and began searching for them. 'She can return them—with the others.' She did not know what to make of him, she thought despondently. How easy he must have thought her, as her fingers had tightened convulsively on his arm as she had slackened against him, her mouth giving way to the desire she had felt for him. And not one word ... not one word to the effect that he—he was falling in love

with her, maybe. A picture of Amber Graham came to her mind and she felt a spurt of impotent rage against Philip de Berg. Luciana Bini surprised her by answering almost immediately by air mail. 'My esteemed uncle in Johannesburg,' Luciana wrote, 'has a warehouse. This warehouse is in an area which has been proclaimed a non-industrial area. As it so happened, he was here on holiday with us—he is still here—and I have listened to him discussing this with my father. Immediately I pricked up my ears when I heard them discussing the warehouse and I got to work immediately. Believe it or not, he is interested in helping you. Not only is the warehouse suitable for conversion, but it is suitable for what you and Jacqueline de Berg have in mind—a finishing school. He is prepared, on hearing from you, to organise and pay for these conversions when he gets back to South Africa. If you are interested in this warehouse, you are to contact Mr G. Bini at the address given when he arrives back in South Africa, which is on the 28th of this month. Good luck!' Nikki sat back, digesting the contents of the letter. What a wonderful offer, but one which would take her away from Stellenbosch—from Philip de Berg. Like a fool, however, she showed the letter to Jacqueline, who immediately showed great interest. 'It will mean leaving the Cape,' Nikki pointed out. 'I don't care. I'm frustrated with the Cape. It reminds me too much of Switzerland, with its mountains. It could be a good thing,' Jacqueline replied.

'But we have this other place to see,' Nikki argued. 'I don't think we should get too involved with this Johannesburg scheme. After all, a man we don't know is prepared to restore a warehouse into premises suitable for a finishing school. Do you think he's going to do this for nothing? When the work has been completed he will ask a fantastic rent for it, make no mistake about that.' . 'So you're going to turn down a godsend?' Jacqueline's voice rose. 'Come off it, Nikki!' 'I can't see Philip agreeing to it.' 'To hell with Philip! I'm sick of him too. Besides, we'll be so involved by the time that he gets to know about it that he won't be able to do a thing about it.' Philip walked into Nikki's office the following day when she was just finishing work, and something in his expression told her that he knew. 'Nikki,' he snapped, 'I have something to say to you. Where can we talk?' He came to stand next to her desk. 'We can talk now,' she said, in a hard little voice. 'What is it?' 'It's about this scheme of yours to go to Johannesburg.' 'This—scheme, as you call it, is only talk.' 'I take it that you're about to close here?' His eyes flickered round the room. Most of the staff had already left. 'Yes, I am.' 'In that case we'll go to Chardonnay. I'll wait for you in the car.'

When she finally managed to join him and got into his car beside him she felt invaded by his bad mood. 'Why can't we just talk here?' she asked. 'In your car?' Starting the engine, he said, 'Because we're going to Chardonnay, where we can talk in peace.' He drove recklessly. Nikki watched his hands on the wheel and then turned away. They were travelling too fast down an avenue of oaks. Gabled houses, giving little indication of their size and depth from the front, could be seen on the other side of the oaks. When she turned to look at him again she saw that his blue-green eyes were hot with impatience. 'I'll tell you something,' he said suddenly, 'I was thinking of meeting Jacqueline halfway with this venture when it was confined to Stellenbosch, or hereabout. But now all that's for the birds. Johannesburg is out! However, seeing that it means so much to you—perhaps you have a reason for wanting to go there—you'd better count Jacqueline out. Perhaps your reckless boy-friend is shoving off to the city of gold?' They had reached Chardonnay. 'Come on,' he said. 'Let's get this thing sorted out.' 'Will Jacqueline be there?' she asked. 'No, she won't.' Nikki opened the door and slipped her long legs out of the car and stood up.

There were great masses of lido-blue hydrangeas in the large foyer. Amber Graham was there, talking to the receptionist, and she said, 'Philip, I was looking for you.' 'Can it wait?' he asked, but the tone of his voice was patient and then in a changed abrupt voice he said to Nikki, 'This way.' He led the way into his private drawing-room where the patina on the paved floor was worn smooth by generations of footsteps. It was a wonder the Persian rugs did not slip, she thought. She caught sight of herself and Philip in an enormous gold-framed antique mirror which had a grape pattern on the gold work. Beneath the mirror was a massive arrangement of dried mauve bougainvillea, beautifully preserved and arranged. 'Amber Graham is here for a few days,' Philip told her, 'and we're going out shortly, so I want to get this over with.' 'Why did you bring me here in the first place?' she asked. 'You didn't have to.' 'No, but I did. What will you have to drink?' 'A double Martini, please.' 'A double?' 'Yes.' She chose one of the turquoise-blue chairs to go with comfortable sofas and while he was pressing a bell which was obviously connected to the bar she flickered her eyes around the room which was out of bounds to guests. Through the huge ginger-coloured framed panes there was a magnificent view of white pillars and a statue, set against the backdrop of almost purple mountains. This was almost like Amber

Graham's second home, Nikki was thinking, for Jacqueline had also mentioned that Amber had come from Cape Town for a few days. Philip came back to where she was sitting and he took the sofa opposite her, with a low coffee table dividing them. 'Did Jacqueline tell you that it was all cut and dried about Johannesburg?' she asked. 'She's made it pretty obvious that she wants to go along with you.' His blue-green eyes were hard. 'Well, it's up to her, isn't it?' she asked sweetly. 'It's as simple as that, I should imagine.' Their drinks arrived, interrupting them, and then Nikki lifted her glass to give her something to do with her hands, but she did not lift it to her lips. 'I wish to make this clear,' he told her. 'Johannesburg is out.' 'That remains to be seen,' she answered hotly. 'Anyway, I might well open a finishing school at La Provence.' 'They'd love that.' His voice was sneering. 'Leave them out of this,' she retorted. 'Anyway, don't you have a date?' 'Yes,' he replied, 'I do.' 'Well, so do I. I have to get back now, if you don't mind.' 'I do mind,' he told her.

'That's too bad, isn't it?' She felt like a child—evasive and impossible. She stood up. After a moment Philip joined her and they went out to his car. The sun was setting, but it was warm, almost hot. Although there were long shadows in the garden Felix was in the flower-framed pool. Philip parked the car and, out of the corner of her eye, Nikki saw Felix do a slow crawl to the side of the pool and then he hoisted himself from the water and came over to her side of the car. Placing both wet hands against Nikki's cheeks, he said, 'Feel,' and she squealed. 'See what you've missed?' He made it sound as if she had been going to swim with him but hadn't turned up. He opened the door for her and said very casually, looking at Philip. 'Hello, how's it?' Nikki stepped out. 'The water was delicious,' Felix looked at her again. 'And there's still time, before dinner. Climb into a bikini and join me.' Philip started the car and Nikki turned quickly, but before she could say anything he had begun to drive away.

She tried to hide her surprise the following day when Philip rang her at work. 'Nikki,' he said, 'there are old slave quarters at Chardonnay which can be converted to suit the purpose of a finishing school. At present they're being used as storerooms. They're a considerable way from the main house and you would have all the privacy needed. It's either this—or nothing. Jacqueline's not going to Johannesburg and I have now made it

clear to her.' His voice seemed to convey that neither was she going to Johannesburg. 'We still have to see this other place.' She felt like a child again, evasive and difficult with him. 'Why do you have to see it, when there's a place here, waiting?' he asked. 'I have to see it to—convince myself,' she replied. 'After all, I'm also investing money in this venture.' 'It's to hell and gone,' he said. 'Still on the Cape coast,' she replied. 'I intend seeing it. I think Jacqueline should too, for that matter.' She was terribly interested in the slave quarters at Chardonnay but, womanlike, she decided to go on arguing. 'You'll see this place first,' he said. 'I'll pick you up at five.' 'Just like that!' she snapped, and wished that she did not feel so excited at the thought of it. 'Just like that.' He rang off. When he called for her she was still busy with people who had been tasting in the morning and had come back to place an order in the afternoon. 'I won't be long,' she said to Philip, and then she found herself being plagued by such questions as, 'When exactly did winemaking in South Africa begin?'

'In—1655.1 hope I'm correct,' she laughed a little, feeling flustered in front of Philip. 'The Dutch wine-growers were soon valuably reinforced by Huguenot immigration.' 'With a name like de Mist, you must surely be of French Huguenot descent?' 'Yes, I am.' Nikki tried not to look at Philip. 'Didn't I read somewhere,' an American voice asked, 'that slaves are known to have died from the fumes while going inside those huge oak vats to clean them?' 'So history has it.' Nikki wished they would leave. 'I've heard that each estate has its ghost. Is that true of La Provence?' 'No, but Mr de Berg, from Chardonnay, has a ghost, I believe.' 'Really? How interesting. Do tell us about it.' Several minutes went by while Philip answered questions and when the party left he said, 'She has chic and sophistication, this girl, this Public Relations Officer, but she should swot up her history.' 'I know enough to get by,' Nikki said. 'You're very reckless, are you not, in offering us the use of your old slave quarters? Where's the money coming from to convert them?' 'I'll have the conversion done, at my expense.' 'I seee ...' She drew the word out and lifted a pen from her desk and then dropped it back again with a little bounce. 'In other words, my

involvement with Chardonnay, now, would be total ... to coin one of your own corny old expressions.' 'Exactly.' 'Uh-huh.' Her eyes went over him. For a mad moment she felt that she had a certain power over him. 'You're very clever, you know. Nearly as clever as Uncle Johanne, aren't you?' 'Look,' he said, 'are you ready? Stop wasting time. It will be dark soon.' He had little to say to her on the drive to Chardonnay. In the distance tall fir trees looked like black eyelashes against the deep mauve mountains. At Chardonnay the birds were still twittering as they prepared to roost. Philip parked the car and led the way to his private drawingroom. On this side of Chardonnay there were yellow sun-awnings with white fringing over the veranda. Glass french doors .opened out on to the veranda. Here, crouching ornamental lions guarded the door, and Nikki grinned to herself. Then her eyes went to the garden which seemed to be full of hydrangeas, geraniums, bougainvillea, petunias, camellias and verbena. The gardens at Chardonnay were alive with colour, whereas the gardens at La Provence were very formal. The Dauphines, no doubt, were too busy producing wines, whereas Chardonnay, sadly hit and unable to produce grapes suitable for export wine, had to rely on its beauty to attract the many visitors who helped to keep it going. 'I'll get the keys,' Philip told her. 'I won't be a moment and we can see this place before the light goes.' 'Fine,' Nikki said, in her best finishing school drawl.

While he was gone she stepped out on to the veranda and walked the short distance to the orangery with its white urns and orange and pomegranate trees growing in tubs. Gently she touched the cold face of a statue which was set in a dark green-painted recess in the white wall. It was the face of a girl, beautiful and looking almost as Jacqueline might look when she was day-dreaming. Beyond several white arches she could see the pool, fountains and tall pampas grasses. 'Nikki!' Philip's voice was commanding and she turned quickly. 'Let's get going, shall we, if you don't mind.' 'Where's Jacqueline?' she asked, coming back down the steps to the veranda, a level down from the orangery. 'Shouldn't she be here too?' 'She should be, but she isn't. It's not far to the quarters, we could walk, but in view of the fact that it's getting late, we'll drive there. I had intended putting through a phone call later this evening, but to hold me up now, it just had to come through. It goes like that.' 'You must be going out,' she said. 'You're in such a hurry.' 'I am,' he replied shortly. They drove the short way to the old slave quarters which were now being used as store-rooms. A slave-bell was a reminder of the past and that Chardonnay was steeped in history and the Coloured people who went on working there as maids, gardeners and stewards and who lived in homes, provided for them on the property, were the free descendants of freed slaves. 'At La Provence,' Nikki said, to break the tension in the car, 'the old slave-bell is still used to summon the vineyard workers.'

'Really?' His voice was cool. 'Here it's purely a reminder of the past.' He parked the car beneath some oaks and they got out. The sun had gone now, but it was still light. 'In here,' said Philip, leading the way into the old slave quarters, which he had opened up. Nikki stood at one of the doors. It was difficult to believe that restoration could bring about the kind of change it had in the part which was now incorporated into the hotel. From here, there was a glimpse of the vineyards which now produced a limited harvest. These vineyards, unlike the vineyards at La Provence, had known calamity after calamity, from Vlamsiekte to cloudbursts, from what she had heard. 'Seeing that you are so nervous of ghosts, Nikki de Mist, I'll go first,' said Philip, still speaking in that same hard voice. He led the way. The rooms were dark and musty. 'There will be tall windows,' he was saying, 'with wide sills and small panes of glass and shutters on the outside. Walls will be broken down, others left as they stand. Light will come pouring in ...' 'As it should have done when the slaves lived in them,' her voice was bitter, 'and it will cost a lot of money. It —frightens me, actually.' Standing in the semi-darkness he said, 'It will be an investment on my part. If the finishing school flops, it will be taken over as part of the hotel. In other words, it will accommodate guests.' 'And so you will be—safeguarded?' She knew that her voice was sarcastic.

'Yes, to a point, Nikki. To a point.' Suddenly she laughed. 'I think this place is haunted. Well, isn't it? That is why you haven't converted it, before now. I can—er— almost feel the past here, do you know that?' She turned to look at him and a strange shock went through her. 'Your ancestors must have been a cruel lot, Philip, to have owned so many slave quarters. A rich, cruel lot.' 'I'm not cruel and I'm not rich,' he said. 'My ancestors happened to live in that careless era when such matters existed. The Coloured people who live here are descendants—just as I am a descendant and Jacqueline is a descendant and you, with your strange throwback grape- green eyes and tawny hair, are a descendant. They are free to leave—they are the free descendants, after all, but they choose to remain. Beyond the thick white walls of their homes there have been many, many births and just as many— deaths.' She was quiet for a moment and then she said, 'If the finishing school flops, what then? Am I going to be allowed to leave?' 'You'll have to make up your own mind about that, just as you're going to have to make up your mind about leaving La Provence for Chardonnay. It's as simple as that.' 'Nothing is simple,' she said, 'but I see.' She felt strangely excited. He took her arm. Once, as she stumbled along on the rough floor, she nearly fell; Philip caught her and held her to him, and she knew that the desire she felt for him was not one-sided. For a brief instant she lay against him in the dark, gloomy place.

'You will make up your mind,' he said, against her tawny hair, 'but make no mistake about this, Nikki, you will play your part in the history of Chardonnay.' 'You forgot the de Mist,' she said. When he released her she said in a shaken little voice, 'Is this the place reputed to be haunted? I mean, all these places do have their own private ghost.' 'This happens to be an exception,' he answered. 'But what about that punishment cellar you told me about?' 'The one back at the main house?' 'Yes, the one back at the main house.' She knew that she had trapped him, and smiled in the darkness. 'That's all talk.' 'But there is one?' she asked. Something moved in the darkness—possibly a rat— but the darkness held the faint sound of Nikki's indrawn breath. 'It's only a rat,' said Philip, but this time he did not touch her. 'Come outside now.' To clear her mind she said, 'Who would undertake to do the alterations?' 'The same builders who undertook the other conversion. We'll go and have a look at one of the suites. It was vacated this morning.'

They drove back in the car and then got out in front of the long brick-tiled veranda which had supporting white pillars and pergola. Bougainvillea looked colourful even in this light and the light coming from the windows and french doors leading to the rooms. Motel- style, the rooms led directly off the veranda and blue and white Delft tiles bore the numbers next to louvre- shuttered doors. 'Now, this was very much the same as the building we have just left,' Philip said. 'It's hard to believe,' she replied. He stepped back for her to enter a room and then he followed her in. Nikki's eyes took in the flowers, which were everywhere and now awaiting new guests in the morning. They were in vases on the bedside tables, the low coffee table and dressing-table. The white walls dividing the bedroom from a sitting-room were very thick. Philip showed her the modern bathroom and the patio, which led off the sitting-room. White cast-iron intricately- worked furniture looked very white in the semi-darkness. The patio was screened from its neighbour by a low curved white wall. 'Do you see what I mean?' Philip asked. 'Yes, but before I decide I must see this other place on the coast.' 'Why are you so damned keen to see this other place?' he demanded. 'Here, and I've just shown you, you have an insight as to what can be achieved.' 'I know,' she said, 'but I must satisfy my own mind.' In her heart, though, she knew that she was going to take him up on his offer. 'In fact, we were going to drive there on Saturday, spend two nights there, because of petrol restrictions, and after all it is quite a

distance, and then we were coming back on Monday. In fact, I have time off from the office.' 'So? You were going on Saturday. By we I take it you mean you and Jacqueline?' 'Yes. Who else?' He took her back to La Provence and then phoned her two days later. 'I'll be driving you to see those premises on Saturday,' he told her. 'Oh,' she said, 'so this has been arranged?' 'Yes. I'll pick you up.' When he arrived on the Saturday morning, however, Jacqueline was not with him. 'But where's Jacqueline?' Nikki asked. 'She's not coming. This time she has a tremendous stye and she refuses point-blank to be seen with it, apart from the fact that she has a considerable headache.' 'I see.' After a moment he said, 'Don't you believe me?' 'Of course I do. I just thought perhaps we should leave it for another time.' In a curt dictatorial voice he said, 'Why? You should be in a position to judge this place.' 'Okay,' she said, and felt strangely elated.

'Where are the Dauphines?' he asked. 'They're out,' she answered, showing him into the drawing-room while she went upstairs for her case, which was already packed. 'They went out at the crack of dawn.' She nearly added, thank goodness. The weather was sultry and hazy. The Cape scenery never failed to enchant Nikki, even though she had lived there all her life. The houses in the wine country were all so breathtakingly lovely, with their gables, ' stable doors, shuttered and sashed windows—the mountains haunting somehow ... Looking at Philip in the car, when they were well on the way, Nikki felt herself shiver slightly.

