Those in Peril (Unlocked) (41 page)

‘This is Cayla’s choice. If you oppose it, all you will do is harden her resolve. You’ve learned that already, haven’t you?’

As Cayla helped Hector prepare the barbecue that evening she asked Simon to fetch another bag of charcoal and as soon as he was gone Hector asked her,

‘What happened about your proposed foray into the Sapphic delights of lesbianism? Are you making any progress?’

‘Oh that!’ she replied airily. ‘I got no encouragement from you, so I stopped work on the project.’ She forked another chop off the coals and onto the serving platter and asked without looking at him, ‘I saw you and Simon chatting. So what do you think of him?’

‘To me Simon Cooper looks like a keeper. I think you should think twice before you throw him back in the lake.’

‘I love you, Heck. You have such impeccable judgement of character. But what does my mother think of him?’

‘You should ask her, not me.’ Cayla nodded, and at that moment Simon reappeared with the bag of charcoal. Cayla picked up the platter of chops and carried it into the kitchen. Hector pulled the tabs on another pair of Budweisers and handed one to Simon. They chatted amiably while they waited for the ladies to reappear. Hector learned that he was twenty-six years old, and that he was not only likeable and good looking, but he was intelligent with interests in so many things other than medicine: from jazz music and history to football, fly-fishing and politics. Hazel and Cayla emerged at last from the kitchen bearing salvers of food. Cayla was a few paces behind her mother, and Hector shot her an enquiring glance. She beamed and winked back at him.

Simon left the next morning to be with his own family for the remainder of the holiday. Hazel gave the household staff the day off. It was just the three of them again. All that day Cayla was in a teasing and ebullient mood. They watched football on television and Cayla went into the kitchen and returned with a huge bowl of hot buttered popcorn, which they wolfed while the women rooted loudly for the Texas Longhorns. Hector pretended to understand nothing of the rules of the game.

‘Good Lord!’ he protested. ‘That big gorilla in the red helmet is cheating. He’s throwing the ball forward, and the referee’s letting him get away with it!’ The two women rounded on him merrily, and he grinned. He had stirred them up nicely.

‘All I can say is, it’s neither cricket nor even rugby.’ He backed down, and they realized that he had been having them on. Cayla punched his arm with a full swing.

‘That was not funny!’ she insisted. In the end the Longhorns won and she forgave him his sacrilege. Peace was restored.

‘So what would we like to do now?’ Hazel asked.

‘What I would like to do now, Mother, is talk to you and Heck very seriously,’ Cayla answered. ‘I guess this is a good time for it.’

‘You have our attention,’ said Hazel cautiously. Cayla turned to Hector.

‘You, sir, are turning my mother into a scarlet woman. People are talking. Don’t you think it’s time you did the decent thing by her?’ Hector blinked. Cayla was living dangerously; he didn’t know how to avert the volcanic eruption that was surely coming. He glanced sideways at Hazel and to his astonishment found that she was blushing pinkly. The sight was so splendid that it stopped his breath for a moment, then Hazel smiled.

‘Thank you, Cayla. You have expressed my sentiments exactly,’ she said. They both turned to regard Hector with interest.

‘Well? Let’s hear it from the boy now,’ Cayla suggested.

‘You mean here and now, in public like this?’

‘I’ll have you know that this is not in public. It’s very definitely en famille.’

‘You mean on my knees? The full ritual?’

‘See how clever he is, Cayla darling. He understands exactly what he has to do, with only a small shove and a push.’ Hazel smiled again, but she was no longer blushing. Hector stood up and switched off the TV, then he fiddled with the gold signet ring on his right hand. ‘It doesn’t come off easily,’ he explained. ‘It was my father’s signet ring. It’s all he left me. The ranch went to my little brother.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘“Teddy needs help,” my old man told me, “you don’t. You’ll make it on your own.”’ He rubbed the ring between thumb and forefinger as he looked at Hazel. ‘You are the only one I have loved in all my life more than I loved the Old Man. It’s fitting that you take his ring over from me.’ He went to where she sat on the sofa and knelt before her.

‘Hazel Bannock,’ he said, ‘I love you as much as – more than – man has ever loved woman. You light up my soul.’ Her expression softened and her eyes shone. ‘Will you marry me, and stay at my side through all the long joyous years ahead of us?’

‘Definitely and without the faintest shadow of a doubt or hesitation, I will!’ she replied. He slipped the heavy gold ring onto the third finger of her left hand. It was man-sized and much too large. It slipped around loosely on her finger.

‘This is just a stopgap. I’ll buy you a real engagement ring later,’ he promised.

‘You will do no such thing!’ She hugged the ring protectively to her bosom. ‘This is the most beautiful ring I have ever seen. I love it! I love it!’

‘Now you may kiss your betrothed,’ Cayla invited. He reached out and took Hazel in his arms, and Cayla laughed as she watched them and she said, ‘It wasn’t easy but at last I’ve herded the two of you into the home corral and slammed the gate shut.’

‘W
e have to go down to Cape Town to tell my mother,’ Hazel said. ‘Will you come with us, Cayla? Since you are our self-appointed matchmaker.’

