by Ria
Janey frowned suddenly. It seemed impossible to think of her father as a
man nearing retirement age. 'Will you manage financially when you're no
longer working?'
'With your father's years of service with the government,' her mother
intervened, 'his pension should be sufficient to see us through.'
'But---'
'We have a little nest-egg put away which we could draw on if the need
arises,' her father interrupted, patting her arm as he sensed her concern.
Janey accepted her father's reassurance with a brief smile, but she made a
mental note to ensure that, when the time came, they would not go without
while she was able to live in unaccustomed luxury.
'Daddy, does the name Portia de Waal mean anything to you?' she asked
suddenly, unable to curb her impatience much longer.
'Well, my grandfather had a sister by the name of Portia.'
Excitement quivered through her. 'Are you sure?'
'I'll get the family Bible,' he said, pushing back his chair. 'All the names are
in there.'
'Why are you questioning your father about this ... Portia?' her mother
wanted to know when he had left the kitchen.
'I'll explain later,' Janey said hastily as she heard her father's heavy
footsteps returning down the passage.
He placed the large old family Bible with its solid leather cover on the
kitchen table and opened it. The fragile pages were yellowed with age, but
the printed Dutch words were still clearly legible.
'Yes, here it is,' he said, running, his finger down along the inside of the
cover where the names were written in faded ink. 'Portia de Waal, and it's as
I said. She was my grandfather's only sister. According to the dates here, she
was born in 1861 and died in 1887.'
That would have made her ... twenty-six,' Janey murmured thoughtfully,
the approximate age that woman in the portrait could be.
'Hm ...' her father nodded, clenching his pipe between his teeth. 'I've just
recalled something my father once told me. Not long after my grandfather
was married, my great grandfather moved to Johannesburg with his wife and
daughter Portia. It was at the time of the gold rush, if I remember correctly.
My great-grandfather died not long after they arrived there, but my great-
grandmother and Portia decided to stay. It was only after Portia's sudden
death that the old lady returned to the Cape to finally make her home with
her son, my grandfather, but she didn't live long either. Apparently the
journey, and the death, of Portia, were too much for her.'
Janey's pulse rate quickened now with a strange excitement. 'You haven't a
photograph of her, perhaps?'
'I may have one in that old wooden box in the outside room.'
'Could we have a look?' Her father's obvious reluctance to search through a
box of old dusty photographs made her clutch his arm with a degree of
urgency. 'It's very important, Daddy.'
'Come on, then,' he sighed and, with an apologetic glance at her mother,
she followed him out into the backyard to the stone building they used as a
storage room.
It was a near impossible task searching through all those old photographs
while at the same time trying not to get covered in dust, but their effort was
rewarded when her father extracted a small photograph which had been
hidden among the larger ones.
'This must be it,' he said, blowing the dust from the surface and turning
towards the light filtering in through the small window. 'It's signed, "To my
darling brother, with love, Portia".'
'It is her!' Janey exclaimed breathlessly when she finally held the small
photograph in her trembling hands. Although it was not in colour, there was
no doubt in her mind that the girl in this photograph was the same girl who
had sat for that portrait which now hung in the attic of Rudolph's home.
'Daddy ... do you notice something about this photograph?'
Her father studied it closely over her shoulder. 'Well, it's pretty old and
faded, but ... good heavens!' He removed his pipe from his mouth and
stared at Janey. 'The resemblance is quite striking.'
'Janey, what is all this about?' her mother demanded after they had
returned to the kitchen and had shown her the portrait of Porda de Waal.
With two pairs of eyes fixed intently upon her, Janey drew a steadying
breath and explained. 'In the large attic room of the Brink home there's a
portrait in oils hanging against the wall. It's a portrait of Portia de Waal.'
The stunned silence that followed Janey's disclosure was broken only by
the insistent ticking of the clock on the kitchen dresser. It was impossible to
grasp the significance of this discovery while her mind snatched at several
explanations, only to discard them a second later.
'Have you questioned them about it?' her mother asked eventually,
releasing a wriggling Andrew but keeping a watchful eye on his progress
across the room.
'I have—sort of—but now that I've discovered more about her, I'm going
to insist that Mrs Brink fills in the missing pieces to the puzzle.'
The thought that kept plaguing Janey on her way back to the hotel was:
What was the portrait of one of her ancestors doing in the Brink home?
What earthly connection could there have been between her family, and that
of Rudolph? It was all extremely puzzling, but it would have to wait until
she had the opportunity to speak to Mrs Brink and force her, if necessary, to
reveal everything she knew.
Rudolph was on the telephone when she walked into their suite, and she
realised instantly that he was speaking to Sybil. This was really too much,
she decided angrily. They had been in Cape Town only a few hours, and he
was already on the telephone to that woman!