CHAPTER SIX THEY reached the small Cape coastal town before lunch and went straight to the agent's office. 'I'm usually closed on a Saturday,' he told them, 'but you've come a long way and I kept open for you. Leave your car here and we'll drive up in mine.' They drove out to the ancient house which, although white-walled and gabled, was falling apart at the seams and was smelling of dust, mildew and decay. Vines had, at one time or another, been trained up white columns and over a rotten wooden pergola. A natural formation of old lichen on walls helped to establish the mood of days long since departed. 'It could always be done up, of course,' the agent was saying, jangling the keys. 'Look, let me leave these keys with you. You take your time in looking over and then drop them off at my place—here's my card—and by doing this you'll be able to come back and have another look round after you've had a bite of lunch.' He drove them back to his office. 'Take your time,' he said, before he left them. 'There's no hurry.' After they had parted company Philip said, 'It's too late for that.' 'Too late for what?' Nikki asked. 'Too late for hurry. Our agent has missed the boat, I'm afraid. He'll never rent or sell that place again. It's had it.' 'Oh, I don't know. It has potential.' She felt compelled to argue. 'I only wish Jacqueline had come along.' He regarded her with cool eyes. 'Do you really believe it could be done up?'

'Yes. I mean, if your old slave quarters can be done up so can that house.' 'Well, I won't pay for it,' he said. 'And that happens to be the difference. Jacqueline will not be in a position to pay for alterations to that house. You can please yourself, of course. Anyway, let's find a hotel. I think there only happens to be one hotel, anyway.' The Oaks Hotel came as a shock, right from the moment they stepped into the threadbare foyer. From the outside there had been a kind of Cape atmosphere about the place, but the interior was bleak and rundown and it was shabbily furnished. The hotel was, quite obviously, a white elephant in what had once been a flourishing little town which had suddenly found itself off the map and unwanted. The hotel faced the sea, however, on the one side, and the main street on the other. They were shown upstairs and it needed only one look to tell that there were no guests, but judging from the noise coming from one of the bars downstairs the local Coloured fishermen were well on their way to becoming fighting drunk. Taking everything into consideration—the closed grey- white doors leading off the corridor, the threadbare carpets and general appearance of slow decay—the room which was supposed to have been for Nikki and Jacqueline was clean. It was large and had twin beds in it which were covered in floral print to match the curtains and there were eiderdowns. A door, standing half open, led to a private bathroom. The noise of the sea could easily be heard because the windows faced the sea and neglected lawns beneath. Nikki went to lock her door and made the discovery that the key was missing. Philip had been shown to a room across the corridor and about two doors up.

After a few moments Philip knocked on her door to inquire whether she was ready for lunch. Nikki found that her head was suddenly splitting and she felt depressed. The dining-room was, perhaps, the best part of the entire hotel and still retained a certain amount of charm with its big windows overlooking the long veranda, and there were one or two quite good oil paintings on the walls. While the waiter was taking their orders Nikki said, 'You don't appear to have any guests. Is it always like this?' While she looked up at him she was thinking of her door which had no key and of the bar noises, which were easily heard, even in here. 'We have guests when the tourist bus passes through once a week. They make this an overnight stop. Dinner, bed and breakfast.' 'And will the bus be calling today, being Saturday?' She gave him a worried look. 'No, not today. They were here yesterday.' 'I see. May I have a glass of water, please?' Immediately the glass of water was placed in front of her she used it to swallow two pain tablets. 'What are the pills in aid of?' Philip asked. 'I have a headache,' she told him shortly. A little later she said, 'I'm afraid I can't eat my lunch. It'? one of those headaches when you just have to go to bed for a while. It's a nervous headache.'

'What are you nervous about?' His eyes met hers. 'I only used the term for want of a better description,' she said. 'It's a throbbing headache which one always associates with nerves.' 'I see,' he said. 'Finish your lunch,' she told him. 'I know I'll be fine after I've had a little nap. It always pays to do that after taking two of these tablets.' She must have slept longer than she intended to, for when she stirred, the room was almost in darkness. When she got up she washed her face and then creamed it and later applied her makeup. Then she went in search of Philip and found him on the veranda overlooking the sea, which was going wild. He stood up. 'So? Feeling better?' 'Quite better. I just went on sleeping, I'm sorry. Anyway, it seems to have done me good.' 'Why should you be sorry?' he asked, when they were both seated. 'Well, we were to view the premises again.' 'I'm not viewing them again,' he replied. 'I'll drive you there tomorrow, if you wish, but I'm not interested.' He ordered drinks. They listened to the sea. It was high tide and the waves were dashing themselves to pieces against the rocks. They could hear the noise coming from the bar at one end of the long veranda and a surge of fright went through Nikki. There appeared to be a fight brewing. They were so alone here, she thought.

'The weekend, for our drinking friends, has begun,' said Philip. 'God help their wives tonight. These men drink to get fighting drunk. They're possibly drinking your Uncle Johanne's scandal wine.' 'I don't think he'd be too pleased to hear it being referred to as scandal wine. It's merely a cheap wine,' Nikki replied. Apart from the sea noises and the din coming from the bar the loneliness moved in from the sea and the mountains. They finished their drinks and Philip said, 'Let's walk before dinner and then afterwards, if you're in luck and the water happens to be hot, you can have a bath before dinner.' He stood up and waited for her and, apprehensively, Nikki looked down the length of the veranda in the direction of masculine voices raised in bawdy song and laughter, punctuated by argumentative cursing. 'Where would we walk to?' she asked. 'Along the beach—not far. It will blow the cobwebs away.' When they had left La Provence the weather had been sultry and hazy and now, in this part of the Cape, it looked stormy although there was a spectacular sunset. For a while they walked in silence and the wind whipped at Nikki's shoulder-length tawny hair. She could feel her face and arms becoming damp from sea-spray. 'There's one thing about this whole set-up, Nikki, that I can't understand,' Philip said, breaking the silence. 'Oh—and what's that?' She turned her head to look at him. 'Why were you so determined to look at this place? Surely you must have known nothing could come of it? Apart from the

scenery and the sea there's nothing here at Oakleigh. Even the town looks deserted. It's just a has- been. I've offered you Chardonnay.' 'I wanted to see it because it was only fair that I should see it. After all, I have my pocket to consider. I also wanted to convince you that I have a mind of my own.' There was a sudden flash of lightning and Philip stopped walking. 'We'd better turn back,' he said. 'There's going to be one hell of a storm, by the looks of things.' He spoke with the male pleasure of excitement. As they walked along the beach towards the hotel Nikki kept her head down against the wind and he took her arm. 'I can manage,' she said, coolly, although she found herself thrilling to his touch. 'Just as you like.' 'It's strange,' she observed, looking at him, 'before I got to know you I had everything cut and dried, and now all I seem to do is to answer to you for my actions. It just doesn't make sense.' 'So I've brought a certain disorder into your life?' 'Yes, you have.' She stopped walking and the wind tore at her hair and plastered it against her face. She shook it back. 'It's not up to you to make stipulations. If I want to start a finishing school. I'll start one where and when I like. The whole idea was mine, as it happens. It's up to Jacqueline to decide whether she wants to continue with me. It's not a case of my falling in with whatever you and Jacqueline have to say.' She was not sure whether she was pleased or sorry that she had said this, and when her anger had passed a little she said, 'Nevertheless, I would like us to do it together—without interference from you.'

'Without interference from me?' She saw that he was also angry now. 'I have to interfere, Nikki, for the very simple reason that what Jacqueline happens to have in the line of ready capital is very slim. If she requires more money, which she certainly will do, it will have to come from me. I shall have to endorse it. If you both carry on with this scheme, it will take money—a whole lot of money. That's why I'm offering you the old slave quarters at Chardonnay, for if the finishing school fails, there will be something there to salvage. You see, I've got it all worked out.' He grinned suddenly. 'And you're hoping it will fail, aren't you?' The wind made her skin tingle. She didn't want to look at him. She didn't want to care about him and she started to walk away from him, but he caught her wrist and halted her. 'Nikki.' 'I don't want to listen,' she said. 'In that case, don't let me hold you up,' he replied. 'If you want to open a finishing school where and when you like, go ahead—but, unless it happens to be at Chardonnay, you will do so alone. Have I made myself clear?' 'Quite clear.' Her eyes went to his fingers on her wrist and he released his grip on her. When they got back to the hotel there was still laughter and highpitched male giggles coming from the drink-soaked fishermen, and the feelings which had been knotting inside Nikki suddenly gave way to panic. She intended asking for a key to her door directly she left Philip! The storm clouds had lost the colour from the sun and were curling and rolling about the sky. They could smell the rain, which in

different circumstances could have been wonderful. The lightning seemed to have slackened away, however. 'Join me in a drink before you go upstairs,' Philip said. 'I think I'll go and bath and change first,' she said, 'and then I'll join you before dinner.' The idea of bathing and changing for dinner, in this place, was laughable, she thought, although she had packed a quite simple, but stunning, long floral skirt and black body-shirt. 'Okay, if that's how you want it, but I'm going to have one, here and now.' He gestured towards the veranda, which was catching the wind and sea noises. Nikki left him and went through to the foyer where the dry arrangements in the vases had all the mustiness of old stuffed owls. In view of the fact that she had been unable to lock her room she was afraid to go into it. There had been no one behind the desk and so she had been unable to ask for a key. The room was right at the end of the dark corridor, near to a cement staircase which obviously led down to the kitchen area beneath—probably for service purposes. She went to stand there so that she could look over the wall into what certainly was part of that section of the hotel. There was a small wooden table littered with onions and potatoes and, on top of these, there was an open plastic bag which contained a pair of black shoes. From here the noise of the bar filtered up and mingled with more male voices in the part of the kitchen which she could not see. Going to her room, she opened the door cautiously and then turned on the light and peered in, and when she had convinced herself that there was nobody inside she went in and closed the door. Her eyes

went to one of the bedside tables and she lifted the lamp from it and took the table to the door. Then she pushed it against the door. The fact that there was a key to her bathroom came as a relief and she hoped that this key would fit the main door, but, on trying it, she discovered that it didn't. However, she was thankful to be able to lock the bathroom door, and, unexpectedly, the water was hot and the bath was clean. Lying in the water she began to feel depression leaking through her tiredness and knew that she was going to be in for a bad time so far as spending the night alone in the adjoining room was concerned. Had she been able to lock her door she would have felt comparatively safe. Now, however, she felt on edge and hated the idea of being alone here. She decided to wear the floral skirt and body-shirt, seeing that she had intended to wear it in the first place, and then she went downstairs to the foyer. This time the manager was there. 'Is there a key to number twelve?' she asked. 'If so, might I have it?' He immediately had a fit of coughing and she stood waiting on it to finish. 'I'm sorry,' he still went on spluttering, 'but we don't have a key. Half the keys in the place are missing—the whole damned lot, I think. But you'll be quite safe here, lady. The bus passes through here once a week, and we've had no trouble. We've been the victim of petty theft, so far as keys are concerned. Don't ask me why people want to steal keys and teaspoons, but there you have it, they do. I've stopped having keys made now. It's useless.' 'I see.' Nikki resented being called lady. 'You'll be perfectly safe,' he told her. 'We have no trouble here. You don't want to take any notice of that noise going on there. The boys always give it a bang when they get back—fishing, you

know. And by the way, talking of boys, your boy-friend is on the stoep.' Seething, she turned away. It was dark now and the sea was rushing in towards the shore— just a black noise. Philip stood up and pulled back a chair and Nikki sank into it and shivered a little. Although it wasn't cold, she felt chilled. 'It seemed better out here than in that lounge back there,' Philip told her. 'The storm is still fooling around —but I guess it will break some time in the night.' 'It is better out here,' she answered. 'It's better than sitting in the lounge with the stuffed owls.' He grinned. 'Are there stuffed owls? I didn't see them.' 'The dried floral arrangements look and smell like stuffed owls,' she said. In the light coming from the dining-room windows and french doors, which overlooked the veranda, she could see his sexy blue-green eyes going over her. She knew that she wanted him to touch her and to go on touching her. While she tried to get a grip on her thoughts he was saying, 'I guess they should be honoured, since we've both changed for dinner.' He was wearing a dark suit. 'We'll sit out here until the storm chases us inside and then we'll go in and have a leisurely dinner, if they don't kick us out, and after that ... well,' he shrugged, 'your guess is as good as mine.' While they had. their drinks the clouds were lit up by gold threadlike lightning and the trees on the lawns, which stretched down to the beach, struggled futilely against the wind. The bar noises had increased, if anything.

'They still haven't lifted up,' Philip said. 'In fact just before you arrived a fight seemed to be brewing. These Coloured fishermen are a tough bunch, by the sound of things. There's one, I noticed, who seems to be called Skipper. He appears to be the big hero.' 'I wish they'd break it up and go home,' Nikki sighed, 'and leave us in peace.' She was thinking along the lines that if a fight broke out Philip might be involved in an attempt to protect her. The wild scene before them possessed a remote and strange beauty. One could just make out the waves as they curled over and dashed themselves into white luminous fragments. The trees strained against the wind like maidens being seduced and above them the clouds were being lit up, at regular intervals, by the gold lightning. Nikki glanced around. The veranda had considerable charm, which the rest of the hotel lacked. It was wide and spacious, overlooked the beach and sea and was furnished with white-painted chairs and tables. In its heyday, the hotel must have had considerable atmosphere and then, one day, this part of the Cape coastline had just become unpopular for some reason or another, and, except for the bus which passed through with tourists, people stopped coming here. It was a sad thought, because the little town was steeped in its own particular history. Philip ordered more drinks and she sat studying him. Why did she think of him so much? Who was Amber Graham? Her lashes flickered and she dropped them, feeling ruffled and confused. A little later he said, 'Well, because one thing leads to another, I guess we'd better go in and eat.' 'Fine.' She gave him a steady look. 'I wish the storm would break and get it over and done with. I'm not partial to storms, especially

at night when I'm alone.' Now, why had she said that? She put her teeth on her Up. 'It's going round in circles,' he told her, 'like you, Nikki.' 'Like me? I'm not going round in circles.' 'No?' 'No. Just because I happened to want to see the premises here at Oakleigh it doesn't signify that I'm going round in circles.' 'And then there was the Johannesburg business.' 'But I didn't go there, did I?' 'Why didn't you? Why didn't you take this offer further, that is?' 'That's my affair.' She stood up and waited for him. They were the only people eating and there was something absolutely uncanny about being the only overnight guests in a shabby hotel. The room was harshly lit and when the waiter put in an appearance, wearing a red fez and cummerbund to crown everything—a reminder of better days—Philip said, 'Are you expecting other guests?' 'No, sir. We only have guests on the nights when the tourist bus stops here.' 'But what about permanent guests?' 'We have just two, sir, a man and his son. They have already eaten.' 'I see. In that case would you mind bringing a candle?

Put it in a bottle if need be and after you've lit it, put out the other lights. We certainly don't need them.' When the candle was flickering on top of a green wine bottle and the lights had been put out the atmosphere of the entire room was softened and it regained a little of the dignity which it had lost over the years. 'That's better,' said Philip, looking at Nikki. 'What do you say?' 'Yes, much better, except for the lightning, of course.' 'Forget about the lightning,' he answered shortly. 'Think about us, instead.' 'What about us?' She wanted to know very much, but he shrugged, almost carelessly, and laughed softly. 'Oh ... about how much I want you, maybe. But you have your reputation to think of, of course, with the Dauphines.' 'Really?' Her voice sounded unreal to herself. 'I'm not afraid of a ruined reputation, as it so happens. I mean so far as the Dauphines are considered.' 'No? What then?' His eyes held hers. 'Well, quite apart from the fact that my reputation isn't in danger right now, I know enough to realise that when a man gets what he wants, he's not so sure it's what he wanted, anyway. The Women's Lib movement has reduced the ideal of virginity, but that doesn't mean I don't want to go on being a virgin until I marry.' 'But sexual excitement and satisfaction grows with experience, Nikki. Don't you want—satisfaction—on your wedding night?'

'I have very definite ideas on the subject of my wedding night, Philip, but I don't intend to discuss them with you. Now, would you mind if we changed the subject?' She looked away, but out of the corner of her eye she saw him smile faintly. Surprisingly enough, the food was good—simple but good. Nikki discovered that she was hungry. While they ate, the lightning helped itself to the darkness beyond the candlelit table, lighting up the entire room at intervals which were becoming less frequent now. The rumble of thunder was threatening to the senses. A little later they heard the flurry of rain against the windows which were not facing the veranda. Nikki flinched at one loud clap which was immediately followed by lightning. 'Forget about the lightning,' said Philip, and added more wine to her glass and its soul was trapped there. Over the licking orange flame, which was like a tiny tongue darting this way and that, they looked questioningly at one another. Nikki's mouth went dry. Don't try anything with me, she found herself thinking wildly, because if you do I'm not going to be able to say no, and knowing you as I think I do, you'll despise me for it— later. She'd always known she had had a fastidiousness that precluded heavy necking sessions—but she found herself thinking even beyond that. The Coloured fishermen, who knew every change in tide and current but still were subjected to the very real danger of the sea and had often, no doubt, seen a friend or friends swept away, could be heard through the open windows and french doors. 'Oh, I wish they'd shut up,' Nikki's nerves felt suddenly naked. 'Surely they must have homes close by?' 'And women waiting, lucky devils!'

