anywhere for Hinkle opened the boot of the car and put away the feather duster.
Grenville realized he had a problem on his hands. Hinkle was definitely hostile.
Then Helga appeared.
“Do we go?” She went up to Grenville and kissed him lightly on his cheek. “Hinkle? No problems?”
“The luggage is in the boot. We can leave when you wish, madame.”
“Then let’s go. Chris! I can’t wait to show you my Swiss home!”
* * *
Some ten years ago, Herman Rolfe had bought the villa at Castagnola, just outside Lugano, from an American movie producer.
The villa had everything that an imaginative and rich movie producer could devise: an indoor heated swimming pool, an outdoor swimming pool and a vast terrace overlooking Lugano and the lake. There were four bedrooms, each with deluxe bathrooms; sauna baths, servants” quarters, a tiny elevator that conveyed logs from the cellar to the big fireplace, two chair lifts that took you to the main highway if you wanted to go for a walk and didn’t want to descend the hundred and fifty steps through the garden which was floodlit at night. There was a kitchen with its push-button miracles, fully equipped to produce dinner for some twenty people. The stereo radio and gramophone could produce music in every room if you pressed the right button. Every room had a colour TV set. There was a deep freeze cabinet run by its own generator so electrical cuts didn’t matter. Speaker-boxes wired to every telephone throughout the villa allowed you to talk to anyone in any city in the world without moving from your chair, so finely tuned you could hear someone breathing in Tokyo or anywhere else in the world. There was also a movie projection room with twenty plush seats and a vista-vision screen.
Grenville was fascinated as Helga happily showed him around.
They had had lunch on the way. Hinkle had gone to the kitchen. The rooms were ready.
Helga led Grenville to her bedroom.
It was a beautiful room with apricot-coloured leather-padded walls, mirrors, a fitted white wool carpet and fumed oak fittings. The king-sized bed dominated the room.
“Chris, darling!” Helga said. “Hinkle understands. We sleep here!”
Grenville, feeling a little stifled by so much luxury in spite of what he had been used to, asked if he could take a swim.
“The pool, Helga! It’s marvellous. Could I?”
“You are free to do what you like, Chris. This is your home!”
She left him, humming under her breath, and went into the kitchen where Hinkle, wearing a white coat, was preparing dinner.
“Hinkle! I’m so happy!” she exclaimed. “Isn’t he wonderful?”
“He would appear so, madame,” Hinkle said in his lower tone.
Helga laughed.
“Oh, Hinkle! I want to marry him! But you will always be with us.”
“I trust so, madame.”
Laughing, she caught hold of him and whirled him away in an old-fashioned waltz. Without touching her, Hinkle followed her steps and they danced around the kitchen, then she kissed his cheek and left him. His fat face sad, Hinkle began to cut up a chicken.
In her bedroom, Helga threw off her clothes, put on a bathing cap, covered her nakedness with a wrap, and ran down the stairs to the bathing pool.
Grenville was lazily floating, his eyes closed.
Helga dived in, swam under him, surfaced and then dragged him down under the water. Startled, Grenville broke free, spluttering to see Helga, naked, swimming with the ease and speed of a dolphin.
He saw at once he was way out of her class so he moved to the side of the pool and watched her.
What a magnificent swimmer! he thought as she did four lengths at a speed that made him envious, then she came to him and entwined her arms and legs around him. Her mouth found his and his hands slid down her body, pulling her hard against him.
Later, they sat on the terrace, watching the sunset. As the sky turned to a fierce furnace red, Helga took Grenville’s hand.
“I have always hoped to find someone like you,
Grenville realized he had a problem on his hands. Hinkle was definitely hostile.
Then Helga appeared.
“Do we go?” She went up to Grenville and kissed him lightly on his cheek. “Hinkle? No problems?”
“The luggage is in the boot. We can leave when you wish, madame.”
“Then let’s go. Chris! I can’t wait to show you my Swiss home!”
* * *
Some ten years ago, Herman Rolfe had bought the villa at Castagnola, just outside Lugano, from an American movie producer.
The villa had everything that an imaginative and rich movie producer could devise: an indoor heated swimming pool, an outdoor swimming pool and a vast terrace overlooking Lugano and the lake. There were four bedrooms, each with deluxe bathrooms; sauna baths, servants” quarters, a tiny elevator that conveyed logs from the cellar to the big fireplace, two chair lifts that took you to the main highway if you wanted to go for a walk and didn’t want to descend the hundred and fifty steps through the garden which was floodlit at night. There was a kitchen with its push-button miracles, fully equipped to produce dinner for some twenty people. The stereo radio and gramophone could produce music in every room if you pressed the right button. Every room had a colour TV set. There was a deep freeze cabinet run by its own generator so electrical cuts didn’t matter. Speaker-boxes wired to every telephone throughout the villa allowed you to talk to anyone in any city in the world without moving from your chair, so finely tuned you could hear someone breathing in Tokyo or anywhere else in the world. There was also a movie projection room with twenty plush seats and a vista-vision screen.
Grenville was fascinated as Helga happily showed him around.
They had had lunch on the way. Hinkle had gone to the kitchen. The rooms were ready.
Helga led Grenville to her bedroom.
It was a beautiful room with apricot-coloured leather-padded walls, mirrors, a fitted white wool carpet and fumed oak fittings. The king-sized bed dominated the room.
“Chris, darling!” Helga said. “Hinkle understands. We sleep here!”
Grenville, feeling a little stifled by so much luxury in spite of what he had been used to, asked if he could take a swim.
“The pool, Helga! It’s marvellous. Could I?”
“You are free to do what you like, Chris. This is your home!”
She left him, humming under her breath, and went into the kitchen where Hinkle, wearing a white coat, was preparing dinner.
“Hinkle! I’m so happy!” she exclaimed. “Isn’t he wonderful?”
“He would appear so, madame,” Hinkle said in his lower tone.
Helga laughed.
“Oh, Hinkle! I want to marry him! But you will always be with us.”
“I trust so, madame.”
Laughing, she caught hold of him and whirled him away in an old-fashioned waltz. Without touching her, Hinkle followed her steps and they danced around the kitchen, then she kissed his cheek and left him. His fat face sad, Hinkle began to cut up a chicken.
In her bedroom, Helga threw off her clothes, put on a bathing cap, covered her nakedness with a wrap, and ran down the stairs to the bathing pool.
Grenville was lazily floating, his eyes closed.
Helga dived in, swam under him, surfaced and then dragged him down under the water. Startled, Grenville broke free, spluttering to see Helga, naked, swimming with the ease and speed of a dolphin.
He saw at once he was way out of her class so he moved to the side of the pool and watched her.
What a magnificent swimmer! he thought as she did four lengths at a speed that made him envious, then she came to him and entwined her arms and legs around him. Her mouth found his and his hands slid down her body, pulling her hard against him.
Later, they sat on the terrace, watching the sunset. As the sky turned to a fierce furnace red, Helga took Grenville’s hand.
“I have always hoped to find someone like you,
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