by Bev Robitai
Colwyn had asked her to meet him in the lobby at 10am, so she left Mike’s place in good time to look as if she’d just come downstairs a little early. She had taken pains with her appearance, dressing in what she considered overpriced fashion-plate casual clothing, with a jaunty sun-visor to keep her hair tidy and just enough make-up to complete her air of sophistication. Mike had selected an expensive pair of sunglasses for her despite her protests that a two dollar pair looked exactly the same, assuring her that Colwyn would spot the difference immediately.
She settled herself on a chair by the door and prepared to greet Colwyn with as much warmth and charm as she could muster.
He bounded out of the elevator at one minute to ten, looked at her searchingly as he crossed the foyer, and took both her hands in his as he pulled her to her feet.
‘Robyn! You look fabulous! Are you all set for a day on the lake?’ His touch was cool and dry, his hands softer than hers.
‘Oh yes, rather! Jolly boating weather, what?’ She was aware that she was overdoing the English accent and tried to tone it down a bit. ‘I’m so looking forward to seeing your boat. Is it very far away?’
‘No, just down at the marina. Are you all right to walk? It’s only about five minutes away.’
She smiled winsomely into his blue eyes and picked up her bag.
‘Ready when you are, Captain. Lead the way!’
Once on board she stowed her bag carefully in the cabin and made her way to the cockpit. She almost made the mistake of helping Colwyn to cast off but suddenly remembered that she wasn’t Robyn Taylor from the Marlborough Sounds where boating was a way of life, she was Robyn Heverill who adored boats but wasn’t very practical. As she settled onto one of the padded squab seats in the cockpit, she couldn’t help glancing back towards the dock where she had fallen headlong into the lake only a few days ago. Then she’d been powerless and enraged. Now she felt firmly in control.
The throaty roar of the engines prevented conversation, so she simply smiled at Colwyn now and again while enjoying their speed across the water. He cut between two sailing boats, curving sharply to send up a wall of water first one side then the other, leaving them rocking violently in his wake. She whooped and gave him a thumbs-up, carefully hiding her contempt for his bad seamanship.
Once near Centre Island, he throttled back the motors and let the boat ease forward at a snail’s pace.
‘Would you like a drink, Robyn?’
‘Ooh yes please. Do you happen to have any fruit juice?’ she asked, casually.
‘Of course. I’ll be right back.’
She watched carefully as he went to the fridge and got out two bottles. Next time, she wanted to fetch the drinks herself.
They sat in the cockpit together, sipping their juice and gently rocking in the slight chop on the lake. Above them a light veil of cloud softened the full heat of the sun, and a gentle breeze tempered the day’s humidity. Robyn caught a whiff of his pungent cologne now and again, but mixed with the scent of engine fumes and lake water it was almost pleasant.
‘Have you had the Angel Lady long, Colwyn?’ she said idly, just making conversation.
‘A few months. My last boat was stolen, unfortunately.’ He smiled complacently. ‘Just as well I’ve got a really good insurance policy.’
Aha, thought Robyn. That’ll be why Mike got on to you.
‘Did the police ever find it?’ she asked innocently.
‘Sadly, no,’ he said, with convincing regret. ‘Just one of those things, I guess. Still, it meant that I could buy this little beauty, and she’s a whole lot better than the one I lost.’
‘Yes, she’s terrific. Gosh it’s hot in the sun, isn’t it?’ She fanned herself with her hand. ‘Would you like another drink, Colwyn? I’ll get them.’
‘Thank you Robyn, that would be lovely.’
She went below, and rapidly retrieved one of her drugstore purchases from her bag. Shielded by the fridge door, she poured a small sachet of powder into a bottle of juice and shook it well. Taking another bottle for herself, she stepped back into the cockpit and handed Colwyn the uncapped juice.
‘Lovely and cold,’ she said appreciatively, and took a long swallow of her drink.
Colwyn did the same. Robyn met his eyes and smiled warmly, knowing that in about an hour the urbane Colwyn Symons would be feeling extremely uncomfortable.