'Waiting, perhaps, but that doesn't mean willing.' Her voice was full of heat. When they had finished dinner they went through to the badly-lit lounge because the intensity of the storm, by this time, prohibited them from sitting on the veranda. Nikki found herself gazing round the unimaginative decor. If her virginity was in danger, she found herself thinking, what a place in which to part with it! Her eyes went quickly to Philip. 'Have another drink.' He seemed to be sensing her thoughts and he smiled faintly, his eyes not letting go of hers. 'No.' Suddenly she felt depressed. The thought of the room without a key depressed her and the idea of being in it, alone, while the storm played havoc with her already tense nerves aggravated the position. They went outside to look at the weather. At intervals the blackness was lit up by the lightning and revealed the shapes of the trees. The rain was not quite as heavy as it had been, though. Here on the veranda they could hear that a brawl had started in the pub. 'That had to happen, I suppose,' Philip said. 'Come, I'll see you to your room.' When they were at her door he said, 'Give me your key and I'll unlock the door for you.' 'It's not locked,' she told him. He turned the handle. 'Okay, Nikki.' He sounded oddly polite, but his eyes were questioning.

'Are you going to your room now?' she asked. 'No. I'm going back downstairs to the other pub. I'll have a chat to the barman there, and then I'll call it a day. Why do you ask?' 'Nothing ... I just wondered.' She went into the room and turned on the light. 'Well, goodnight.' 'Sleep well,' he said. Suddenly she found herself saying, 'I wish I hadn't come to this damn place.' 'Why?' 'Well, I find you completely baffling—apart from everything else ... this hotel and those useless premises we looked at.' He put out a hand and caught hold of her wrist, then he kissed her and she felt diminished by it because it seemed insulting—nothing else. 'Is that what you want?' he asked in a hard voice. Her body had immediately responded with an inner twist that was almost like a physical blow, but she broke away from him. 'No, it isn't—but it's what you want, isn't it?' For several minutes after she had closed the door she sat on one of the beds just staring into space and listening to the thunder and the rain. Even up here, she could hear raised voices coming up the stairwell near her room, as the kitchen was being cleaned down for the next day. She got up and dragged the table back against the door and then she put a chair on top of the table. It would at least make a noise if the door happened to be pushed open during the night while she slept—if she slept, she thought.

There wasn't even a magazine to read, she thought, and was thankful that she had slipped a light novel into her case. Eventually, though, she had to put out the light and, eventually, she put it back on again. Getting out of bed, she carried her case through to the bathroom and then she came back for her handbag and eiderdown. When she was back in the bathroom she dried the bath out with a towel and locked the door before wrapping the eiderdown around her. She stepped into the bath and tried to make herself comfortable. The window was uncurtained, of course, although the glass was obscured and the lightning kept lighting up the small room, so she got out of the bath and put the light on, then got back into the bath and settled herself. There was the distasteful smell of drains, so she climbed out of the bath and put the plug into the basin and closed the lid of the toilet, and as she was getting back into the bath she said, 'Oh, to hell with this!' and went back into the room. She awakened from an uneasy sleep. To see was suddenly important. She wasn't quite sure what had disturbed her, but she thought that it must have been footsteps. The storm seemed to have lifted, but she could hear a thin rain falling. Her confidence was renewed when she saw that the windows and curtains were as she had left them and the door closed and protected by the table. However, she slipped out of bed and she was lifting the second chair on to the table when she dropped it. After the crash the result was almost immediate. 'Nikki,' called Phillip, outside in the corridor and banging on her door, 'what the devil's going on? Open the door!'

'Just a moment,' she said, and then when the door was open she saw him standing there, stripped to the waist, and she gave him a kind of drowned look. It suddenly struck her that she was wearing only a short nightdress—and fairly transparent at that, and she saw his bluegreen eyes going over her before he came into the room. 'There is no key,' she pointed out as he glanced at the table and chairs. 'I— was nervous.' 'Why the devil didn't you tell me?' he asked. 'I'd have made inquiries about getting one—or having your room changed.' 'I did make inquiries.' As casually as she could, she turned away from him and went to her gown and shrugged into it. Then she turned. 'There's no key. Apparently most of the keys have been stolen. Have you a key?' Her voice was slightly on edge and tinged with sarcasm. 'No, I haven't, but that's beside the point. A key doesn't mean as much to me as it does to you.' 'What is the time?' she asked, and watched him as he glanced at his wrist-watch. His wrist was tanned and a little on the hairy side, like his chest and his stomach. Nikki tried to stop her eyes from going there. 'It's nearly one,' he told her. He was wearing dark blue pyjama pants. 'A—and they're still going on,' she said, 'downstairs in the garden, fighting, by the sound of things.' 'Yes. They're a bunch of potential wife-beaters. With that particular type it's an accepted part of life ... A knife fight is

nothing unusual when they get going. That's why I brought you up here early, as a matter of fact. I could sense trouble. Get back into bed, Nikki. I'll just go and close my door and get what money I have there and I'll spend the rest of the night here.' 'I'd have been nervous even with a key,' she told him. 'I've just hated this. My bathroom does have a key. I tried sleeping in the bath with an eiderdown, but couldn't stand the smell of the drains.' 'Okay,' he said. 'In the morning, we'll leave, Nikki, and find another place somewhere, until the petrol stations open on Monday morning.' After he had gone she got out of her gown and slipped back into bed and when the door opened again her green eyes flew to it. 'Okay,' he said, 'relax, Nikki. I don't charge for baby-sitting.' 'I'm not a baby,' she said. 'You can't blame me for being nervous in this place.' She watched him pull back the bedcovers of the other bed and then his eyes met hers. 'Did you think I'd doze in a chair, Nikki?' He sounded both irritated and amused. 'No. You're very welcome to the spare bed.' 'But not to your bed. Is that it?' 'Not to my bed.' For a while he lay back, with his hands crossed behind his head. Outside, somebody was shouting, 'Pass the bottle, kerels,' and somebody else played a concertina. Then, without saying anything, Philip reached out to the lamp which she had placed on the floor between the beds, and switched it off. The voices below died down

and it was suddenly very quiet, except for water noises and the rain. A little later somebody tried dismally to start a car and then a bottle was thrown against a wall and it exploded. There was a flare-up of voices and some very bad language. 'Philip?' Nikki's voice was taut. 'Are you awake?' 'Yes. I don't drop off that easily, even at the best Of times.' 'Now you can see why I was nervous,' she said. 'Your room is on the opposite side, so you haven't heard half of what has been going on down there. It woke me up.' The car below would not start, but somebody kept on urging it to nevertheless, and Nikki listened to that complaining motor. 'Thank you for moving in,' she said softly. 'Philip?' 'It's all part of the service,' he answered. 'Put it down to business expenses, Nikki.' She closed her eyes. There had been a kind of anger at the back of his words. Downstairs, the car went on and on, complaining. Somebody yelled out, 'Come on, Skipper man!' and then, eventually, the engine kicked over and began running which went on for long minutes. Nikki felt her eyelids begin to droop. She felt desperately tired. Eventually she was aware of the fact that the car had driven off. Somebody, very drunk, was behind that wheel. Francois had been drinking on the night of the accident. Uncle Johanne hadn't known—not many people had known. Felix had been the one to break the news. Poor Uncle Johanne. He still didn't know ...

When she began screaming she knew that she'd been asleep and that she'd had the dream—ignited, no doubt, by the car which had gone on revving for long minutes before being driven away into the blackness. The dream always ended in thin wailing screams which dragged her back from sleep. In the dream she was always in the car, but where Francois should have been sitting there was no one—just the steering wheel, moving, and the empty seat next to her. For a moment she wondered where she was, and then moaned, 'Oh, noooo ... nooo ... Felix ...!' It had been Felix who had broken the news to them that night about François ... 'Nikki?' She felt the bed move. 'No,' she said, 'not that—Felix ...' 'What are you trying to do to me? Scare me out of my wits?' Philip asked. 'Nikki?' 'I've been dreaming,' she said in a low voice, 'I'm all right now. I'm—sorry.' He bent down and put the light on and then he pushed back the curtains of her hair from her face. Their eyes met and, as she came back to reality, there was nothing casual in the look. When his lips met hers her first reaction was of resentment that it should be happening after the dream and that it should be happening here in this threadbare hotel with the

offensive drains, but all this was drowned by the surge of desire which took her breath away and she shivered, beyond caring. After a while he said, 'You'd better know what you're doing, Nikki.' He spoke against her mouth, his breath mingling with hers. 'Do you?' Part of her mind was trying to analyse what he was going to think of her afterwards and something told her that he was sizing her up, even as he strained her to him. Her mouth parted and she found herself responding to clues of her own body—not to pressure from him. She wanted to feel the shock of waves of his love- making— she wanted him ... 'Yes,' she whispered. 'Yes, I do ...' She strained her body to him. The man who staggered drunkenly into the room, switching on the overhead light as he did so, swore loudly. It was something like a horror film or a situation comedy, Nikki thought stupidly as Philip unfolded himself swiftly and leapt from the bed. 'What the hell do you think you're doing in here?' he asked. 'What do you mean—what the hell do I think I'm doing in here, buddy?' The other man's face was hostile and he was dirty in his drunkenness. His bleary eyes went to Nikki. 'I might ask you the same question, buddy—ma'am, since this happens to be my room. I'm the skipper of the fishing fieet. I own those two boats out there, mister.' 'This happens to be my—our room,' said Philip. 'You're in the wrong room. Will you kindly get out?' 'I will not get out. It's a standing arrangement, buddy. I always have this room. I want my suit—I have a flask of brandy in the pocket. Mind out of my way. I want that bottle. In case you don't

know, mister, the pub's closed and I want to take some booze along to Millie's. I'm on my way there now.' 'The pub should be closed,' Philip said. 'Are you aware of the time?' 'Look, don't give me that. Give me my suit, damn it. My bottle's in there. I want to take it to Millie's.' Before Philip could stop him the skipper moved towards the wardrobe and flung it open and they could see the suit hanging there. Nikki, who hadn't bothered to unpack, had not opened the doors. 'Well, do I begin to make myself known?' The skipper's tone was sneering. 'This room happens to be reserved for yours truly when the fleet's in, buster. Who the hell gave you two permission to use it, anyway?' 'I was shown to this room by a porter,' Nikki said, and was sorry she had spoken, for the skipper's bleary eyes went over her and she saw the lust spring to life. 'Well, I wish I'd known,' he said, leering, 'and I'd have been up much sooner.' 'Take your bottle and beat it,' snapped Philip. 'You'll have your room when we're ready to hand it over.' 'Leave the lady there,' said the skipper, as he went on looking at Nikki. 'I guess I can learn to live with her in the same room when I get back from Millie's.' He laughed. 'But with me, old Millie comes first.' 'Get out!' Philip snarled, and then practically threw the man out.

'Get your things together,' he ordered, looking at Nikki. 'You're coming to my room. Some people never win the battle of the bottle, I'm afraid.' With angry humiliation Nikki muttered, 'This is like a nightmare!' She got out of bed and reached for her gown and knew that she was shivering. When they were in the corridor she said, 'Since the hotel is empty I can take my choice.' She opened the door next to Philip's. 'If he comes again, I'll scream—so don't worry about me.' 'I don't want you in here alone,' he said. 'You'll come to my room, where I can keep an eye on you.' 'No,' she said, 'I've had enough. I'm going in here.' 'In that case,' he said coldly, 'you know where to find me, Nikki— but somehow I don't think he'll be back.' She lay on top of the bed in the room next to his, just with the eiderdown over her, and listened to the rain which was coming down hard again. What a sordid affair, she thought miserably. In the morning, while they were having breakfast, she said, 'Did you mean it, last night, about leaving? I've had enough of this place—even though, being Sunday, the pub is closed.' Their table was near the windows and beyond the veranda the sea stretched away to the horizon. The rain had stopped, but it was suddenly cold. 'I did mean it,' Philip told her. 'We'll push on to the next little town and find a place, and then on Monday morning we can begin to hit

the breeze for home. It's just a case of waiting for the petrol stations to open on Monday.' 'Thank you,' she said, and looked away. She thought of Amber Graham waiting for him, and jealousy reared its ugly head. 'Let's hope the next place has a key,' he said, and there was a hard note to his voice. 'I've hated every moment of this,' she muttered. 'Have you? But you must admit it's had its moments.' 'I've hated it,' she repeated. 'I think what it really amounts to, Nikki, is that you're not quite sure.' His tone was mocking now, but his blue- green eyes insisted that she look at him. 'I think what you're trying to get across is that I was in danger of gaining experience for my—wedding night, is that it?' Her voice and her grape-green eyes were angry. 'You know, you did mention that sexual excitement and satisfaction grows with experience and I did confess that I had none—to speak of, anyway.' 'What was so dangerous about it, Nikki? You seemed as sure as any girl could be that the experience was welcome.' 'There's a cold, cold streak in you, Philip. Like your forebears. A slave girl to suit your means would have suited you down to the ground.' They left the hotel soon after breakfast and were quiet in the car. The straining bodies and demanding kisses were in the past—for him, anyway, Nikki thought bitterly.

They took the keys back to the agent. 'The premises are unsuitable,' Philip told him. 'Thank you for your trouble.' The next hotel was comfortable and in good taste and there was a smattering of guests. After watching a travelogue film show at night, they went to their rooms and Nikki lay awake a long time, brooding on what had happened over the past few hours. When she awoke in the 'morning the weather had cleared and a magnificent sunrise flared across the sky. From her window she could see the pool which looked like splintered sapphires. Well, she thought, their little show was over. Philip dropped her off at La Provence. Nikki had given Uncle Johanne no reason as to why she had asked for the day off, except to say that she was going away for the weekend and, because of petrol restrictions, would not be able to get back until Monday sometime. 'I'll leave the first move to you,' said Philip. 'You can think about my offer about converting the old slave quarters and let me know the verdict.' 'I can let you know now,' she replied, on the spur of the moment. He looked at her. 'Oh?' 'Yes. Johannesburg is out. Oakleigh is out and that leaves Chardonnay, which is exactly what you wanted, isn't it, seeing that the finishing school involves your sister?' 'Fine.' His face showed nothing. 'I'll have plans drawn up as soon as possible. You will leave here directly they will release you from your position—that is before work even starts on the slave quarters. Accommodation awaits you at Chardonnay.'

'I see.' Her eyes flickered. 'I don't think you're sure,' he said. 'Perhaps you're thinking about Uncle Johanne?' 'I'll come to terms with Uncle Johanne—and with myself,' she replied. 'I'm free to please myself, anyway.' 'Sometimes I wonder.' His tone was sarcastic. 'However, Nikki, since you've come to a decision regarding the finishing school being at Chardonnay and this not only involves Jacqueline but me, I have this one stipulation to make, and that is you move to Chardonnay within a reasonable period—before work begins on the slave quarters. That is, before, or soon after, the plans have been passed. Before, I think, in view of the fact that your presence will often be needed.' 'You're so bossy,' she told him, before walking away from the car. 'I'll work things my way.' It was obvious that Uncle Johanne had no intention of releasing her from La Provence without putting up a fight. 'I thought you were happy here?' he asked. Nikki felt suffocated. 'I am. I just have to do this thing, though, Uncle Johanne. Having been to the finishing school I now realise that what I want to do is to open one of my own.' She could not tell him the real reason—that she wanted to get away from the Dauphines and that she wanted to go to Chardonnay where she could be near to Philip de Berg. 'I always hoped,' Uncle Johanne was saying, 'that you and Felix— that is, after Francois was killed ... you and Felix…'

At first she had known a great pity for him, but later she knew something like impatience. It was not right for Johanne Dauphine to meddle in such affairs.

At this particular time Felix was away on a business trip, much to her relief, and by the time she had worked her notice and had moved to Chardonnay he would just be arriving back. Eventually the nightmare was over—for it had been a nightmare packing up and leaving La Provence and being invaded by guilt. Uncle Johanne had seen to that! Nikki even found herself wondering what had inspired the friendship between Johanne Dauphine and her father, for Uncle Johanne was often petty in the days to come, whereas Etienne de Mist had never shown that streak in his make-up. Although Jacqueline knew the date of her arrival Nikki thought fit to phone Philip, and tried to control the excitement she was feeling now. 'I've finished working my notice here at La Provence,' she said. 'Jacqueline says it's convenient for me to move to Chardonnay— but I just wondered ..she lifted her shoulder. 'When will it be convenient for you?' 'Tomorrow.' His voice was cool. 'Do you need help in moving, by the way?' 'No, I haven't much. What I do have will fit into my car.' 'Fair enough. Tomorrow, then.' He rang off.

And then she was on her way, and such things as serious winetastings, where there had to be nothing to distract, no noise or bad light, no interruptions which made serious tasting difficult, even impossible, were over. Philip was there when she went into the foyer to look for him. His eyes went over her briefly. 'I'll be with you in a moment,' he told her, 'I just have to put through a quick phone call.' When he was finished he said, 'Jacqueline is out. She should have been here to help get you settled in, but there you have it. Pleasure comes first with her, and since she's out with a man, I take it that it must be pleasure. Everything is ready waiting for you. I'll show you where you're to hang out.' On the way, as they crossed the tree-shaded and paved courtyard, to the guest accommodation on the other side from the romantic main house which had once been the focal point of a bustling vineyard, he said. 'So? This must be a bitter blow to Johanne Dauphine, Nikki de Mist. After all he's done for you.' The tone of his voice was sarcastic. 'And of course, he was still busy doing all he could to see you permanently settled at La Provence.' 'I refuse to talk about it,' she turned to look at him. 'I once remarked to you that I owed a certain loyalty to the Dauphines— and that still stands.' 'One thing, though. What did son Felix have to say about all this?' 'Son Felix wasn't there.' She was pleased to be able to pass on this piece of information. 'He happens to be away on business. In any case, it has nothing to do with him.' 'Let's keep it that way, then. I don't want him hanging about here.'

