Welcome to Paradise by Jill Tahourdin

this Herrold bulldozing, and a little more finesse. But oh damn, I was so looking forward to taking her out, dancing with her, seeing her eyes sparkl e ...
    In her room, alone and lonely, Alix had plenty of time to tell herself that she had been a fool, ungrateful and unkind. She took a bath, lay in it for a long time, then zipped on her silk wrapper and telephoned Room Service.
    Not for an invalid’s bowl of soup, though . She had discovered that she was ravenously hungry. When the waiter appeared with the menu, she ordered herself a substantial, delicious-sounding meal. Since she had elected to spend this evening in solitude, at least she didn’t mean to starve.
    Luckily she had a new novel in her case. She took it out, thinkin g, It had better be good.
    She had barely settled in the armchair and opened it when her doorbell rang.
    “Come in.”
    A page entered, carrying a big sheaf of gladioli in Cellophane, and a vase. Under his arm was a big bundle of shiny magazines—all the ones she liked best.
    “From the gentleman in number 506,” the page told her with a smirk.
    “Thank you.” Seeing that he didn’t at once go, she remembered that of course he was waiting for his tip. When he had left, satisfied, she looked at the card that was tied to the flowers.
    “Wake up well. Love. Richard,” was all it said.
    It made her feel more of a heel than ever.
    But she knew that tomorrow, when she was face to face with Bernard, she would be glad about tonight. Though hadn’t someone said, somewhere, that when you are old, the only things you really regret are the things you didn’t do?

 
    CHAPTER EIGHT
    RICHARD’S pleasant voice over the telephone said, “Good morning, Alix. Feeling better?”
    “Much better. Quite recovered, in fact.”
    “That’s good.”
    “Thank you for the flowers and magazines, Richard. It was very sweet of you.”
    She heard him laugh.
    “Yes, wasn’t it? The Herrold touch, m’m? Look, Alix—if you really feel up to it, I’d like to hire a car. We’ve got the morning—I could show you the sights before we need to report at the air terminal.”
    At least I owe him that, Alix thought. She said at once,
    “I’d love that, Richard. If you’ll let me go Dutch on the car ... ”
    “I won’t let you go Dutch,” came his decisive reply. “Think what I saved on you last night! What I will do is collect you down below, in the foyer, in half an hour’s time. Can do?”
    She felt suddenly gay, don’t care.
    “Can do,” she echoed. “Shall I pack and bring my air-cases, so that we needn’t come back here?”
    “Do that. We’ll go straight on to the airport when we’ve finis hed seeing the sights.”
    So they spent the morning together, seeing the mines, and the cyanide dumps, and the streets of skyscrapers, and the fine shops, and the lovely homes and gardens, complete with swimming pools and tennis courts, of the rich Johannesburghers out in the city’s lavish suburbs.
    Richard was careful to be just the char min g escort. No lovemaking, either by word or look. He succeeded so well that Alix thought he must have seen the glimmer of the red light too.
    She had awakened feeling nervous. Butterflies had fluttered inside her as she reminded herself that in a few hours she would have met Bernard. She would know the best—or the worst, she supposed ... Richard’s calm cheerfulness soothed her.
    She said suddenly, “Stay with me, won’t you, and meet Bernard?”
    “If you wish. But only for a minute. You’ll have such lots to talk about.”
    “Yes. Yes, we shall, of course.”
    He said gently, “I hope you’re going to be very, very happy.”
    She smiled with her lips. Not he noticed, with her eyes. She was worried, he could see.
    He had been right to back his hunch.
    She managed to get through the take-off, and the landing, without needing to have her hand held this time.
    “Quite the seasoned air traveller now,” Richard said, smilin g at her.
    “I believe I’m actually