They moved on along the chain of islands, watching swimmers and jet-skiers enjoying the water and safe sandy beaches. They buzzed along narrow waterways between islands, past extensive yacht marinas and inhabited areas where colourful houses were laid out along short, straight streets. At one point, Robyn was astonished to see a plane apparently coming in to land right behind them, until Colwyn showed her the harbour chart with the Island airport marked on it.
About then, a strange look crossed his face.
‘Robyn, could you take the wheel for a moment, please? I just need to go below.’
‘Sure, no problem.’ She relieved him at the helm and watched him hurry into the cabin where the door to the ship’s toilet shut smartly behind him.
‘Gotcha!’ she murmured. ‘Thar she blows!’ It was a shame she hadn’t had the chance to get in there first and doctor the toilet tissue with itching powder, but that would keep for another occasion.
Colwyn emerged shakily about ten minutes later.
‘I’m terribly sorry about that. I think I must have picked up some sort of tummy bug.’ He shuddered. ‘Could you take us back in, do you think? Steer for that leading mark, and give me a shout when we’re close to it. I think I’ll just go and lie down - oh.’ He disappeared rapidly back into the toilet.
Robyn opened the throttle and headed back to the mainland, taking delight in bouncing over as many ship’s wakes as she could on the way so that Colwyn would get a good shake-up. She threw her head back and sang all the saltiest sea-shanties she knew.
It was a very good day.
When they reached the marina, she found the berth without difficulty and tied off the mooring lines. Then she used her new cell-phone to call a cab, and escorted Colwyn to it with great solicitude.
He sat back looking pale as they drove the short distance to his apartment building, and Robyn could see beads of sweat standing out on his forehead. She helped him to the elevator, smiling reassuringly at the doorman who was looking concerned.
‘Probably a bit of sunstroke!’ she called. ‘Nothing serious.’
Colwyn fumbled for his keys in front of the apartment door, unlocked it, and hurried into his own bathroom with a low groan.
Robyn looked around. At last, here she was in Colwyn’s apartment - her prime objective – with time to actually accomplish something!
It really was the most luxurious place she had ever seen. Huge tinted windows framed extensive views of the lake, while large art prints gave an air of opulence to the interior. A black leather sofa faced an enormous television, which was flanked by an expensive-looking entertainment centre with a matt black finish.
She explored further, past the bathroom where muffled explosive noises prompted a look of distaste, and towards the bedroom. Here, the room was done out in shades of cream, with heavy drapes matching the brocade bedspread. The carpet was thick underfoot, plain cream, with not a speck of fluff to be seen. A spacious walk-in wardrobe was faced with mirrored doors, while the dresser at the foot of the bed had another large mirror.
‘Fond of ourselves, are we?’ murmured Robyn. ‘Like to watch all the action?’ Her stomach turned at the idea, and she hurried on with the rest of her exploration.
Over by the window was a desk with a computer on it and several shelves of cased disks. Her eyes lit up. That was just what Mike needed. She briefly contemplated hiding a couple of the disks in her bag and taking them home, but rejected the idea straight away. She’d need to be certain that they were the right thing before risking blowing her cover that way. They’d keep till next time. Mike would be able to tell her what to look for then.
The toilet flushed.
Robyn hurried quietly into the living room and was waiting there with an appropriate expression of concern when Colwyn appeared.
‘Oh you poor thing, here - come and sit down. Can I get you anything? A hot water bottle? Some flat lemonade to sip? That’s good for upset tummies.’
He lowered himself carefully onto the leather couch and sat looking wan.
‘No, nothing, thanks.’
‘Should I call a doctor, do you think? Or would you like me to stay for a while and take care of you?’
‘No, that’s very kind of you, but I think I’ll just have a shower and go to bed for now. I’m sorry our day out was cut short like this…’ He broke off, looking strained as another spasm tweaked his intestines. ‘I’ll make it up to you another time. Thanks for all your help Robyn, you’ve been a tower of strength.’
He heaved himself up from the sofa and moved towards the bathroom. ‘Can you see yourself out? I’ll give you a call as soon as I can, OK?’