She stopped walking and looked at him. 'I hope you don't imagine that you're going to have any say in the matter of who visits me here and who doesn't? I'll be paying my way here, in other words I'll be a guest here and I expect to be treated as such. Later on, I shall be paying my share of the rent towards the converted slave quarters.' 'I haven't got time to argue right now.' He began to walk on. 'Let me show you to your rooms so that you can settle in and kick your shoes off.' After a moment, Nikki followed him and was surprised to discover that she was to have one of the guest suites which led off the long paved veranda of the slave quarters which had already been converted. 'In here,' said Philip, and she followed him into the cool and spacious room where the furniture was white- painted cane. There were twin beds which were covered in dusky pink velvet with white fringing. A long and low white chest, with twin lamps, divided the beds and there was a fluffy white carpet on the floor. Flowers were everywhere, but then she had noticed before that this seemed to be the policy of Chardonnay. It was difficult to believe that these thick white-walled rooms, with their glass doors and windows with pinned-back louvred shutters, had once been dark and dismal slave quarters such a long time ago. 'You should be comfortable here, I think,' Philip said. 'The extra bed is for show, by the way.' 'Really? I don't see it that way. If I want to accommodate a friend in my room I shall do so.' 'In that case I'll have the bed taken out.' His eyes were mocking.

'You do that and I leave,' she told him. 'You have every right in the world to control your sister, but you have no say over me—except to collect the rent.' 'Oh, yes?' His voice seemed suddenly empty of interest, but then he added on a hard note, 'We'll see about that, Nikki. I'll have your luggage carried inside for you, but first of all, bring your car round and park it outside. We'll arrange about a garage for you later. In the meantime, you can park it right outside your door.' Nikki dropped her bag on to one of the white, intricately patterned cast-iron chairs which had cushions to match the bedspreads. Then she picked it up and placed it on the round cast-iron table. She found that her hands were shaking with disappointment and anger. Philip took her arm possessively. 'Let me show you around,' he said. 'You've already shown me around the rooms next door,' she told him, but he ignored her. 'By the way,' he said, 'over there beneath the curtain of the vanity there's a built-in stereo set.' 'That's fine,' she said, in a hard little voice. 'I might need it when I give a small party for a few chosen friends. The walls are thick enough, you must agree. I shan't disturb anyone.' 'We'll see about that too,' he replied, and led her through into a kind of hall which had a striking black and white tiled floor. This was, he told her, really a dressing-room with white louvred cupboards and a long mirror. On one side of the white wall there was an open network design with more grille-work in cast iron. It was rather exciting, somehow, and it also formed an interlude between the bedroom and a small lounge where a huge silver altar

candelabrum, converted into a lamp with pink and white shades, stood on a white table with two drawers. It was all very elegant, right from a huge divan covered in dusky-pink and white striped material and given interest by masses of white and pink cushions, to more white cast-iron chairs which were low and comfortable and thickly cushioned. French doors opened out to a private paved patio, where there was a small tree—its delicate leafbuds as ethereal as an Oriental painting. 'Your bathroom,' said Philip, and stood back for her to stand beside him in the doorway. 'Thank you. I'm going to love it here,' she felt compelled to say. Although the rooms were done out in pink and white the result was sophisticated and this was, she knew, because of the dusky tone of the pink. 'There are keys,' he went on, 'to both exterior doors. They'll come in useful both ways, to lock you in and to lock others out.' 'You're enjoying yourself, aren't you?' She moved away from him. 'Where is Jacqueline going to be?' 'She will remain where she is—in the main house with me, where I can keep an eye on her. I preferred that you should be on your own here. It will make my visiting you easier.' 'So you intend visiting me?' She tried to keep her voice indifferent and then caught her breath a little and held it while he tilted her chin with his fingers and looked into her eyes. 'What do you think, Nikki? We still have something to prove—you and I, Nikki de Mist.'

As she gazed back at him her eyes were very jewel-like and very green. Philip stepped back and stood with his thumbs hooked into the well-cut jeans he was wearing with a short denim jacket to match, and surveyed her. 'Welcome to Chardonnay,' he said. 'May your stay be a long and rewarding one. That would serve my need beautifully.' He dropped his hands suddenly from the waistband of his jeans and reached out for her, and as he drew her towards him Nikki found herself following the dictates of her body. His body against her own was everything she desired and she knew it, with a helpless surge of wanting him. Her lashes came down and she felt herself sinking swiftly through what seemed to be like fourteen floors of a building. Against his mouth she sighed. 'Whatever makes you respond to me like this, Nikki, is certainly ..He broke off and released her quickly as a Coloured maid came through with a pile of fluffy purple towels in her arms. 'Oh,' she said, 'I didn't know dere was anybody here, Mr de Berg. Dere was no car outside and de door was open and I thought de room was being dusted, or something.' 'That's all right,' Philip said easily, 'it's no problem. Go ahead.' To Nikki he said, 'Directly Jacqueline gets in I'll tell her that a de Mist has joined forces with the de Bergs. That, to me, makes sense, Nikki.'

CHAPTER SEVEN NIKKI settled in and Jacqueline was mostly out. Nikki began to worry. She found herself having to consult with Philip about plans for the finishing school, when it was Jacqueline she should have been talking to. However, Jacqueline showed great interest in working out an advertising campaign, but after that, she seemed to lose interest again. 'There's not much we can do now,' she kept saying. 'We'll have to get cracking after the builders have finished work.' Often Nikki wondered whether she was going to be landed with a finishing school at Chardonnay. The old slave quarters were, nevertheless, taking shape. One afternoon she visited them with Philip after the builders had packed up for the day. Since the time when he had shown her to her rooms and taken her into his arms he had left her alone. He seemed to sense that she was strung up and worried. 'It's becoming increasingly difficult to believe that people lived and suffered here,' she said to Philip, 'the entire place seems so light and carefree.' He was silent for a moment and then he said, 'The slaves at Chardonnay, Nikki, from what I can gather, weren't so badly off, as a whole. According to the records they were given a weekly ration of tobacco and small lots bf land on the estate, for their own use. The men were also given a tot of brandy along with their food.' 'I see,' she murmured. As usual, she was conscious of his nearness. Suddenly he said, 'Tell me, are you missing La Provence?'

'No,' she said. 'And its occupants?' 'I'd be callous, if I didn't—think of them.' 'You haven't answered my question.' 'I think I have.' 'Is son Felix back?' He spoke carelessly, she thought, and felt cheated. 'Yes. He got back soon after I left there.' 'Perhaps he's visited you here at night?' 'Perhaps,' she replied, just as carelessly. His eyes went over her. 'You're looking very Nikki-ish.' She was wearing a flame-coloured silk shirt with cream slacks. 'But to get back to our conversation. What do you mean—perhaps? Either he has or he hasn't.' Suddenly he caught her to him, and she looked back at him with the wide green eyes of an angry cat. 'Stop trying to tamper with my feelings!' 'I knew you had them,' he looked down into her eyes. 'You never want to admit to it, though, do you?' She watched his blue-green eyes go to her lips and then he bent his head and put his lips to her throat and then, nearer down where the top buttons of her bodyshirt had been fashionably left undone, the wide collar framing her

face. He used one hand to push back her hair and then transferred it to the small of her back where he increased the pressure. 'Don't!' she said sharply. 'Why not, Nikki?' He went on kissing her throat, down to the secret places below, which suddenly weren't secret places any more. She broke away from him, her eyes blazing. 'What are you trying to prove?' she asked. 'Come here, Nikki. I—really want you so much ...' He drew her back into his arms and she rested against him, permitting him to take charge of everything and knew the authority of his hands as they went up beneath the flame silk shirt, making it so wonderful to be a woman. Straining herself against him, she dismissed the thought that he might hate her afterwards. 'Didn't they teach you discipline,' he said against her mouth, 'at the finishing school, Nikki?' He released her and did the buttons of her shirt right up to beneath her chin. 'This is something like winetasting,' he went on, and his eyes were mocking. 'It's like learning how to read a wine label—but I guess there's a place for good wine. It has to be enjoyed somewhere else—not among brick and mortar—where the lighting will do dramatic things to its colour, like the colour of your eyes, for instance.' 'You're a callous devil,' she said, 'and I despise myself for allowing you to—to fool me like this.' 'Fool you? How do I fool you?' 'Let's not label it.' 'No, let's label it,' he said, 'while we're about it.'

To hurt him she said, 'If you must know, fool me into believing you're someone else while I close my eyes.' Why had she said that? There's never been anyone else, she thought despairingly. It was never this way with Francois. 'I see.' He still managed to sound amused. 'Well, what difference does it make, Nikki, who it is, just so long as the outcome is satisfactory?' She knew that she should have slapped his face, but, turning, she ran from the old slave quarters.

That evening when she met him in the lounge with the paintings of his ancestors, Delft blue and white china and beautiful flower arrangements, she said, 'I'm going to leave here. I find it impossible to stay on,' knowing that she would never leave. She wanted him too much, but she wanted him to say something which would indicate the extent of his feelings towards her. She ached with wanting him. Her dreams, in the room with the dusky-pink velvet bedcovers and the haunting perfume of double-petunias, roses and daisies which came from the vases, were all of him. Philip stiffened. 'You're not, you know. You're too much in debt to leave here, Nikki de Mist, and I'm not like your Uncle Johanne. I intend to fight you. To keep you at Chardonnay—like the ghost in the punishment chamber who just can't get away.' 'Some of the things you say are completely without taste,' she said, her eyes going over his face. 'I didn't think for a moment, on the plane coming from Switzerland, that you would end up like this ...'

He came over to where she was seated on one of the deep comfortable sofas and sat down next to her. 'Like what?' He framed her face, between his fingertips and looked into her eyes. 'People are looking at you,' she said. 'I don't care,' he replied. 'Let them look, if it pleases them.' 'Jacqueline takes her wildness from you,' she said. 'Not from me—from my father.' He grinned, and then he allowed his hands to slip to her shoulders, just beneath her tawny hair which was catching the light from the chandelier above them. 'It's just as well that Amber Graham is not having one of her frequent little holidays with you, isn't it?' She moved away from him, and reached out to her coffee which was on the low table in front of them. 'Tell me, Nikki, what do you know about Amber Graham?' He stretched out long legs and studied her. 'But let me tell you something—I could tell you a thing or two. It would make you sit up and listen.' 'I don't want to know,' she said. 'Sometimes I think you should know, Nikki de Mist.' 'Stop calling me Nikki de Mist!' she snapped. 'I detest it.' 'We could always have it changed to Nikki de Berg, if you like that better. Apart from the fact that I have very definite ideas on the type of wife I want, that she should be of French Huguenot descent, think what this would do to the Dauphines.'

'How reckless you are! I might just take you up on that. You'd get a shock, wouldn't you, if I did?' 'Try me,' he replied, 'the offer is open. We haven't been able to produce wine here for a long time, but you could make up for it.' 'Really?' Her cup rattled against her teeth. Furious, she put it back on its saucer. 'How?' 'Well, you'd be like wine to me, Nikki, and, like wine, your only duty would be to please. You'd also be like one of your Uncle Johanne's glasses, bearing the emblem of the estate. You'd not only bear the stamp of Chardonnay, but the stamp of my lovemaking. Instead of the fumbling desire in a threadbare hotel or in a muddle of bricks and the dank smell of cement, we'd make love in a kingsize bed, smelling of lavender. I have one, you know. We'd make love in the moonlight which lights up the scented flowers and turns your smooth, silky and tanned body to silver. Give it some thought.' 'I will,' she retorted, 'and you might well live your life to regret it.' She spoke with an oddly helpless air. 'I don't think so. You become more irresistible each time I see you and the more I see of you.' His eyes went to her throat and down to her breasts. 'Marry me, Nikki.' There was no mention of having fallen in love with her. It was a request, unconcerned and careless. 'Let's put an end to this useless discussion,' she said, but she felt the exhilaration of discovering that if he asked her another time she'd say yes. He wanted to possess her. Well, she wanted him to possess her and the fact that when he was through with possessing her she might find herself discarded was something she'd cope

with when the time came. Without pride or a will of her own, she would stay on at Chardonnay, like the ghost who was trapped in the punishment cellar. In a world of gables, purple-slashed mountains, oaks and vines there was everything she needed to be luxuriously content. Instead, the days were unhappy for her.

Amber Graham arrived from Cape Town for a long weekend and stayed in the main house and the more Nikki thought about this the more she brooded. Secretly, she studied them at night in the dining-room. She watched them making their way round the long buffet table with its assortment of heavy and fluffy deserts, helping themselves and talking quietly as they selected concoctions of their choice. Bitterly, she watched them leave the lounge, after coffee, to make their way to the ladies' bar, beyond the foyer. When Felix turned up unexpectedly, she felt almost delighted to see him. Jacqueline, as usual, was out. They were having a drink in the bar when Felix said, 'Tell me, why exactly did you leave La Provence?' 'I wanted to open a finishing school,' she replied, and knew that from his stool beside Amber Graham, Philip was watching them. 'I felt mean about it, but I had to get away.' She spoke without thinking. 'Why did you have to get away?' Before she could answer he said, 'Was it because of me?'

On an impulse she said, 'Yes. I'll be honest with you. 'I think your father was hoping that we'd ...' she broke off, and shrugged. 'What did you think I had in mind?' 'I don't really know.' She looked at him with wide green eyes and shook her head. 'I felt—suffocated, somehow, truly...' He took her hand. 'Marriage isn't for me, baby. Not yet, anyway. I'm a wanderer, whether my old man likes to accept it or not. There was no need for you to clear off on that point. I tried to play my hand. Hell, what man worth his salt wouldn't?' When she said nothing he went on, 'If you'd been willing, Nikki, but you weren't. All the safety-belt signs were flashing. I would have given up, I don't make myself unhappy over these things. What I can't get in one direction, I get somewhere else. I was fast losing interest simply because you weren't willing. I'm still madly attracted to you, though.' He laughed softly, and kissed her fingers. 'You could have stayed on, though. I was taking the hint.' She took her fingers away and he said, 'I would have dutifully fastened my own seat belt, Nikki.' 'I wonder,' she said, 'knowing men the way I do.'

In the days to come she went about with a longing that was urgent and hopeless. She knew that she was obsessed by Philip de Berg. Once he joined her in the orangery where dark green alcoves, set into white walls, housed white statues. Amidst the limes and oranges growing in white tubs he handed her a glass and said, 'It's sundowner time and I happened to see you out here.'

'Thank you.' Nikki took the glass from him, careful not to touch his fingers, and sniffed it and looked up at him inquiringly. 'What is it?' 'Try it,' he told her. 'You'll like it.' Her face was closed and unhappy. 'I've been making notes on the gardens of Chardonnay,' she told him. 'I'm trying to compile notes on Chardonnay. I've been delving into some of its history.' 'How are the courses going?' he asked. 'Slowly.' She glanced at him over the rim of her glass. 'Is Jacqueline playing her part in compiling them?' Underlying the question there was constraint. 'Why do you ask?' 'For the very simple reason that she's seldom at home.' 'Well, there's nothing to hold her here yet. Although the slave quarters are well under way there's still a lot to do.' 'Yet when the time comes to spend money, my impetuous sister will come running. You'll have to watch her and curb her.' 'We can't spend much anyway,' said Nikki. 'Everything will have to be cut to a minimum. The girls themselves will take over the final decorating—decorating being one of the courses.' 'Talking about courses, I see you struggling night after night, in the library. Why don't you corner Jacqueline into taking an interest?' 'She is,' Nikki lied, shivering a little.

The mountains of Stellenbosch—Helderberg, Stellenboschberg, Botmaskop, Simonsberg—started to collect mist as the sun sank lower. The peaks glowed orange- pink through the mist. Nikki took a sip of her drink, perfectly chilled and served in an elegant glass. 'Don't let Jacqueline lean on you,' Philip was saying. In a thickening atmosphere of doubt Nikki said, 'She isn't—don't worry. You know,' she forced herself to speak lightly, 'you've never told me what happened with regard to grape-growing at Chardonnay. I'm trying to gather all this information to form a background, not only on my notes on Chardonnay, but as a backdrop to the finishing school.' We've had to ride one calamity after another,' he told her, 'from Vlamsiekte to cloudburst and, finally, the soil giving up the ghost for grape-growing. I'll go into this with you, along with anything else you might find interesting.' She felt suddenly calm with him. Why couldn't it always be this way? she thought. Suddenly, she felt she'd got the better of a bad few weeks, but as he looked at her, his blue-green eyes were unfathomable. 'You can also tell me more about the ghost.' She forced a smile. 'The ghost is an accepted part of Chardonnay. Nobody even thinks about it—nobody who happens to know about it, that is.' 'So there really is a ghost?' 'Yes, he turns up, once in a while, like Felix Dauphine, for I've seen him about, of course. What's he after, Nikki?'