He turned then and saw her. 'I won't be a moment, Janey,' he said, placing
his hand over the mouthpiece.
'Please don't let me interrupt,' she fumed, sweeping past him, but he ended
the conversation abruptly and caught up with her just as she was about to
enter her room.
'Janey!1 His hand gripped her arm and jerked her to a halt. 'Sybil wants me
to pick up a few things for her.'
'You don't have to explain,' she said with icy calmness.
'I obviously do, judging by the way you're acting.' His glance was faintly
mocking as he released her arm, but he did not move out of her way, and her
anger rose sharply.
'Your affair with Sybil Rampling doesn't interest me in the least. But I do
wish you'd be a little more discreet.'
His face darkened. 'Be careful, Janey. You're flinging accusations around
that could make me lose my temper.'
'What else am I supposed to think when you spend every free moment
with her? Even phoning her from the Cape!'
His narrowed eyes, rapier-sharp, flicked over her with cool, deliberate
precision, making her realise the dangerous position she was in. She was
alone with him, and completely at his mercy if he should choose to ignore
the fact that he had promised to leave her alone.
'One day, Janey,' he said in a voice that was low and threatening, 'one day
you'll drive me just that little bit too
far, and then I shan't be responsible for
my actions. So be warned.'
He stood aside then and, with thudding heart, Janey slipped past him and
entered her room, closing the door firmly behind her.
'I suggest you hurry up and get dressed,' Rudolph called through the door.
'We have an hour before we have to leave for Rondebosch.'
Oh, bother the man! she thought irritably, grabbing a few things and
dashing through to the bathroom. It was more than fortunate that they each
had their own bath-
room, or they might have clashed about that as well, she thought dismally
as she opened the taps and proceeded to ^ undress.
She bathed quickly, giving herself ample dme to change into something
suitable for the evening, and when she finally examined herself critically in
the mirror, she knew that she had made the right choice. The expensive
pale blue silk matched her eyes and clung gently to her slender figure, to
hang in soft folds on to her feet, which were barely noticeable in their
delicate silver sandals. The off- the-shoulder cut displayed her slender neck
and creamy skin to perfection, while her hair was brushed away from her
face to fall in soft waves down to her shoulders.
Satisfied with herself, she went through to the lounge to find Rudolph
waiting for her. He looked immaculate as always in his dark evening suit
and black, string tie, but his eyes disturbed her pulse rate as they swept
over her. From his expression, as he came towards her, she was unable to
tell whether he approved or not.
'I have something for you,' he said, extracting a flat black case from the
inner pocket of his jacket and opening it. Against the satin interior lay a
diamond pendant that sparkled brilliantly as he moved it towards the light.
'It will look perfect with the dress you're wearing, and it should suit your
expensive taste.'
Speechless with surprise, she overlooked that last remark and allowed
him to fasten it about her neck, trembling slightly as his warm fingers
brushed her hair aside and touched her skin.
'I ... d-don't know how to thank you,' she stammered foolishly when he
had turned her about to inspect the result.
'Try and say it with a kiss,' he suggested mockingly, his hands moving
caressingly against her shoulders and sending a current of awareness
surging through her.
There was no escape from his touch, or the clamouring emotions that rose
within her at his nearness. Not even his mockery had the power to stir her to
anger at that moment as she raised herself on tiptoe and did as he had
suggested. But her kiss landed somewhere against the side of his mouth, and
his mockery increased as she blushed and stammered her thanks.
'You were a little off the mark, Janey,' he pointed out with abrupt
deliberation, 'but we haven't time now to go into that matter.'
'Where are we going, and to whom?' she asked eventually when they were
driving along the freeway.
'We're going to the home of friends of mine in Ronde- bosch—Pierre and
My ma van Wijk.' He glanced at her briefly. 'It will be business and pleasure
combined this evening, so prepare yourself for quite a number of guests
besides ourselves.'
The thought that a sea of strange faces were waiting for her to appear made
her sink into a nervous, apprehensive silence. She was unprepared, however,
for the splendour of the gabled house set in spacious gardens, and her
apprehension was partially forgotten as she glanced about her with interest.
The doors and windows had been flung wide on this warm night in early
autumn, and judging by the number of cars lining the circular driveway, the
van Wijks' guest list could have numbered anything close to twenty.
All the lights were on in the house, lighting up the path- was to the
beautifully carved door with its brass knocker and, but for Rudolph's
steadying hand beneath her elbow, Janey would have preferred to shrink into
oblivion when a slim, fair-haired woman stepped out on to the patio to wel-
come them.
