flat surface. It was hot, despite the rain. There was a hairdresser torturing, by the look of it, one of the model’s hair into ringlets with a hot hair iron.
‘It matters,’ Chilli stated through her teeth. ‘The models need someone behind the scenes. You must do it, Kimberley!’
Kim opened her eyes. ‘Do what?’
‘Co-ordinate the clothes.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t know the ins and outs of the outfits, how they do up, what shoes—I’ve got no more idea of what goes with what than…than the man in the moon!’
‘Then we must cancel.’ Chilli flapped her arms, then buried her face in her hands.
‘Don’t be silly,’ Kim remonstrated this time. ‘I’ve got a hundred people sitting out there dying to see your clothes! They’ve paid a small fortune and some of them nearly
drowned
getting here. Look, I know you weregoing to compère and you probably know it off by heart, but if you’ve got some notes, I’ll do that and you can stay behind the scenes and sort things out here.’
‘Won’t like that, but here,’ one of the models murmured in an aside to Kim and put a sheaf of printed notes into her hand, a numbered description of all the outfits.
‘No!’ Chilli said dramatically. ‘You couldn’t possibly handle the compèring.’
‘‘Specially not with the most gorgeous, sexy man I’ve seen for years sitting in the front row!’ came another aside, beamed Kim’s way.
Kim frowned and peered through a crack in the makeshift wall. There was only one man sitting in the front row to date—Reith, sitting with Molly Lawson, chatting away comfortably.
Kim stared at him through the crack and discovered she could have killed him. He was wearing jeans and a navy leather jacket. His hair looked damp but he was entirely at ease as he and Molly chatted. Not only at ease but, with his tall body squashed into a folding chair, he still managed to look formidably attractive, dark and exciting and enough to take your breath away …
Then they laughed, he and Molly, and she thought furiously—how dare you, Reith Richardson? How dare you carry on as if there’s nothing amiss? How dare you not be here for
me
when I needed help with generators and all sorts of things earlier?
How dare you turn up now and steal the show so they’re even talking about you backstage?
Then she froze because he looked up and seemed tobe looking straight at her. A tremor ran through her and she was rooted to the spot for a long moment until she turned away and made a decision—no hysterical fashion designer was going to dictate anything to her, let alone be offered the chance to drool over her husband.
She grimaced immediately as the irony of this hit her but it also hit her at the same time that that was what she’d been unable to put her finger on in Chilli George at Molly and Bill’s dinner party—a very subtle but nonetheless perceptible interest in Reith. And she didn’t care if it made no sane, rational sense but that annoyed her all the more.
She turned back. ‘That’s my last offer, Chilli,’ she said coolly. ‘But I’ll help you pack up if you like, if that’s what you really want to do. We’ll have to refund—’
Chilli came to a hasty decision. ‘No. But, for heaven’s sake, get me a glass of…something and I don’t mean a soft drink.’
Kim smiled more warmly at her. ‘What a great idea! I’ll have one too.’
Hours later, Kim drove back to Saldanha.
It had stopped raining but the night air was misty and cool.
She threw her car keys down onto the hall table, stretched, kicked her shoes off and hesitated.
She could see partly into the lounge, with its lovely lamps that Mary would have lit. With its beautiful rugs on the shining parquet floor, the linen settee covers and the bowl of magnificent roses on a drum table. And shesmiled as she thought how well wine, grapes anyway, and roses went together.
But did she want to go straight upstairs to bed or did she want a nightcap to round
‘It matters,’ Chilli stated through her teeth. ‘The models need someone behind the scenes. You must do it, Kimberley!’
Kim opened her eyes. ‘Do what?’
‘Co-ordinate the clothes.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. I don’t know the ins and outs of the outfits, how they do up, what shoes—I’ve got no more idea of what goes with what than…than the man in the moon!’
‘Then we must cancel.’ Chilli flapped her arms, then buried her face in her hands.
‘Don’t be silly,’ Kim remonstrated this time. ‘I’ve got a hundred people sitting out there dying to see your clothes! They’ve paid a small fortune and some of them nearly
drowned
getting here. Look, I know you weregoing to compère and you probably know it off by heart, but if you’ve got some notes, I’ll do that and you can stay behind the scenes and sort things out here.’
‘Won’t like that, but here,’ one of the models murmured in an aside to Kim and put a sheaf of printed notes into her hand, a numbered description of all the outfits.
‘No!’ Chilli said dramatically. ‘You couldn’t possibly handle the compèring.’
‘‘Specially not with the most gorgeous, sexy man I’ve seen for years sitting in the front row!’ came another aside, beamed Kim’s way.
Kim frowned and peered through a crack in the makeshift wall. There was only one man sitting in the front row to date—Reith, sitting with Molly Lawson, chatting away comfortably.
Kim stared at him through the crack and discovered she could have killed him. He was wearing jeans and a navy leather jacket. His hair looked damp but he was entirely at ease as he and Molly chatted. Not only at ease but, with his tall body squashed into a folding chair, he still managed to look formidably attractive, dark and exciting and enough to take your breath away …
Then they laughed, he and Molly, and she thought furiously—how dare you, Reith Richardson? How dare you carry on as if there’s nothing amiss? How dare you not be here for
me
when I needed help with generators and all sorts of things earlier?
How dare you turn up now and steal the show so they’re even talking about you backstage?
Then she froze because he looked up and seemed tobe looking straight at her. A tremor ran through her and she was rooted to the spot for a long moment until she turned away and made a decision—no hysterical fashion designer was going to dictate anything to her, let alone be offered the chance to drool over her husband.
She grimaced immediately as the irony of this hit her but it also hit her at the same time that that was what she’d been unable to put her finger on in Chilli George at Molly and Bill’s dinner party—a very subtle but nonetheless perceptible interest in Reith. And she didn’t care if it made no sane, rational sense but that annoyed her all the more.
She turned back. ‘That’s my last offer, Chilli,’ she said coolly. ‘But I’ll help you pack up if you like, if that’s what you really want to do. We’ll have to refund—’
Chilli came to a hasty decision. ‘No. But, for heaven’s sake, get me a glass of…something and I don’t mean a soft drink.’
Kim smiled more warmly at her. ‘What a great idea! I’ll have one too.’
Hours later, Kim drove back to Saldanha.
It had stopped raining but the night air was misty and cool.
She threw her car keys down onto the hall table, stretched, kicked her shoes off and hesitated.
She could see partly into the lounge, with its lovely lamps that Mary would have lit. With its beautiful rugs on the shining parquet floor, the linen settee covers and the bowl of magnificent roses on a drum table. And shesmiled as she thought how well wine, grapes anyway, and roses went together.
But did she want to go straight upstairs to bed or did she want a nightcap to round
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