'Does everything have to be catalogued and filed?' she asked. 'Under a file marked Dauphines!' Her voice was hard. She turned away. 'Let me go and get you another drink,' he said, reaching for her glass. 'No,' she said, 'I can't stay. I—have a date, actually.' This was untrue. His voice changed. 'Then don't let me hold you up. As a matter of fact, so do I have one.' His eyes went over her. 'Shall we go in?' 'In a moment, after I collect my notebook. I left it on a bench somewhere.' Philip shrugged and then she watched him walk away. For a few moments she gazed at the white columns of the orangery and then she went to stand where she could watch the garden to one side of it, which always surprised her with its colour. The pattern of walks, walls and terraces in relation to lawns, shrubbery and trees was a calculated picture, changing in mood dramatically by the rising and the sinking of the sun. Even in the winter, she thought, the flowers would not be missed. The way things were going with Jacqueline at the present moment caused Nikki to wonder how long she would be here at Chardonnay, for surely the finishing school was doomed to failure? The sun had fallen into the mountains and she felt the panic of losing Philip's taunting lovemaking. ***

With the wind tearing her hair into wild disorder, Nikki surveyed the old slave quarters which had now been converted into what was, she hoped, the plush Cape finishing school which she and Jacqueline were going to declare open in the near future. At Uncle Johanne's she supposed it would still be picking time, and yet so much had happened in between. The pickers would be in the vineyards, the bushel- baskets becoming full and, nearby, trailers would be piled high in a landscape of valleys and hills between mountain and sea. Here, at Chardonnay, where the vineyards had known calamity after calamity, things were following the same pattern. The gracious gabled house and many outbuildings had been converted into a haven for the rich, to keep it going. And now there was going to be a finishing school to add to its history. Nevertheless Chardonnay had lost none of its charms. The ornamental fountains still sprayed in a variety of sun-shot colours and on fine, calm days the mountains were blurred to a pale, pale mauve. Brandy stills still stood, in polished splendour, on long stoeps and the white slave-bell was a reminder of days gone by. Nikki knew that she loved Chardonnay as much as she loved the man who owned it. Although there were still finishing touches to be added, there were no workmen about. When Philip spoke, breaking into her meditation, she swung round quickly, startled for a moment. 'Jacqueline says we must have golden-yellow awnings, with white fringing, at some of the windows,' he was saying.

She saw his eyes go over her flared henna-coloured skirt and blouse in an exciting shade of apricot. 'Very—Nikki-ish,' he said. 'Very Nikki-ish. I like what I see.' 'I know she said that,' Nikki ignored the compliment. 'I was just trying to visualise them, as a matter of fact.' 'Were you?' 'Yes.' 'You appeared to be thinking about more than golden- yellow sunawnings with white fringing.' He came to stand next to her, vital and masculine in jeans and a matching shirt. But then, she thought, he always managed to look great, whether he happened to be wearing jeans or a superbly cut suit, or a casual silk shirt, open to the waist, and slacks. 'Well, I wasn't,' she answered. 'When Jackie gets back we're going into Stellenbosch to look at the shops and to see what they have to offer in the line of furniture and fittings we can afford. We also have to pick up the brochures, which I'm anxious to see, as you can imagine. Jacqueline showed great flair here.' 'I'm surprised to hear you say that. She never seems to be home, these days.' His voice was hard. 'Oh,' Nikki shrugged, 'we often work hard at night, in my rooms.' She did not tell him that often she'd had to wait until well after eleven o'clock for Jacqueline to turn up after she'd been out, and after having promised to be there around eight.

Looking at him, she was uncertain what to make of the change in him. It had been some time since he had made any attempt to touch her. 'We've—er—had another enrolment,' she said. 'A girl from Pretoria. We're coming on. The time is coming when we shall have to turn people away—until the next course.' There was a trace of doubt in her voice, however. Sometimes thinking about this wild project made her feel afraid. 'Let's take a look at the place and see what's happened and what's still to be done,' he said, and took her arm. She wondered whether he could feel the nerves beneath her skin as they responded to his touch. Inside, the converted slave quarters still smelled of damp cement and something else, which seemed linked to the past. Leaves and soil and wood? The rooms were whitely bright now—so different from the dark and gloomy cubicles of the past. Suddenly, Philip placed his hands against her head, cupping it. 'Hello,' he said, very softly, in much the same way as he had said that one word on the airliner coming from Switzerland. 'How long is it since I've kissed you?' 'There's every reason to believe that I won't let you kiss me again,' she said. 'There's every reason to believe that you won't stand up to the test.' 'Why do you do this to me?' she asked, trying to get away from him. 'What are you trying to prove?' 'I don't have to prove anything,' he told her. 'We share the same desires, Nikki. You know that.'

'I've told you this before, you have a cold streak in you.' 'My vineyard slave girl,' he said. 'Come here, Nikki.' 'Don't mock me,' she said. 'I'm not your slave girl. I have no intention of becoming that.' 'You have a lot to learn. I'm not mocking you.' 'You are,' she said bitterly. 'Tell me, what do you hope to get out of this? There's not even a carpet on the floor. Do you imagine that I'm willing to surrender myself on a cold, screeded floor to you, or any other man?' 'You put that one in right under a vein, Nikki. I didn't mean that at all. I wouldn't want you to surrender yourself to me here—on a cold, screeded floor.' His eyes were faintly mocking, but his mouth was hard. 'No?' She could hardly lift her voice, she was so hurt and so furious. When she tried to get past him he put out a hand and stopped her. 'That was your way of thinking, Nikki, not mine. What do you think I am?' 'Leave me alone!' she told him, and then she looked up and saw Felix out in the sunlight, coming towards the door. 'They told me I'd probably find you here,' he said when he walked into the room in which they were standing. 'Yes,' Nikki said, making up her mind, 'I'm sorry I didn't get back in time—you know—for our date.' Her voice petered out and she gave Felix a drowned look.

'Oh, I see.' Something told her that he had caught on immediately and she silently gave thanks. 'Excuse me,' she said to Philip. She waited a moment while the two men exchanged greetings, and then she said, taking Felix's arm, 'Okay, let's go. I'm through here.' Her green eyes went carelessly around the room, avoiding Philip. When she was outside, with Felix, he said, 'So what gives, Nikki?' 'I just wanted to get away, that's all. Nothing serious. You happened to come along at the right time.' She slanted a look at him. 'What brings you over to Chardonnay at this time of the day?' 'I was passing,' he told her vaguely. 'I thought you'd like to have lunch with me. I'm restless. Going back to the restaurant fills me with frustration. Perhaps the old man is right, Nikki. Perhaps I need somebody to control me. A bossy, beautiful wife. She'd have to be pretty broad-minded, though—a guru for the Women's Lib movement, which would mean that she would want to be recognised as an individual and not merely the daughter-in-law of Johanne Dauphine and wife of his irresponsible son. In that way only we'd reach some sort of understanding, because an oldfashioned marriage would turn her into an instrument of women's oppression and, at the same time, tie us both down, and I certainly don't want to be tied down to any one woman.' 'But you would get married?' Nikki asked. 'To please the old man, yes. You never know, she might even love me.' 'You men!' she said, and laughed, but there was an edge to it. Her eyes brooded on the lines of experience about his mouth. Suddenly, for no particular reason, a picture of Luciana Bini came

to mind. Luciana with her bitterness and her ideas that women were too docile and too law-abiding. When they reached the veranda which led to her rooms she said, 'Felix, I'm afraid I can't have lunch with you. You see, I'm going shopping with Jacqueline. I have bother pinning her down as it is, without having to postpone today.' She was saying goodbye to him when Philip walked past on his way to the main house, and she noticed the hard look which came her way. For once, Jacqueline was on time and they drove into Stellenbosch in Nikki's car. Jacqueline suddenly seemed to gain the interest which had seemed lacking during all the weeks during the conversion of the old slave quarters and the hard work of compiling courses. Nikki watched her with concern. Once she said, 'Jacqueline, we can't afford to spend money like this, don't you see? We can't possibly stretch to antiques. I thought you didn't like antiques?' 'I don't particularly like them. Anyone knows that living in these historical homesteads is like living in a museum. Stinkwood cabinets, filled with old willow pattern and Nankin porcelain armoires inlaid with ebony and ivory all well over two hundred years old, canopied bedsteads, grandfather clocks made in Amsterdam in the eighteenth century and the hearth in the kitchen decorated with copper cooking implements ... I can't go on,' she put her hands to her ears, 'it drives me mad with frustration just to think of it. I haven't the same feeling for these things as some people have. I prefer living in the present, not in the past. I prefer fibreglass and abstract art and chrome and perspex beds, but don't you see, this has to be a finishing school with a difference? It's

probably going to be the first of its kind in the Cape, and what better background? A place steeped in the most romantic history. The finishing school, set against the vineyards, must have all the atmosphere it deserves.' 'I can see your point, but what about money? Money, Jacqueline?' 'Some of the reception rooms just have to be furnished with antiques, or at least have a smattering of them about the place, Nikki. We mustn't stint here. In the long run it will pay dividends. I'll just have to put the pressure on Philip, that's all.' Helplessly, Nikki's eyes went to Jacqueline as she signed a slip for an expensive antique bookcase. During the days to come, she felt herself caught up in the tidal wave that was Jacqueline de Berg, as they shopped around and hunted for so-called bargains. Philip's sister seemed to be more enchanted each day at the thought of running a plush finishing school, run on Swiss lines, in the beautiful, mountainous Cape. Their debts seemed to be mounting; Jacqueline brushed them aside. The workmen had left. The finishing school was beginning to take shape. Pot plants grew in tubs which stood on the long paved veranda. Behind thick white walls, the rooms waited for the girls who would arrive shortly, although a definite date had not yet been set. The weather was calm and hazy in this haven of oaks, vineyards, silvertrees and poplars. On the other side of the mountains, the ocean curled over on to gilded sand dunes. From the cellar doors there was the smell of fermenting grape-juice, for Chardonnay still produced wine on a very small scale.

Nikki was in the library after dinner on the night that Philip stormed into it. 'Did you know that Jacqueline has done a bunk?' he asked, his eyes going over her and then to the foolscap papers on the huge desk. 'But no, I guess you didn't.' 'Done—a—bunk?' Nikki's slim fingers convulsed. She stared back at him blankly. 'Done a bunk, did you say?' 'She's cleared off. She left the usual old corny note.' Something seemed to be taking Nikki by the throat. 'No,' she said. 'No.' She stood up and found that her legs were shaking. 'Cleared off—where to?' 'I don't know where to, Nikki. If I knew where I certainly wouldn't be here now. She's cleared off with that fellow she met in Switzerland. Apparently he rocked up here a couple of months ago and she's been seeing him. That explains why she was never here when she was needed.' 'What did she say in the note?' Nikki took a calming breath. He put his hand in his pocket. 'Read it,' he said, and went to stand next to the long, small-paned windows. Jacqueline asked for forgiveness and understanding. She asked for Philip to have faith in her. To have faith in him, the man she loved. She asked forgiveness for landing Nikki with the school. She asked forgiveness for the debts and ended up by saying, 'I guess I belong to the breakaway people, Phil, but I'll be back, when you've had time to forgive me.' 'Maybe it will work out.' Nikki's voice was small.

'I've had to act as mother to Jacqueline,' Philip was saying, 'and let's face it, I made a poor mother. I've also had to act as father to her, and it was here that I really slipped up most. When she was younger, I should have turned her over my knee and given her the thrashing of her life.' 'But you wouldn't have done that!' Nikki's green eyes registered shock. 'Would you?' He sighed. 'No, I guess not. It's been one damned thing after another. She's been in love several times before. And now we have a finishing school on our hands.' 'You were the one who insisted that it should be here, at Chardonnay,' she retorted. 'Might I even remind you that you went so far as to say that, if it failed, the conversion could be incorporated into the hotel and, by doing this, you wouldn't stand to lose? It would mean enlarging the hotel, in other words.' He swung round on her. 'I know what I said and I know why I said it.' 'I'll just have to pay you back,' she said. 'Pay me back? How?' His eyes went over her. 'I'll have to work that one out,' she admitted.

During the next two days Nikki concentrated on sorting accounts and was staggered at the way in which Jacqueline had bought on credit—things which had no right to have been bought until long after the finishing school had showed some kind of profit. She just seemed to have bought at random, whenever anything seemed to

have taken her fancy. Her signature appeared, over and over again, on those deadly little slips of white paper ... a careless, flamboyant signature. At the end of those two days Nikki went to speak to Philip. 'We'll talk in my private drawing-room,' he told her, leading the way into the room with its Persian rugs on a paved floor worn smooth by generations of footsteps, turquoise-blue sofas and chairs, antique tables and lamps which had been converted to electricity. His eyes went to the folder she was carrying. 'I don't know where to begin,' she said. 'I'm not going to be able to meet these debts. I just haven't the money.' 'If you don't know how, how am 1 to know?' he asked brutally. Since Felix had last been to visit her and come to look for her in the converted slave quarters Philip's attitude towards Nikki had changed, and he had made no attempt to be with her or to touch her. 'I'll go back to work,' she said. 'It will take time to pay you back— but I'll do it.' 'So you'll go back to work and you will pay me back and it will take time?' 'Yes. What else can I do? Realistically, what?' 'Supposing I'm not prepared to wait?' he snapped. 'You'll just have to wait. It's the only way I'm going to be able to pay my debts which go towards this finishing school, which will now close before it's even been opened.'

'I said from the beginning,' he went on, still in that same unrelenting voice, 'that I would undertake to pay for the conversions. I said that if the finishing school failed, the rooms could be put to use. The number of people who visit Chardonnay keeps increasing. I have noticed for myself, however, that what you and Jacqueline referred to as decorating on a shoestring seemed to turn into some mammoth feat in interior decorating.' She did not tell him that Jacqueline was responsible for this. What was the use? 'Many of the pieces of furniture will fit into the hotel scheme of things, I should imagine,' she said. 'So will the Manchester items.' 'You'll go back to work—where?' he asked. 'I—that's beside the point.' 'You'll go back to La Provence, in other words?' The anger in his voice was unmistakable. 'It will save Felix visiting you here, after all.' In a defeated voice she said, 'We're discussing how I'm going to pay you back. I don't know how, or when, I'm going to pay you back, Philip. Ill be honest with you. My—my money is finished.' He was silent for a moment and then he said, 'I'll tell you how you're going to pay me back, Nikki. You're going to marry me.' 'Marry you!' She felt as if she had been kicked in her stomach. 'That's what I said,' he answered, unfeelingly. 'And how will this pay you back—a—loveless marriage?'

'I'll tell you how, Nikki. Chardonnay needs a beautiful mistress and one of French Huguenot descent. Imagine my private drawingroom, on a night when I decide to have one of my very private parties, with its flowers, soft lights, antique furniture and heirlooms and someone waiting on them with a silver tray of champagne in sparkling glasses bearing the Chardonnay emblem—for we also have them, by the way—and then you, coming forward to say hello in that very elegant finishing school accent. It's what Chardonnay needs.' 'That sort of proposal went out with the Ark,' she said.. 'It's the sort of thing novelists used to write about long before I was born. What you really want, Philip de Berg, is a slave girl, like your ancestors had. You'll make out a receipt for me and post it to my father in Peru. Is that it?' 'Something like that. You'd bear my children, and what better combination than de Berg and de Mist— to keep Chardonnay alive, long after we're gone?' 'You're so conceited,' she said, in a choked voice. 'In— in a time when women are shouting for their liberation you'd expect a woman to play the role of slave!' 'Yes,' he answered. 'Johanne Dauphine isn't the only one who wants you to fill that role.' She went on looking at him and then took a deep breath, preparing herself for what lay ahead of her if she took him up on that, because she knew suddenly, and with a devastating certainty, that she wanted Philip de Berg on any terms. She was, in fact, a slave of love.

'You'd get a shock,' she said, and there was a tightness in her voice which made it almost impossible to hear her, 'if I accepted, wouldn't you?' Something stirred in the back of his eyes. 'Try me,' he said, very softly, 'try me, Nikki, and then put away those debts.' She met his blue-green eyes squarely and heard herself say, 'All right, I'll marry you.' Then she watched him as he went to a traditional- style drinks cupboard which, when opened, revealed a small bar complete with minute refrigerator. Without consulting her, he poured two drinks and then added ice. Turning, he came towards her with two glasses and passed her one. She took it with shaking fingers. 'I toast you, Nikki.' 'And I you,' she said, in a small, hard voice. 'You'd better break the news to Amber Graham.' 'I'll do that, don't worry.' His eyes held hers. Nikki took a sip of her drink and felt the kind of cramp which goes along with shock. Philip put his glass down on the low table and then he reached for hers. 'You're not going to change your mind about this,' he told her, putting his glass on to the table next to his own. He took her into his arms and his lips came down on hers. Frantically she wanted to withdraw and to take back what she had said, but he would not release her and she sagged against him with pleasurable longing and closed her eyes. Her lashes felt very long and sleek against her cheeks and her eyes seemed to tilt upwards, slanting away to her temples. She felt beautiful and all woman, thrilling to his touch. She felt a helpless drifting. She wanted Philip de Berg enough, loved him enough, to take what came.

CHAPTER EIGHT WHEN Philip came to her rooms the following morning, Nikki showed him out to the patio. 'About the finishing school,' he said, ignoring the fact that she had invited him to sit down. 'Can you manage without Jacqueline? That is—going ahead with the opening, as planned.' 'Is this what you want me to do?' she asked. 'I'm asking you,' he snapped. 'Well, I'd have to get somebody else to help with the courses— somebody qualified to fit the position.' 'Was Jacqueline ever qualified?' His voice was hard. 'After all, she didn't exactly make the grade in Switzerland, did she?' 'She knew enough. Besides, she'd been to university.' 'She didn't finish. Still, that's all beside the point, right now. So you can manage if you get someone to help you?' 'Yes.' 'In that case, the finishing school will open as planned. The only difference is that we'll be married first and we'll have a honeymoon. You will see your dream through, when we've done this.' 'I—didn't think you'd want a honeymoon,' she said. 'Why not? I happen to want one very much.' 'But—under the circumstances,' she faltered.

'Particularly under the circumstances. We shall go away for not less than two weeks.' 'I see.' Her voice was low. 'We'll be married here,' he told her, 'in the little chapel. I must take you there to see it. You'll also see the crests of the de Bergs and other branches of the family.' Listening to him, Nikki felt as .if she were in a dream and in the dream there were two girls ... herself and another girl who looked like her. The girl who looked like her gazed helplessly at the girl who was herself, and who was giving herself to a man who had no other thought but to have her name added to those crests in the small chapel on the estate, because she was of French Huguenot descent and had a Swiss finishing school background and a perfect accent. Someone who would be there when he gave his very private parties for very special friends in his very private drawingroom. 'I don't expect you'll want to be married in a wreath and veil,' he was saying. 'You might well like to wear a wide-brimmed hat, with a long dress.' She felt a spurt of frustrated anger. 'And it will probably disappoint you to hear that I most certainly want to be married in a wreath and veil! I haven't been married before and this is my wish, ludicrous as it might seem.' 'Very well, Nikki, if that's what you want.' He sounded politely interested and she felt like screaming. 'It is my wish. I'll have to let my father know,' she said, 'and one or two people I know ...'