This was Myrna van Wijk, elegant, charming, and with that rare talent to
make one feel at ease after only the briefest introduction. Pierre van Wijk,
she discovered seconds later, was tall, dark, and distinguished-looking with
his hair greying slightly at the temples. He gripped Rudolph's hand while
they exchanged a few words, and his welcome was equally warm when he
finally turned towards Janey to be introduced.
His scrutiny was a little more intense than his wife's, but there was a warm
smile in his eyes when he spoke. 'As always, Rudolph, you choose the best.'
Janey flushed deeply, refusing to meet Rudolph's sidelong glance. She
heard him murmur something that made Pierre chuckle, but Myrna saved the
moment by taking her arm and introducing her to the other guests.
She found it difficult afterwards to put a name to all the faces seated down
the vast length of the dinner table. One of the guests, however, caught her
attention—Anthony Parker. He was slightly taller than Janey, dark, suave,
and an American. He smiled often, displaying strong white teeth in his
tanned face and, more than once, she caught him staring at her quite openly.
There were no after-dinner rules in the van Wijk home, for everyone
seemed to go his own way after coffee had been served, including Rudolph,
and Janey found herself alone in the living-room with a few other guests, as
well as the American, Anthony Parker. She glanced about her ap-
prehensively and Mr Parker, noticing this, came instantly to her side.
'May I get you something to drink?' he offered politely, gesturing towards
the tray of drinks at the other end of the room.
'Yes, please,' she nodded absently, searching for Rudolph among the
people standing about.
'Don't go away now,' Anthony Parker warned playfully, forcing her
attention back to himself.
Janey shook her head as he departed, her nervousness becoming slightly
defiant. If Rudolph could leave her alone like this among strangers, then
why shouldn't she enjoy the company of someone like this American,
Anthony Parker? He had made no effort to hide his interest throughout din-
ner, so why not give him her undivided attention while Rudolph was
occupied elsewhere?
'I hope you like my personal mixture,' the American said, returning to her
side with a tall glass filled with an amber-coloured liquid, ice, and a sprig of
mint.
Janey took a tentative sip while he stood waiting expectantly. 'Whatever it
is, it's lovely,' she assured him.
'That's my Parker Special,' he smiled, his glance travelling systematically
down the length of her. When his eyes met hers once more, he looked almost
bashful. 'Will you permit me the pleasure of saying that you're the nicest
thing that's happened to me for quite some time?'
She lowered her glance swiftly. 'You flatter me, Mr Parker.'
'I assure you, I'm not,' he contradicted swiftly, his hand warm and slightly
moist beneath her elbow as he guided her towards two vacant chairs in the
corner of the room beside the potted ferns. 'And the name is Anthony
—Tony
to my friends.'
'Thank you ... Tony,' she smiled, but her glance was suddenly arrested by
two grey-green eyes across the room, eyes that were angry and accusing
before their owner turned away and became engrossed in conversation with
their host. Flustered by Rudolph's sudden appearance, she said the first thing
that came to mind. 'Are you married, Tony?'
'No, ma'am,' he shook his dark head sadly, although the dark eyes meeting
hers were definitely humorous. 'I haven't yet had the pleasure of involving
myself in the delectable state of matrimony.'
Janey steadied herself swiftly, but found it difficult to ignore Rudolph's
imposing figure as he towered above the
other guests. 'I think Mrs van Wijk mentioned you were here in South Africa
on business?’
'Yeah, engineering's my line,' he drawled, 'and if the girls are anything
like as lovely as you, I might just make up my mind to settle here.'
Embarrassment stained Janey's cheeks as she laughed self-consciously.
'I would prefer to think you might consider staying because you like my
country.'
'But I do, Janey,' he insisted seriously, making natural use of her name
after hearing Myrna address her as such. 'Do you know Cape Town well?'
'I lived here most of my life,' she told him, sipping at her drink and
beginning to wonder at the lightheadedness she was experiencing.
'Say, what are you doing tomorrow?' Tony asked urgently, leaning towards
her.
'Nothing in particular, why?'
'I'm at a loose end during the morning,' he explained enthusiastically,
glancing quickly down towards the other end of the room. 'Do you think
your formidable husband might object if I asked you to accompany me on a
quick > tour of the city?'
Janey held her breath. Be a devil, she thought. If Rudolph can amuse
himself with Sybil, then why can't you spend an interesting morning in
the company- of Tony Parker?
'I don't see why my husband should object,' she said at length, her heart
hammering against her ribs at the mere thought of what Rudolph might
have to say.
'That's great!' Tony smiled. 'I'll pick you up at the hotel at... nine tomorrow?'
'That would be perfect.'
On the way back to the hotel that evening, Janey was beginning to have
second* thoughts about her arranged meeting with Tony Parker the