‘Sure Colwyn, no problem. Goodbye!’ she shouted to the closed door.
Before she left, she pulled out her bleach-filled water pistol and tiptoed into the bedroom, where she placed a couple of tiny dribbles on each of his suit trousers, right by the zipper. The rest of the liquid she squirted below the surface of two of his biggest, glossiest pot-plants.
Then with one last look round, she gathered up her bag and left the apartment.
CHAPTER 6
Once safely back in Mike’s living room, she triumphantly recounted her exploits while he listened patiently.
‘Tell me about his computer,’ he said when she finished. ‘Desktop or laptop? PC or Apple Mac? Was he using flashdrives or DVDs? Was it plugged in or wireless?’
She smacked her forehead.
‘Doh! Sorry Mike, no idea about most of that - it’s all Greek to me I’m afraid. Can you show me what to look for so I’ll be more use next time?’
He looked doubtful. ‘What experience have you had with computers so far?’
‘So far? Within the last twenty-four years? Er, one. Nothing flash, just enough for my pictures and email.’
He rolled his eyes. ‘Great! This will be a challenge. OK, come over here. I’ll start at the very beginning.’
‘A very good place to start.’
He pointed with exaggerated care as if explaining to a dull child. ‘See this? This is the on switch. I is on, 0 is off.’
‘Yeah, why is that? I’ve always wondered why they didn’t choose O for On.’
‘That’s just the way it is, Robyn. Come on, mouth shut, ears open, OK? You should see a standard start-up screen like this, with the icons for different programs. Now, pay attention. The programs we want will probably be on spreadsheets, so look for this one, this one, or that one.’ He indicated three of the icons on his screen. ‘They are the three most commonly-used database programs.’
‘And what do I do when I see one of those?’
‘Download the files to a flashdrive.’ He paused. ‘I take it that blank look means you wouldn’t know how to do that. OK, let’s stick with what you know. Email will do if you have enough time. Select email and send me all the files in that program as attachments, then delete your message from the Sent file.’
‘Mike, this is way too complicated. I’m not going to know what I’m looking at even if I do manage to get Colwyn’s programs open. This really is something you’re going to have to do yourself.’
He sighed. ‘You’re probably right. I can’t teach you enough to do this quickly and without leaving a trace - and any interference with his computer is going to put him on the alert straight away.’
He stretched his arms wide, and Robyn heard a crack from his shoulder joint.
‘How long have you been sitting here at the computer?’ she asked sternly. ‘Have you had any proper exercise today?’
‘No, but I’ve only been working a few hours. I’m fine, really.’
She probed his shoulders with her fingers. ‘The hell you are! Your muscles are tied up like mating snakes. Let me at least loosen them up a bit for you.’
She started to massage his shoulders, gently at first but with increasing firmness. His body was surprisingly hot beneath his shirt, and so lean she could feel the shape of each sinew. He started to ease away from her, but she pushed him back in the chair and worked even harder with her fingers. He groaned, but she couldn’t quite tell whether it was from pleasure or pain. After a few minutes of vigorous massage she could feel that she’d freed up the worst of the knots so she stopped and patted him briskly on the back.
‘There you go, that’s better. You don’t want to go getting RSI or OOS or whatever they’re calling it these days, do you? You need to look after yourself better, mate.’
‘Yes. You’re probably right. Thanks for that,’ he said stiffly. ‘But if you could excuse me now, I’m going to do a few more calculations tonight and I need to concentrate.’
‘Oh. Right, sorry. Goodnight then.’
She left the room, puzzled by his sudden change of mood. She’d only given him a shoulder massage for God’s sake - surely that hadn’t gotten under his skin?
She shrugged it off and prepared for bed, knowing she’d need a good night’s sleep to face job hunting the next day. She’d already prepared a list of photographic studios from the yellow pages, and had worked out a route through the city that would visit the greatest number with the least travel cost.