'Quite.' He went on looking at her and then he said, 'You might like to wear my mother's wedding dress and I believe there is a Brussels lace veil which belonged to my grandmother. Both are in perfect condition and very beautiful. They're there to be used, either by you or by Jacqueline—or both.' 'Thank you,' she murmured, in a businesslike manner. After he had gone she remained standing on the patio, feeling strangely exhilarated that he had offered her the gown which had belonged to his mother and the Brussels lace veil which had belonged to his grandmother. Marriages had been built on less than this, she thought.

The days to come were hectic. Much to Nikki's surprise her father wrote saying that he would be there to see her married. And then so did Luciana Bini. Philip's manner had been distant right up until the moment she joined him at the altar, trembling on her handsome father's arm, her face screened by the veil which had stood the test of time without a mark. At this moment, he smiled down at her and she tried not to think of the strange conditions of her marriage. The reception was held in Philip's private drawing- room and the patio which led off from it. The burgundy curtains at the long windows and french doors, with their small panes of glass, moved slightly in the breeze. Lunch was served at a long table, which had been brought in for the occasion. Champagne corks popped. Her father blinked away a

tear. 'Thank you for coming,' Nikki whispered. 'And thank you for your very handsome cheque—and for the beautiful set of cases. They're lovely.' 'I know you'll be happy,' he said. 'You've made a good choice. I'll be returning to Peru with a contented mind.' 'Good.' She smiled back at him, wondering what he would think if he knew. 'I like your Philip,' Luciana Bini was saying. 'Congratulations, Nikki.' 'Thank you for coming all this way,' said Nikki. 'It's also a holiday,' Luciana said. And then, unbelievably, they were on their way, in Philip's car with the gold body and cream vinyl roof. Nikki's tawny-blonde hair fell loose to her shoulders. She was now wearing a white sleeveless dress, the jacket of which had been tossed on to the back seat. Tinted sun-glasses seemed to cover most of her face, which was what she had intended. Sensing the tension in Philip, she watched him as he turned on the car radio. Under the circumstances, she did not know what to say to him. It seemed out of keeping to talk about the wedding ceremony and the reception. 'Well,' he turned to look at her, 'why don't you say something, Mrs Nikki de Berg?' He took a hand from the steering wheel to free the cravat he was wearing from his neck. He passed it to her and she tossed it into the back of the car to join her white jacket. After a few moments Philip stopped the car and opening the door he stepped out and removed his jacket. 'That's better,' he said, when it

had joined their possessions on the back seat. He sighed. 'And now we can begin to relax, Nikki.' Filled with conflicting emotions, she said softly, 'Yes.' 'The flowers were beautiful,' he said. 'You were beautiful.' 'Thank you. I'm glad you thought so.' 'Beauty is something I take very seriously,' he said. 'That's another quality you possess.' He took her hand and lifted it to his lips. A little later he turned up the radio and Nikki closed her eyes, listening to the music. Even with her eyes closed, she was aware of the grace about her husband's movement—a grace that was almost animal sometimes, like a mountain leopard, she thought., 'You haven't told me how it feels to be Mrs Philip de Berg,' he said. After a moment she said, 'I—can't say.' 'Why not?' He turned to look at her. 'It's impossible for me to say, under these conditions.' 'It may be difficult for you to say, but not impossible. And what conditions? There are no conditions.' 'I'm not sure how it's going to work out,' she said. 'How could I be?' 'Nobody's asking you to be sure, but nevertheless, a lot rests on you. So far as I'm concerned, I've got what I want.'

'I see.' She wished that he would be more explicit. If only he'd said, I'm very fond of you, Nikki. Even that. The evening light had already faded when Philip turned off on the road which wound down to the main beach—a semi-circle of pale, beautiful sand, its rock arms embracing the half-moon of blue-silk ocean. In places, small bushes, dune vines and little sun-baked yellow daisies grew on dunes which gave way to the sands which were being pounded and smoothed by rows of foaming breakers. Even in this light it was too enchantingly beautiful to describe, thought Nikki, feeling a tinge of excitement. What better place to spend a honeymoon than the magnificent hotel built on a rock island? They were ushered into the wide, spacious lobby with its blue-tiled floors, giving a delightful Mediterranean feeling. Suddenly Nikki felt tiredness wash over her and knew disappointment. She was tired, a little headachey and decidedly touchy. The moment she had stepped out of the car and into the wind which was coming off the sea these physical let-downs made themselves felt and she felt betrayed by them. The room into which they were shown had a breathtaking view. Even with night approaching, it was easy to see that. From the balcony the sea was almost deafening as it hurled itself against the golden rocks below. While Philip was busy organising their cases she went to stand on the balcony and then he came out to join her. 'I don't know about you,' he said, 'but I'm in need of an extremely potent drink before changing for dinner.' He did not touch her.

Without turning, she said, 'That will be nice. I didn't realise how tired I am.' Willow-slim and glamorous, she turned. 'I have a headache.' 'Not again, Nikki!' He sounded both amused and irritated. 'You had a headache at the Oaks Hotel. Remember? Why, are you nervous?' 'No,' she replied, meaning yes. 'It's just strain. It's been that kind of day. Weddings are always a strain—so I've heard, anyway.' She tried to smile. 'Nothing that a drink won't put right.' He took her arm. 'Come along.' They went back into the room. The bed was huge and the bedhead a magnificent silk padded affair. Nikki found herself looking at it and felt compelled to meet his eyes, and they stared at one another for a long moment. She put her fingers up to her hair. 'I—er—I'm thrilled with the cases my father gave me. They look very expensive on that white shaggy carpet, don't they?' He turned to look at them. 'I guess they are expensive.' They had drinks in the huge lounge which was canti-levered over the golden rocks. The sea thundered over the rocks and, because of the pier-like design of the hotel, continued into the very foundations of the building. Later on there'd be a moon, sliding, shivering, over the sea and it would steal past the balcony upstairs, and lie across the bed with the quilted bedhead. Nikki's eyes went to Philip. He looked relaxed, she thought, although she couldn't be sure, of course. He always had this way with him ... sure of himself and in command. Other men seemed to pale into insignificance beside him.

He glanced at his watch. 'We'd better move,' he said, 'if we want to bath and dress at our leisure before dinner.' And then, back in that marvellous room, Nikki discovered she had lost the keys to her cases. 'Why did you have to lock them, in the first place?' Philip asked, and his brusque superiority annoyed her. 'There was no need to, surely, since we came by car?' 'I locked them because they were packed so full I was afraid they'd burst open in the foyer, or something, while they were being carried in. Is it a crime to lose keys?' 'I didn't say it was a crime, Nikki.' He sounded patient, but he was very impatient. 'Are you sure they aren't in your bag?' 'I'm certain,' she said, hunting around On the carpet. Then she went on her knees at the foot of the bed and turned the contents of her bag on to the Spanish bedspread. They had brought a tape-recorder with them, but they'd forgotten it in the car and this also added to her frustration, because she had wanted to make a tape- recording of the floodlit waves crashing against the rocks below; before they went for dinner. 'They're not here,' she said, and then, like a child, she put her head on the bedspread and began to cry, her hair covering her face. 'Nikki,' said Philip, 'for God's sake, it's not the end of the line. I'll break into the damned things.'

'No, you won't.' She lifted her face. 'My beautiful cases from my father! I don't want them broken into.' 'We'll have new locks put back on in the morning,' he replied. 'It's as simple as that. There's quite a business centre on top of the hill.' 'I don't care,' she mumbled. 'No!' and suddenly, he exploded. 'Nikki,' he snapped, 'I'm breaking into these damned cases—so move over, will you? I'm going to the car to get something to do it with.' 'Okay,' she said, on a weary breath and got up from the carpet. They stared at each other furiously. 'I suppose there's nothing else for it. I've got to change, after all.' 'I won't be long,' he told her. 'In the meantime, take a bath, and by the time you're finished I'll be ready to take one.' After he had gone she went through to the bathroom. It had everything from a long mosaic-topped vanity to a sheepskin rug on the mosaic-tiled floor. An enormous mirror, polished to perfection, held her interest—or rather the image of the willow-slim girl who was trapped there. She felt almost hypnotised by this image. Then she turned on the taps and began to undress and when she was naked she gazed at herself in the mirror. The confusion in her green eyes made her appear curiously child-, like—that and the fact that she had tiny breasts. 'So this is your wedding night,' she whispered. 'Do you know that? Do you know what it means?' A shock went through her. 'But he doesn't love you. For various reasons, he wants you—but he doesn't love you. You poor little devil.' She turned away and, when

she was lying in the bath, she heard the door to the small hall open and could hear Philip moving about. Eventually she got out of the bath and dried herself, then draped an outsize orange-gold bath towel about her body. With a last look at herself in the polished mirror, she opened the door and stepped into the small hall which accommodated built-in wardrobes with white- louvred doors. Philip was in the main section of the room. 'I've tried to force them,' he looked up and his eyes went over the towel, 'but it's impossible. They won't give. So I have nothing for it but to break into them.' She bit her lip, then said, 'Go ahead.' Her toes curled in the shaggy carpet, digging in, almost, as she watched him. 'And now they're finished,' she said. 'Lovely cases— and now they're finished.' 'I told you this would have to happen,' he said, and her fingers tightened on the towel. 'I know you did, but it doesn't mean that I have to be pleasant about it.' Suddenly she wanted to quarrel with him. 'Don't be so childish,' he snapped. 'You're making a mountain out of a molehill. You'd better get something sorted out and get dressed. We're running late now. I'll settle for a shower.' While he was showering Nikki looked out what she was to wear. It was strange, she thought, they had shared many intimate moments together when both had felt the flood of desire, but now that they

were married and alone they were strained and ill at ease. The dress she chose was a black pastel-printed floating chiffon affair and she was already dressed when Philip came back into the room. He had a towel about his hips and his hair glistened with water and while he was delving into his cases she left him and went to stand on the balcony, where the sea-breezes tugged at her hair and the flounced skirts of her gown. 'How was that for a quick change?' Philip said, behind her. Turning, she said, 'It's usually the woman who keeps the man waiting.' She tried to keep her voice very light. 'I won't reply to that, but I guess you know what held me up. You look stunning. Very Nikki-ish, as usual.' He took her into his arms, but made no attempt to kiss her—no doubt because she was groomed to dine. 'Let me make this perfectly clear, Nikki, I wouldn't have this any other way ...' They had more drinks in the ladies' bar which had floor-to-ceiling windows and from where they sat, on high stools, they could see those floodlit waves. Somewhere, from the dining-room, no doubt, an orchestra was playing Ebb Tide and it was being piped, very softly, into the bar. Nikki's heart turned over, just listening to the haunting strains. She was very conscious of the man on the stool next to her. The man who was now her lawfully wedded husband. When he asked her what she would like to drink she said, 'I'll have a Campari, thank you.' It had the desired effect. He lifted his brows. 'A Campari? Why a Campari?' 'Because that's what I want.'

'Okay.' Philip signalled the barman. He lifted his brows again when she asked for a second drink, and when she asked for a third he lifted his glass in mocking salute. 'Let me guess,' he said, 'you're trying to put yourself under the counter. Right?' 'I wouldn't say that.' She turned to look at him. 'I wouldn't say that at all.' 'No?' 'Tell me,' she said, in a flippant voice, 'How does it feel to be married to a de Mist, Mr de Berg? I mean, this is what you wanted, isn't it? You wanted Nikki de Mist because she conveniently happened to be of French Huguenot descent. She will make a perfect mistress for Chardonnay, we hope. Anyway, I hope it pleases you?' She took an almost infantile pleasure in her words. 'As a matter of interest, are French Huguenots in short supply, right now?' Her lips curved in a smile and then she laughed outright, and then sobered again, and shook back her hair. 'I've only achieved what I wanted,' he said, taking her glass from her fingers and putting it to one side. 'Don't try to violate the essential mood, Nikki. This happens to be our wedding night.' A blind, helpless humiliation washed over her. 'What's that to mean? That you've only achieved what you wanted?' 'It means what it's supposed to mean. I know what I want and I've got it.'

'I see. How very fortunate for you. I do congratulate you.' She giggled again. 'Nikki de Berg,' she said. 'De Berg and de Mist—the world-famous team.' Her careful precision of the enunciation betrayed her and she knew, suddenly, that she had had too much to drink. 'I must admit it's an attractive thought,' he replied, but there was a hard look about his mouth. 'What would you have done in my position?' she asked, giving careful attention to the way in which she was speaking, 'I was in debt. Jacqueline played her part, but she got off scot-free. She hasn't had to suffer .,.' 'Are you suffering?' he asked. 'Yes, I am.' 'Try not to let the debt get in the way,' he told her after a moment. 'I've forgotten about it. I want you to do the same thing.' She sighed and turned away from him and sat half listening to the conversation about her. Her eyes went from high stool to high stool. Above the conversation there was the usual clinking and rustling noises that go along with a setting like this. The bar was filling up and the warm air wrapped itself round her shoulders like exotic silk. She felt suddenly beautiful again. 'Let's go and eat,' Philip broke into her thoughts. In between courses they danced to an exciting band, on a floor that was packed with smart young and old people, weaving or clinging together. A girl with a husky voice sang a song with brooding, troubled words. It was called Joni. Joni. Nikki. What was the difference? Nikki shuddered in his arms. Philip ordered an

excellent wine to go along with each course and when they danced again Nikki began to feel as if she was dancing against a backdrop of mirrors. Philip's arms tightened. 'Nikki?' 'Umm?' 'To please you, Nikki, is very important to me.' Because of her destroyed pride as a result of why she was Mrs Philip de Berg she said, 'I'm sure it is. In that way you'll get a much better performance out of me, won't you? Tell me, shall I dance naked before you while you watch me from that big bed upstairs? Like a Chardonnay slave girl?' 'Cut that out!' he ground out. 'I don't think any slave girl at Chardonnay ever had to do that—not unless it was by her own choice, anyway.' A little later she said, 'You remind me of a released mountain leopard, Philip.' 'Why released?' His voice was hard. 'I'm not released yet, Nikki. The chances are that when I am, we'll reach the top.' They danced until midnight and then went downstairs to the discotheque where they were invited to move until dawn, but they left after about an hour. The sound of the sea noises rushed to meet them as they opened their door. The wind blew the curtains at the glass doors which they had left open.

Seeking reassurance as to why she was here with Philip, Nikki said, 'I'm so sad about my cases. My father must have paid a fortune for them.' 'Forget about the cases,' he sounded irritable. 'It's all very well for you,' she said childishly. 'They aren't your cases.' 'I know they're not my cases. We'll have them repaired in the morning. I've already told you that.' For a seemingly endless moment their eyes met and held. To protect her own feelings Nikki went over to one of the cases and fingered the broken lock. Then she looked at Philip and saw something which could have been anger stirring in his blue-green eyes. 'Forget about those damned cases, Nikki.' He spoke in a voice vibrant with authority. Her green eyes questioned him and the result was immediate. He came over to where she was standing and tilted her chin with his fingers, then bent to kiss her. 'You're so—so ...' she tried to speak against his mouth. 'So—what?' he said, 'but don't tell me, Nikki. Let me tell you. You have much to learn about me, but at this moment, I'm the loneliest man in the world.' He's thinking of Amber Graham, Nikki thought stupidly. She had known it was this way, after all, before she had agreed to marry him, but she hadn't cared because she'd loved him.

'Don't,' she moved her lips from his. 'Don't!' Philip held her away from him. 'Why not?' His eyes were furious. 'Why not, Nikki?' 'I—don't—want to—to hurry,' she said, although she wanted him so much she ached. And then she was crying against him. 'Do I have to?' she sobbed. 'No, you don't have to. Not now. I'll wait.' He released her and she watched him as he went in the direction of the door. 'I'm going on the beach,' he told her. 'I'm in no hurry, Nikki, but it will be before we leave for Chardonnay. Make no mistake about that.' Nikki knew a moment of despair so absolute that it took her breath away. She was sitting up in the huge bed when he got back, looking like a burnished statue with the Hollywood-style quilted bedhead behind her, and she gave him an anguished look. 'I'm sorry,' she said, very softly. 'It's just the whole set-up—you know ...' 'I asked you to marry me.' He stood looking at her. His skin looked damp with sea-spray. 'You could have refused. You shouldn't forget that. I find you desirable. There have been times when I have felt that we share this feeling and so, now that you're my wife, what appears to be the problem? I think you'd better resign yourself to the fact that you are my wife.'

He turned and left her and Nikki heard him taking a shower. When he came back into the room he was wearing pyjama pants and nothing else. She was still sitting up, as he had left her. Without a will of their own her eyes went to his tanned skin and the dark hairs which glinted there. 'I'm afraid there's nothing for it, Mrs de Berg,' he said, 'but I'm going to have to share your bed.' For a moment her huge grave eyes studied him and then she slid down beneath the bedcovers and reached out a hand and turned off the light on her side. When Philip was in bed beside her, he turned off his light and lay with his hands behind his head, as he had done on the night at the Oaks Hotel. 'What did you expect?' she heard him ask, 'when you went through with this?' After a moment she said in a small voice, 'This is exactly what I expected.' 'What—this?' He sounded amused. 'Yes—us—in bed together.' 'Just like this. No touching. No contact.' Some of the anger of earlier on came back into his voice. 'No. Not—without—touching, Philip.' She realised that by answering him truthfully, she was on thin ice and that, paper-thin, it would split at the slightest movement. Uncertainty and fear— and longing—flooded her mind. 'Oh, gee!' she added, on a shuddering breath.

She felt him sit up suddenly and knew without opening her eyes that he was looking down at her. 'How young you seem right now. How serious, Nikki.' He bent to kiss her lightly and then, without touching her with his hands or his body, his lips became more searching. She felt as though she was falling head-first into a bottomless chasm. Her lips responded to his and then, when his arms sought her body, her own arms came up to lock behind his neck. The love she knew she always had for him was giving way to the physical desire over which she had never had much control. Her legs moved slightly. 'Nikki,' he whispered, 'don't let's waste time. It's got to be now, on our wedding night—you know that, as well as I do.' 'Yes,' she said. 'Yes, I know ...' The sliding glass doors to the balcony had been pulled back and the thundering of the sea rushed in and seemed to take over from the purr of the air-conditioner. 'Forget about everything, Nikki, and everybody. We're the only ones who matter right now.' 'I know,' she said again. She bit her lips to save herself from crying out. While he made love to her an uncontrollable part of her mind was sobbing, love me, Philip. Love me ... not Amber Graham. Her nails bit into him, and then she dismissed Amber Graham while a long shiver ran through her golden-tanned body. Philip was whispering things to her, brushing back the strands of her damp hair, but his words were lost in the roar of the sea and

the tempest which drove her along into a shimmering dark satin place she had never been to before.

She was awake at sunrise. Philip was still asleep, one tanned arm across his forehead. Nikki sat up and brushed the strands of her hair back from her face, then slipped from the bed and went out to the balcony. The sun was beginning to dapple the sea with silver and gold and seagulls were either complaining or rejoicing— she couldn't decide which. There was the constant roaring and thundering, hissing and sighing of the sea and there were porpoises out beyond the golden rocks. The Outeniekwa mountains were hazed by a mist, which she knew would lift later in the morning. Where the waves curled over, the rocks were either a pale biscuit colour or a rich bronze—against a paler beach. Her thoughts were centred on the man who lay asleep in the room behind her and she caught her breath sharply as she remembered how it had been. For a few seconds she had known hurt and invasion. What was it Philip had said, I'm not released yet, Nikki, but the chances are that when I am, we'll reach the top. Well, after his first gentleness with her—they had. He had not only released himself but her as well, and together they had reached the top and would do so again and again in an easy, practised manner. She turned and went back into the room just as he stirred, then he opened those startling blue-green eyes and stared at her for a long time, while she stared back. 'Good morning, Mrs de Berg.' He sat up. Nikki wished he wouldn't keep saying that, and felt her mood swerve and knew she was becoming upset. Was this to be his way of reminding her that she was chosen because of her ancestry?

'Good morning,' she answered seriously, and without smiling. 'My serious little bride.' His eyes went over her. 'Nikki?' 'Yes,' she said. 'Come here.' She went to stand beside him and he pulled her down to him. 'You're beautiful,' he murmured. 'I had very definite ideas on the type of wife I wanted.' The morning started slowly with the temptation to make love before breakfast. Breakfast consisted of sliced fruits and melon, yoghurts and baskets offering newly baked croissants, eggs, bacon and sausages, but Nikki ate almost nothing. Afterwards, they drove into the small town, or rather up the hill to the small town, where they left the cases to be repaired. The mist on the mountains had dissolved, leaving them stark and almost purple as they dipped into the sea in the curved distance. They swam and as they lazed on the sun-drenched beach she felt the shock of incredulity when she realised that the handsome bronzed creature beside her—this god—was actually her husband. Obviously he felt her gaze upon him, for he rolled over. Nikki's eyes widened a little before her lashes went down to hide the desire she always felt for him. Would it ever wane? she asked herself. Like the splendour of the moon after the full. Remembering the wanton way in which she had surrendered to him before breakfast she hardly thought so. At first there had been a moment of resistance, on her part, because he had called her Mrs de Berg in that mocking tone. Her response had been almost mechanical, as though this was expected

of her in view of the fact that she had agreed to marry him because of debts incurred on his property and which he was having to meet, but as his arms had tightened about her she had felt immediate response. 'Don't close your eyes,' he was saying now, on the beach. 'I want to see what's written there, Nikki.' Regardless of the people on the sand near them he kissed her, and she felt weakened. 'Talk to me,' he said, against her mouth. 'Say something, Nikki.' 'I've got nothing to say,' she said softly. 'Nothing?' 'No.' Her eyes closed again. If only he'd say it, she thought. I love you ... What was love? Was this love? This continually wanting to be one? 'People are looking,' she said. 'Let them look,' he buried his face in her hair. 'You're mine.' Lunch was a magnificent affair with pates, French sausage, every type of grill—to order and to be cooked especially for them— before them, salads, cheese, tarts and other puddings and desserts that were a wild mixture of fruits and cream whipped into dangerous fattening concoctions ... and jugs of wine. Nikki found herself tensing when she saw the labels on some of the bottles which stood nearby—La Provence, Stellenbosch. The evening was long and gentle and they watched the moon rise, from their high stools in the ladies' bar. The windows started at their feet and below they could see the floodlit tide, bursting into

white fragments against the rocks. Once again they sipped drinks to the soft strains of Ebb Tide. They dined and they danced—and they made love. All else was blacked out—Chardonnay and the converted slave quarters which awaited her attention, when she got back. If this wasn't love, what was? Nikki kept asking herself.

Whole days slipped by. Robberg stood pointing its great mass out of the sea, its rock cliff housing heaths with haunting scents. Gulls continued to wheel and cry, sun- struck fishermen fished among the rocks and sandy slopes. It was a place of sun-dance, sea and sky. And then it was time to go back. Nikki packed and Philip snapped their cases—hers with the new locks On them—shut. Chardonnay waited for them. Servants carried their cases inside. And now their marriage was under a microscope, Nikki thought. The confetti had been shaken out of the cases. She began to take a good look at what she was in for. Few women knew their route—let alone her. She had rushed into this marriage without considering the implications. One of her first discoveries was that Amber Graham was spending a few days at Chardonnay. Well, why shouldn't she? Each time she came she came as a paying guest, after all.

'I see that Amber Graham is here again,' she said, feeling strange in the main house. The rooms which had been hers before her marriage had now been put back on the guest list. 'Yes.' Philip did not turn. 'She often visits here. She comes up from Cape Town whenever she can. She says it gets her away from the town crowds and the swirl of high social life.' 'Does she now?' Nikki could hardly contain the sarcasm from her voice as jealousy reared its head. There was a brief silence and then he said, 'Do you want me to tell you about Amber Graham, Nikki?' After a moment she said, 'No.' 'So in other words you aren't bothered by—all the pretence which surrounds my marriage to you?' 'What pretence?' she asked in a cold little voice, while her heart seemed to close up so that she thought she might suffocate. 'You ... you've never pretended you love me.' 'No,' he said, in a hard voice, 'I haven't.'

Nikki's father had stayed on at Chardonnay and was now preparing to return to Peru. 'I'm sorry Johanne was away for your wedding day,' he said. 'I had hoped to see him before I leave again for Peru, but Lorraine tells me that he's on an extended business trip.' 'So I believe,' Nikki answered, in a tight voice, for she realised that Uncle Johanne had been bitterly disappointed in the fact that she had left La Provence and was to become Philip's wife.

Luciana Bini had also remained in South Africa and had left word to say that she would be returning to Chardonnay after visiting the game reserves. On the day that her father left for Peru Nikki felt like weeping and, noticing this, he said, 'Cheer up, Nikki. It won't be long now and I'll be back to see my first grandchild, perhaps?' He grinned and ruffled her hair. 'And good luck with the school in the meantime.' Smiling, she said, 'Thank you. Look after yourself. I'll be counting the days. I miss you.' 'I'm leaving with a contented mind,' he told her. 'You've made a good choice in selecting a husband, Nikki.' He grinned at Philip. 'Don't let him hear you say that!' Nikki tried to keep her voice light and normal. After her father had gone she kept herself busy. She had set a date for the opening of the finishing school and seemed to be running against time. Philip also seemed to be busy and Nikki had little time to enjoy being mistress of Chardonnay—little time to enjoy the costly and beautiful antiques in Philip's house. They were all there, though, waiting for her—the beautiful chests and many pieces of blue and white Delftware, the many gable- topped armoires with their swollen bases and brass hinges wrought, so long ago, by Malay craftsmen. Eventually, she supposed, she and Philip would entertain in the main gabled house amidst the oaks and the mountains, but right now she had to get the finishing school launched. And, behind thick white walls and golden slatted-teak shutters, the finishing school was beginning to take shape.

During this time, Philip had to take a business trip and Nikki mooched round the converted slave quarters and tried not to think of him. Amber Graham had now left Chardonnay. Were they together? She tried not to think of it and then enjoyed a moment of strange and cruel satisfaction because, in allowing herself to think along these lines, she had tortured herself and reminded herself why she was here as Philip's wife. On the night that he returned there was unseasonable mist on the mountains, thick and cold. A log and fir-cone fire burned in the fireplace in their private drawing-room. Nikki chose to wear an exotic striped caftan in fine off- white wool with stripes in shades of apricot, gold, olive- green and melon. 'You look tired,' Philip said, his eyes going over her, and she felt a stab of disappointment, although under the impatience in his voice she had sensed his concern for her. 'I don't want you working too hard, Nikki. Have you been overdoing things?' A little devil prodded her with a fork. Had Philip been with Amber Graham only to come back to find her, his wife, not as attractive? 'I have to work hard,' she told him. 'The school opens sooner than I care to think.' 'I suggest, therefore, that you employ somebody to help you,' he answered curtly. 'I'll manage. I have to manage if I'm going to get my finances back into some kind of shape, don't I? I've got debts to think off.' 'Forget the finances. That's my baby now, Nikki.' 'And you're not wasting time in reminding me, are you?' She turned away and felt the need to cry.

'You're being ridiculous,' he replied. 'This hardly disturbs me. Forget it!' They were having a drink in the ladies' bar before dinner when Felix arrived, and Nikki concentrated on control. 'Hello,' she said. 'Sit down.' 'I had an appointment with a mutual friend who hasn't shown up,' he said, smiling. 'I got the phone call directly I arrived. Still, no matter. She'll be arriving later this week.' He went on looking at Nikki with something like amusement in his dark eyes. 'I'll tell you all about it when the time is ripe.' Then he transformed the look to Philip, who said abruptly, 'And isn't the time ripe now?' 'No,' Felix answered. 'So you've just got back from your trip?' The way in which he said this seemed to imply that he had known that Philip had been away. 'What was the weather like?' He took the stool next to Nikki and then gave his order to the barman. Against his will, Nikki felt, Philip was drawn into conversation about holiday resorts. They could hear a flurry of cold rain against the typical Cape-style windows. Because it seemed rude not to, Nikki invited Felix to dine with them. After all, he had come to Chardonnay prepared to dine. Later, when they were preparing for bed, Philip said, 'What made you invite Felix to have dinner with us, Nikki? Why us? It was my first night back. He knows other people here, apparently, judging by the number of people he greeted. It would appear that while I've been away, Chardonnay was his second home.'

'Only because it happens to be a hotel,' she answered. 'I mean—people come here to lunch, for one thing ... He's been to lunch, no doubt.' 'I look forward to being with my wife on the night of my return to find Dauphine installed ...' 'Not installed, Philip. He'd only just arrived to visit someone else—or to ... I don't know.' She broke off and shrugged helplessly. 'He knew that I'd been away on a business trip.' 'Yes, but it was only guesswork on his part. Maybe he'd found out by having lunch in the cellar bar. I don't know. I certainly didn't tell him.' 'If it was guesswork,' Philip said sarcastically, 'it was a damned good guess, wasn't it?' Nikki knew that he was goading her and made no reply. 'I'd hoped not to get into this kind of argument once we got back from our honeymoon,' he went on. 'Well, why are we? I'll tell you why, Philip, because when it comes to the Dauphines, you know how to hurt me, and you like to hurt me, don't you?' 'Trying—or liking—to hurt you doesn't come into it,' he snapped. 'But while we're on the subject of the Dauphines, your so-called Uncle Johanne, your father's best friend, was nowhere around when your father came all the way from Peru to see you married.' 'It was just one of these things. Uncle Johanne had to go away.'

'He went away because he didn't want to see you becoming Mrs Philip de Berg of Chardonnay, that's why.' He turned away impatiently. 'I could use a drink,' he said. Nikki watched him go through to the drawing-room where he poured himself a drink and then, without turning, he poured another and then he came back with a glass in each hand. She had lived for this moment of his return and here they were quarrelling. A cold, sobering shock ran through her. Physically aware of him and feeling almost sick with longing, she said, 'I don't want a drink, thank you.' 'Well, I do,' he snapped. 'In that case, go ahead.' Her eyes were wretched. She took a bath and changed into the beautiful nightdress she had looked out for tonight. 'Do you mind if I go to bed?' she asked, standing at the door to the drawing- room. His blue-green eyes went over her. 'Not at all,' he said, and gave his attention to his drink. When he came to bed she pretended to be asleep. 'Nikki?' His voice was soft. She opened her eyes and turned towards him. 'Yes?' 'I won't have Felix hanging around here. Do I make myself clear?' His eyes went to her mouth and then back to her eyes.

Roused by anger, she said, 'Why? Are you jealous? What about Amber Graham, Philip?' 'Let's leave Amber Graham out of this. That might just be a good idea—all round. You might just hear something you don't particularly want to hear. However, let's get this on record. When I wanted to know whether you wished to discuss her, your answer was a very brief and abrupt no. Apparently you're not all that interested. So—we'll leave it that way.' She went on watching him through half-closed eyes, longing to tell him that she'd missed him and that she loved him and waiting, hopelessly, for him to say the same things to her, but he didn't. Suddenly he brushed a tendril of hair from her cheek. 'Leave me alone,' she said, hurt. Then she spread her fingers across her eyes. 'You happen to be my wife,' he said, in a hard voice. 'I was just breaking it gently.' He reached for her hand and held it to his cheek and went on looking at her ... challenging her. His fingers were like steel. 'Or had you forgotten, Nikki de Berg? Has something happened to make you forget while I've been away?' 'I'll never forget.' Her voice was small and choked. 'It's a wonder you didn't draw up a contract and get me to sign my name on it in my own blood. You had it all worked out, right to the fact that I was a de Mist and a suitable candidate. The French Huguenot name de Mist was the big box-office attraction, wasn't it?' 'You're a de Berg now. I'm bored with the name of de Mist,' his voice was brutal. 'Your name happens to be de Berg. Maybe it's just as well I'm back—to remind you, Nikki.'

Philip took her fingers from her eyes and she opened her extravagantly lashed lids, but they closed again as he bent to kiss her. Although he must have felt her tears he went on kissing her. For the first time since they were married Nikki's emotions felt used up, and then suddenly everything else fell away and she hoped that he could not hear the sound of her ragged breathing. This is what I was made for, she thought desperately. For him. For Philip.

CHAPTER NINE BEFORE breakfast Nikki went along to the converted slave quarters. She was wearing a close-fitting body-shirt and impeccably pressed Levis. Philip would never know how hard she'd worked, while he'd been away, she thought. Well, the finishing school was ready now. 'I've achieved something,' she whispered. 'And the school will open without Jacqueline. How I'm going to run it alone, though, still remains a mystery.' She had slipped from the four-poster, leaving Philip sleeping, and it had been impossible to tell, from his handsome sleeping face, whether he was happy or not. The rain had been blown away by a gale in the night. Nikki worked for an hour, unpacking crockery which had arrived. When she went back to breakfast she found that Philip had already eaten and had gone into Stellenbosch on business. Her mood improved after she had eaten. Philip's note to her was pleasant and had ended—love, Philip. That, of course, was insignificant, but nevertheless, seeing the little word written there in his handwriting lifted her depression. She had been busy trying to compile notes on the slaves and slave quarters of Chardonnay which would go towards the history of Chardonnay and which would be of interest to students attending the school. Her mind began to function around these notes. She decided to get the key to the haunted punishment cellar. The obvious thing to do was to visit this chamber herself before writing about it.

With a notebook and sketchbook in an outsize handbag she went to the reception office and asked for the key which unlocked the huge padlock to the cellar beneath some outbuildings at the back of the main house. It had been fascinating doing research on Chardonnay, and she had made the discovery that these particular outbuildings had been erected in 1815. Perhaps it was fitting, she thought wryly, for the new mistress of Chardonnay to be undertaking this task... the task of piecing together the history of the estate. She had long since discovered that the alterations to meet the needs of the first-class hotel it was now had not disturbed the mature beauty of the gracious home. The original wine cellar now housed the reception offices, lounges, dining-room and cocktail bars. The distillery, she learned from delving into files and folders, had become the kitchens. All the thick- walled buildings on the estate had been converted, even the fowl-houses, cowsheds and stables. It was a staggering thought, looking at this beautiful hotel now. A hotel which still managed to preserve the mellow atmosphere of a gracious age—the place which was now her home—the ancestral home of the man she loved. The fame of Chardonnay's cuisine had spread far and wide, accompanied by South Africa's finest wines, many of them from nearby estates, many of them from Uncle Johanne Dauphine's La Provence. 'I'll let you have the key back when I've finished with it,' said Nikki, taking the key from one of the receptionists. 'I'm going off shortly,' the receptionist replied. 'I've got the rest of the week off. Just hang it up in here, in this cupboard where they're all kept. Still doing research?' 'Yes,' Nikki said. 'I'm finding it utterly absorbing. Philip always said he'd show me the old punishment cellar, but he's always too busy, somehow. I want to make a few notes on it and do a few sketches of the outbuildings and cellar.'