It was a hot night. She lay with just a sheet over her and tried to sleep, but she couldn’t close her mind to the sound of Mike working in the next room. He was a moody bugger, she mused, you could never be quite sure what he was thinking. One minute he’d be warm and funny, then the next minute he would turn away and retreat into cool formality for no apparent reason. It did nothing for a girl’s self-esteem.
Later she heard him getting ready for bed. One shoe dropped to the floor, then the other. There was a creak of bed springs. After a while she heard the sound of a fan starting up, and she imagined how good it would feel to have air blowing across her overheated body.
She got out of bed and knocked on his bedroom door.
‘Just a second,’ he called, opening it after a few moments.
She grinned at his short Chinese silk robe. ‘That’s pretty!’
‘Thank you. What do you want?’
‘I heard the fan going, and I wondered if you had another one tucked away anywhere. It’s bloody hot tonight isn’t it?’
‘You can have this one.’ He went to unplug it.
‘No! Don’t be silly! You’ve got far more right to it than I have. Please keep it.’
He carried it into the study and plugged it in, despite her protests.
‘It’s part of being a good host,’ he said, averting his eyes from the fact that she was wearing nothing but a long T-shirt.
A spirit of devilment prompted her to say more than she should.
‘And what else would you provide if I asked for it, Mike?’
He flushed. ‘I have my limits. I’m sorry.’
‘Oh for God’s sake, I was only joking! Don’t take it so seriously!’
But he was gone, and the door to his room was closed firmly behind him.
Next morning she set about phoning the studios on her list, and on the third call she was invited to visit for an interview.
‘So what can you do?’ asked the personnel manager of Prince and Bond, leaning back in his chair and lacing his hands behind his head.
‘Well, I can set up and shoot product or portrait shots, I can design and set up lighting, I can arrange props, build sets, run errands and make coffee - which skill can you use?’
He dropped his hands and leaned forward eagerly.
‘You can build sets? Really? Like, set up walls, plaster them, paint them - the whole deal?’
‘Sure, no problem at all. I’ve done plenty of building work back home.’
‘Well in that case, you’re hired! We
’ve got a rush job on that we’re running behind with. Nobody’s free to get the room built and we have to shoot in two days. Can you start right away?’
Robyn grinned. ‘Just hand me a hammer!’
She followed him through a cavernous dimly-lit warehouse where every few yards a camera and a group of lights were set up facing towards a different subject. Some were just tabletops where sets of screwdrivers were laid out in neat arcs, others were corners of fully furnished rooms with windows, curtains, and pictures on the wall.
‘Most of this stuff is for mail order catalogues,’ he called over his shoulder. ‘Bread and butter work, really, though there’s not too much butter these days. The fashion guys downstairs get the jam assignments, mostly outside the studio, working with the beautiful people - it’s a whole different world down there.’
Robyn thought what a great place the room would make for a kid’s game of hide-and-seek, with so many dark corners and things to lurk behind. Pete would have loved it.
He stopped at a large empty space. ‘OK, here’s where we need the set built. It’s a pool room, you know, like a games room kind of thing – a drinks bar across here, window there, light above the table, juke box on that side. All the props are supplied, and the carpet – so what we need right now is three walls to put it all in. Here’s the art director’s sketch with the measurements. Can you handle it?’
Robyn ran her eye over the pencil sketch, then checked the space in front of her.
‘Yes, I think so. Can I have a look at the tools and building supplies?’
‘Sure, I’ll get Tony to show you - he’s our construction guy but he’s flat out right now on another job. He’ll give you everything you need to get started. Come with me.’
He introduced her to a bear-like man who was working on a winter garden set.
‘Tony, this is Robyn, a new wonder-worker come to help us out. Get her started, will you? I figure she can take the games room off your plate.’
‘Hi Robyn, nice to meet ya,’ said Tony. ‘Hold on a second.’ He turned and bellowed towards a doorway. ‘Sanjeev! I said two boxes of grade three snow, NOW - not next week!’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Like training a tortoise - although that’d be quicker. So you can build, eh? Come along to the tool room so you can show me if you know what you’re doing.’