'That's where the ghostie hangs out, so watch it!' the other girl laughed. 'I wonder if anybody has ever seen it?' said Nikki. 'Well, they say a guest fainted once after she'd visited it. She said she saw it, although nobody else in the party did. One or two people said they "felt" something. Since then Philip has stopped these conducted tours and keeps it locked. Nobody goes there.' 'I see. Well, I hope to conduct a tour when my girls arrive,' Nikki said. 'Countless notes have been made on the history of Chardonnay. They're all there in the library, but nothing seems to have been done about them. I can't understand it. Philip is so proud of his heritage.' As she walked in the direction of the outbuildings Nikki passed Saul, Vere's son. The young Coloured boy laughed vacantly as she said hello to him and she felt pity for his mother, Vere, who worked in the great kitchen with its many copper utensils of days gone by. 'Hello, Saul. Not at school today?' 'Uh-uh,' he said. 'No school.' His smile wavered. 'Play- play time.' 'Oh, I see.' Nikki's eyes went to his slate. What a tragedy! He was almost a teenager, with the brain of a boy about four. 'But you have your slate,' she said. 'I see you carry it in a pretty little sack. Did your mother make it?' 'Ja,' he said, grinning. Then he stopped grinning and the look he shot back was almost cunning and seemed to say, I know what you're thinking. You think I bunked school, don't you? He had, of

course. Saul hardly ever went to school, so Vere said, anyway. In any case he was a hindrance, if anything, in the classroom. Nikki reached the cellar which was built into the foundations of the outbuildings. The outbuildings still retained the grace and beauty of the traditional Cape- style building with its gables and chalk-white walls. Next to the huge wooden door, with its heavy hinges and ornate door-handle, bougainvillea made a splash of purple. Everything was peaceful... drowsing in the past... Her heart was hammering a little when she inserted the key into the padlock and turned it. The lock sprang apart and she jumped a little at the sound, then after a moment she began to open the door to the cell which was supposed to be occupied by a ghost. Male— or female? Some notes said that it was the ghost of a young male slave who had always worn a coat almost to his knees. Some others mentioned that it was the ghost of an old woman who had died before she had had her revenge on a man who had raped her granddaughter. In an article under the title of 'Occupants of Chardonnay', one of Philip's ancestors had written that the ghost was, in fact, the granddaughter of the old woman. Now that she was here Nikki felt unhappy about it. She pushed open the heavy door which creaked and was a fitting thing to have happened, under the circumstances. The air which came to meet her smelled of damp and leaves and in the gloom beyond was trapped the soul of someone who was reputed to haunt Chardonnay, when least expected. She thought she heard a noise and felt the hair on her arms begin to prickle. Yellow sunlight slanted across the floor now that the door was open, and tiny particles of dust danced on the air which was streaming in. She moved into the cellar and then stooped down and put her notebooks, which she had taken out of her bag, on the floor. Her

eyes went to the walls. She had read that the walls were 'bitten and clawed by fingernails' which could be seen very clearly, and so she went to examine them with her eyes and her lingers. Even with the sun finding its way through the open door, it was a terrible thought that, in days gone by, people had been put in here as a form of punishment and the door closed. That had been the bitter pattern of those times. Eventually slaves were freed ... If she had been locked in here, she thought, she too would have 'bitten and clawed' with her fingernails. As she examined the walls, she felt herself being transported through the ages. The sunlight moved quickly and she jumped and stood frozen with fright, then she found herself looking across the cellar into Saul's vacant smile, as he crouched beside the door; then, before she could do anything about it, he slammed the door shut, plunging her into darkness and completely disorientating her; but she knew, without being out there to see, that he had padlocked her in. For a moment Nikki's paralysed brain refused to accept the conclusion and she did not know how to react or feel, and then she stumbled in the direction of where she thought the door must be and, groping for it with her fingers, she began to beat upon the wood. The darkness wrapped itself around her. 'Saul! Saul— let me out! Open the door. Please! Please!' Her voice rose as she continued to shout. 'Oh, no...' she moaned, on a long shuddering breath. 'No! Saul! Help me.' The darkness was suddenly full of shapes and she screamed. 'I'm locked in.' She stopped screaming. 'I'm locked in,' she whispered, while panic twisted her stomach muscles. 'I'm locked in by a retarded boy who will probably throw the key away and never say a word about this to anyone.' It was so quiet now that she could

hear her ears roaring. She waved her hands in the air and then down, and felt again for the walls. Now she could not remember where the door was. She could see nothing. How had she become so terrified of the dark? But this wasn't just darkness. It was like a black, black weight, pressing against her, suffocating her with its presence. Nobody would even miss the key. She would have to beat and shout until she was exhausted. Once again she began groping her way round, feeling for that part where the wall gave way to the wood of the door. Here she was, she thought, with eyes that could see nothing. Her head struck a wall and she was stunned for a moment. Then she moved around, her fingers searching. It couldn't be true. It was a nightmare. But it wasn't. She began screaming again and pounding the wall, and then the fact that she was in a soundproof chamber hit her with a cold, sobering shock. It even caused her to think calmly and while she thought she could hear her own breathing, with long gasps of sheer effort. She battled for sanity. Once her body slid down and she was on her knees, and she sat with her head on them, and her hair slid forward covering her face. Her hair felt warm and living ... comforting, somehow. She could smell its fragrance—almost like wheat—and lavender. Hair that smelled so beautiful shouldn't be in here, she thought stupidly. Her hair, trying to see ... She pressed her fingers to her cheeks. Something cracked and she stopped breathing, holding her breath until she had to let it out with a long gasp. She thought she felt something and with every hair on her body rising she stumbled to her feet. 'I'm going mad,' she shrieked against the thick walls. 'I'm going mad ... I can't stand it. Let me out!'

At the best of times she had a morbid dread of closed places— places in which she could at least see. Here she could see nothing, although her eyes were staring, staring... For a long while Nikki wept. The sound of her own weeping was, somehow, comforting. Another presence here with her. They were long tearless sobs of hopelessness. After a while she prayed incoherently, pulling at her hair and shaking her head from side to side and shouting. She became hysterical and shouted nonsense. Finally she accepted defeat and her defeat was a physical thing. To cry, or to move about, was beyond her. Once she came round lying on the floor on her face. Her breathing was laboured, but she didn't move. What was the use? So she went on lying there and then she turned her face slightly, so that she could breathe. There seemed to be no air now. It was all used up. They even used to let the slaves out after a certain period of time, she thought... so that they might live ... Blackness possessed her. When she came to her senses again she imagined that she could smell leaves and honey and spices, but in this black airless place there were no leaves and honey and spices. Suddenly she was shouting again. 'I hate French Huguenots! I hate them, hate them ...' She pounded the floor with her fists. She bit her wrists and tasted blood. Then, very, very dimly, she was aware of light. Light. Oh God, light. And—movement. She sighed, a long shuddering sigh. Somebody was with her. 'Don't leave me,' she mouthed the words. To stay would be more horror in a world of such black horror. The blackness that had crushed down on her mind and physical being.

She was being lifted up and her arms hung helplessly at her sides. Her head rolled back. She could feel them. Someone was calling her name, 'Nikki, Nikki! Darling.' Somewhere at the back of everything, all the blackness, she had heard that voice. It belonged to somebody with a golden body ... The voice she knew demanded attention. Now. 'Nikki, Nikki! Say something to me, darling. Oh, my God!' 'Philip?' It was just a whisper. She knew she was lying on a bed. All she wanted was to forget. She did not want to remember the horror, that crushed feeling. The struggling to remain sane, let alone keep alive. 'Try to relax, my darling. You're utterly exhausted.' He took her face between his hands. 'Nikki? I love you, darling ... I love you ...' She was only dimly aware of him. The words, though, imprinted themselves on her mind. 'I love you ...' 'Don't cry, Nikki. It's all right, my darling. It's all right, Nikki.' 'You don't have to say that,' she whispered, 'just because of what's happened.' 'I do have to say it,' he smoothed back her hair. 'I have to say it because it's true. I fell in love with you in a place called Montreux, in Switzerland. Make no mistake about that. I knew you were the girl I wanted and then—I turned selfish. I went out to get you, no matter how.. She slept then, the sleep of the exhausted. And then the sleep of the exhausted, satisfied, gave way to the sleep of the blessed, breathing in the fragrance of the garden which filtered in through

the windows and in a room with a four-poster bed and magic with the glow of reading lamps. It was night. She slept again and then she woke up, alone in the four-poster she had grown to identify with her new home and the man she loved. 'Philip?' She sat up, remembering. He came through from his dressing-room. 'Why are you in there?' Her eyes went over him. 'I wanted you to sleep undisturbed,' he said, coming to her side, then he sat down on the bed. 'How do you feel?' 'All right now. I thought I was doomed, Philip.' Her eyes moved over his face. 'Darling,' he took her hand. 'You don't have to talk now. Try to go back to sleep.' 'No,' she said, 'I want to know. How did you find out?' 'Vere found the key, along with Saul's slate, in a little bag she'd made to hold it. She was puzzled but it was only afterwards, when you were found to be missing and everybody was alerted, that she put two and two together and came forward with the key.' Philip's voice was crisp and a little hostile. 'She managed to get a little sense out of Saul after bribing him with sweets.' 'He didn't know what he was doing,' said Nikki. 'He could have caused you to lose your life,' his voice was hard. 'What made you go there on your own? I realise that you're compiling notes, but you shouldn't have gone there by yourself.'

'You could say that it's a fault of mine to want to make my own mistakes,' she said. 'I—go into things—on my own, without thinking.' 'I could have lost you,' he said. 'The cellar is soundproof. Nobody knew you were there.' 'There's so much I don't understand,' she said. 'We'll talk in the morning,' he told her. 'Why not now?' 'Because I want you to sleep. In the morning we'll breakfast on fresh figs, bananas, mangoes and passion fruit—and we'll talk.' He grinned at her. 'We'll breakfast in the sun and gaze at the serene mountains ... if you feel strong enough.' 'I will,' she said. She held up her fingers and looked at the nails. 'Look,' she whispered. 'They're practically worn down. Look at my nails. It was a nightmare!' 'Try to forget,' he told her, kissing her fingertips. 'Philip,' she said, 'you didn't have to say that you loved me—just because of this.' Her eyes were wretched. 'I mean what I said, Nikki. I love you. My whole life revolves around you. I was possessed by you. I was determined the Dauphines were not going to get you. I'm still possessed. I was possessed by the absolute determination that you would marry me, regardless of whether you actually loved me or not.' 'Why didn't you tell me?' she asked.

'I want you to rest now,' he said. 'No. I want to talk.' 'What do you want to talk about?' he asked. 'Do you want to talk about this—this fault of yours?' His voice was abrupt now. 'Fault?' Her eyes widened. 'You mentioned that it's a fault of yours to want to make your own mistakes. You go into things on your own, you said, without thinking. Perhaps you should have thought before you agreed to marry me. The debts could have been sorted out another way, Nikki.' 'You don't understand women, that's obvious,' she told him, very softly. 'And what's more, you can't understand me very much ...' She touched his lips with her fingers and then he reached for her. 'What are you trying to say?' he asked. 'I'm not trying to say anything. I'm telling you—I love you.' His lips were gentle. Her hideous experience forgotten now, Nikki suddenly wanted him so much she ached. She lay back on her pillows and, with rising excitement, drew him with her, her arms locked behind his neck, her slim body inclined towards his in a gesture of inquiry. She felt the response within him and then he said against her mouth, 'I don't want you excited. Not now, darling, after all you've been through. We have all the time in the world...' 'No,' she murmured. 'Because of all I've been through— Philip...'

He was in the room, looking out of the window, when she awoke in the morning. She could smell the flower fragrances from the garden and knew from the sunshine streaming into the lovely room that it was a glorious day. 'So you're awake?' His voice was filled with fresh concern. 'Yes.' She smiled at him. 'What were you thinking about?' she asked, after a moment. 'I was thinking I'm ashamed of my Huguenot forebears,' he replied. 'I've left the cellar as it stood for historical purposes, but I'm going to have it sealed off.' 'No,' she said quickly, 'don't do that. It would be a pity. It goes with Chardonnay. I was to blame, after all, for going in there on my own. Let's just keep the key in a very private place. After all, Chardonnay was saved by catering for tourists—and tourists are interested in Cape history and the kind of history which goes with places like Chardonnay.' He went on looking down at her, for what seemed a long time, and then he said, 'Nikki, do you love me?' The question caught her off balance. 'I told you I did,' she said. 'Didn't—last night—prove it?' 'I wanted to hear you say it again.' He came over to the bed and kissed her. 'How do you feel?' 'Fine.'

'Where would you like breakfast? Here?' 'No—in the sun.' He slipped the strap of her nightdress down over her shoulder and bent to kiss it. A long shiver ran through her. 'Okay,' he said, against the warmth of her skin. 'In the sun.' They breakfasted at a voile-skirted table. A delighted bronze girl served them, her eyes dancing as she considered their love. In the distance, the purple-hued Cape mountains surrounded the lush sunkissed vineyards and valleys. They drank champagne from cutglass goblets, which had been polished until they gleamed. The punishment cellar which had smelled of damp seemed a thing of the past, but Nikki's nails were a reminder. 'Do you want to talk about us?' Philip asked. 'Yes, I do.' 'For me, it happened in Switzerland. I knew that I wanted you, Nikki—that no other girl would do. I felt that the feeling was mutual. However, when I heard that you'd been engaged to Francois Dauphine and that you were going back to La Provence I wasn't sure. Felix was there, waiting. And then, later, everything seemed to point to the fact that you were going to allow the Dauphines to take control of your life. I wanted to hurt you— hurt myself. It was something like the dread fungus disease which attacks the vineyard. With all the arrogance of the dominant male I wanted to possess you. You seemed responsive, and yet you cried out for Felix at the Oaks Hotel.' 'I was having a recurrent dream,' she told him, and explained about the dream concerning Francois and the fact that it had been Felix who had broken the news of his death to her.

'I was arrogant enough,' Philip went on, 'to believe that things would work out once I'd got what I wanted. On our honeymoon it seemed to me that you were always reminding me that you'd married me to settle your debt.' 'How?' she asked, suddenly hurt. 'Well, you taunted me with remarks like—how does it feel to be married to a de Mist, Mr de Berg? You goaded me when I expressed the feeling that I wanted to please you—that to please you was very important to me—by saying that you were sure this was important to me in that I would get a much better performance out of you. On our wedding night, you said, "Do I have to"? Remember?' 'Oh, I know,' she said, and broke off. 'It's all very understandable, really.' 'I want to tell you about Amber Graham,' he said. 'You should know.' 'You don't have to,' she said, jealous. 'Amber was Francois Dauphine's girl-friend before you came on the scene, Nikki. You didn't know that.' 'No,' she said. Everything went out of focus for a moment. 'I didn't know.' 'Well, she was. Did you know that Francois was always accidentprone?' 'No,' she said again, 'I didn't.'

'He had several accidents before the one which finally claimed his life. In one accident, Amber was in the car with him. She was injured and she lost the baby which she was carrying. His child.' 'Nobody enlightened me,' she said, and thought of Amber Graham with new interest. 'I didn't know. I hardly knew Francois—or Felix. They were always away when I visited La Provence with my father.' 'Not many people knew. Amber nearly died. She was told that there would never be another child. Your Uncle Johanne knew, though, and he did everything in his power to smash the relationship—and he did smash it. Don't you remember Johanne Dauphine saying that the Dauphines had come close to extinction when all but one son of a preceding generation died? He also said that there was now only one Dauphine left in line to carry on after he'd gone, and that Dauphine was Felix, and he wanted to see Felix married and the father of a son as soon as possible. Well, I was damned if you were going to be talked into being that girl, Nikki.' 'Why are you so fond of Amber Graham?' she asked, in a small voice. 'Because she's my cousin,' said Philip. 'That's why. She's got nobody else.' 'I'm glad you told me.' She knew that she was pale. 'After my business trip recently, I saw red when I found Dauphine turning up at Chardonnay, Nikki.' 'He didn't come to see me, that's for sure,' she assured him. 'You've got to believe that.'

'I do. Apart from anything else I do believe you. However, guess who phoned this morning, while you were still asleep?' 'I don't know,' she said. 'Jacqueline?' 'No, not Jacqueline—your friend Luciana Bini. She's been visiting the game reserves.' 'I know about that,' Nikki answered. 'Well, she's not going back to Italy. She's going to be married in Stellenbosch and she'll be settling over in La Provence. When she arrives back, in a couple of days' time, it will be to marry Felix Dauphine. She's asked me to pass the news on to you and that she will travel from La Provence daily, to help you run the finishing school. Apparently she was expected back on the night Felix turned up.' 'Things are moving too fast for me,' laughed Nikki, shaking her head. 'It's all very exciting—except for Jacqueline. I'm sorry you're unhappy about her, Philip.' 'I'm not,' he told her. 'I've accepted the fact that she's married the man she loves.' After a moment she said, 'But you don't know if she is married!' 'I do know,' he replied. 'She sent a telegram this morning, telling me and stating that she—they'd—be back when I've had time to cool off.' 'Everything seems to have taken place this morning while I was busy sleeping my head off. Why didn't you tell me?' 'I wanted to get us sorted out first.'

'And are we?' Her green eyes were mocking. 'What do you think, Nikki?' 'Well...' she laughed a little, 'I think it's pretty obvious, don't you?' Her eyes went to their hands which were clasped upon the shellpink voile tablecloth, adrift with white blossom and green leaves. 'It's all very romantic,' she said. 'White walls, gables, mountains, a plantation of vines in the distance ... this is the first time I've drunk champagne at breakfast time, do you know that?' She lifted her eyes to him. 'Fortunately,' Philip lifted her fingers to his lips, 'every rule exists only to be very gracefully bent, Nikki.'