‘Oh, Mother dear, I dare not miss a day of school. I just have to beat Soapy Williams in the finals at the end of next year. You would never believe how he has been gloating over me.’

‘How have the mighty fallen. You took every excuse to bunk off Art School when you were in Paris; even Edith Piaf’s birthday was such an occasion. As I recall.’ Cayla looked as vague as if Hazel was speaking Mongolian rather than English, and she changed the subject.

‘Give my very best love to Granny Grace,’ she said.

Granny Grace was waiting at Thunder City at Cape Town airport when the Gulfstream taxied in. Hazel rushed down the steps to embrace her. Hector gave them a minute or two before he followed her down to the tarmac.

‘Hector, I want you to meet my mater, Grace Nelson. Mater, this is—’

‘I know exactly who this is, Hazel,’ Grace interrupted, turning eyes on him that were an identical blue to Hazel’s and Cayla’s. ‘Welcome to Cape Town, Mr Hector Cross.’

‘How did you know? Who told you?’ Hazel demanded, then her expression cleared. ‘Cayla!’ she exclaimed. ‘I will ring her tattle-tale neck when I get my hands on her.’

‘You do my granddaughter an injustice. You must remember, I am not yet completely senile. I am still capable of reading the slush columns in the celebrity magazines. As you well know, I subscribe to most of them. You and Mr Cross have cut a wide swathe around the globe, young lady. However, I do admit that what information I was not able to garner from that source was emailed to me by Cayla. My granddaughter has a high opinion of you, Mr Cross. I hope it is justified.’

Grace Nelson was a tall slim woman in her late sixties with a daunting air. What must have been great youthful beauty had matured to a statuesque if formidable presence. Her skin was still smooth and almost unlined. Her hair was burnished silver and carefully coiffured. However, the right hand she held out to Hector, although shapely and manicured, was speckled with the liver spots of age. Hector took the hand and kissed the back of it. Grace smiled for the first time since he had come down the steps.

‘It seems my granddaughter was in some degree correct; you have breeding, Mr Cross.’

‘That’s Mater’s greatest compliment,’ Hazel murmured barely audibly.

‘You are very kind, Mrs Nelson. I would be honoured if you called me Hector.’ Grace thought about that for a moment, then she smiled again.

‘Well, seeing that you are to be my son-in-law, I suppose that is acceptable, Hector.’

Grace’s chauffeur drove them out through the mountains and vineyards in the Maybach. They passed through the picturesque little village of Franschhoek and went on up the valley of the Hottentots Holland until they passed through the imposing whitewashed gates of the Dunkeld Estate, named after Grace’s place of birth. Beyond the gates were hundreds of acres of immaculately pruned and groomed vines on low trellises. These were coming into full bearing with bunches of dark purple grapes dangling from the stems.

‘Pinot noir?’ Hector asked, and Grace gave him a questioning look, before she nodded.

‘So you know something about grapes and wines, young man?’

‘Hector knows just about everything about everything there is to know. Sometimes he can be a regular pain in the butt,’ Hazel explained.

‘Don’t be vulgar, Hazel,’ admonished Grace.

The house was Cape Dutch, designed by Herbert Baker in 1910. Grace’s younger brother was waiting on the front porch to welcome them. He was a tall straight man in his early sixties, suntanned and with wide shoulders and flat belly from manual work on his beloved vines.

Hazel introduced them. ‘This is Mater’s little brother, my uncle John, and this is Hector. Uncle John is the winemaker for Dunkeld.’

‘Welcome to Dunkeld. We have heard a great deal about you, Hector.’

‘As I have about you, John. Thirty-two gold medals for your wines over the years, and a ninety-eight-point rating from Robert Parker on your latest Cabernet Sauvignon.’

‘You like wine?’ John looked immensely gratified.

‘I love wine.’

‘Perhaps we can go down to the cellars for a little tasting when the ladies allow you a few spare moments.’ Hazel watched with barely contained amusement as Hector worked his special brand of charm on her family.

On the second day Grace took him down to her cycad garden. It was noted by the Royal Botanical Society at Kew Gardens as being one of the most extensive private collections in Africa. The two of them spent half the afternoon in the garden together and by the time they returned to Dunkeld House the two of them were firm friends, and Hector had been given permission to employ her Christian name.

On the last evening of their visit the entire family was served with dinner in John’s wine cellar. They returned to the big house with sparkling eyes, warm cheeks and garrulous tongues. Grace was only the tiniest bit unsteady on her feet. However, she pleaded a little headache and retired early, but before she went she offered her cheek to Hector to be kissed. The next morning John and Grace drove them out to Thunder City to see them off.

‘You will come to the wedding, won’t you, Mater? And you too, Uncle John.’

‘You have my solemn promise, Hazel my child. We will both be there,’ Grace replied and then she allowed Hector to kiss her cheeks, both of them, and told him, ‘Welcome to our family, Hector. For a very long time Hazel has needed a man like you around.’

‘I will be good to her, Grace.’

‘She’d better be good to you, or she’ll hear about it from me.’

H
azel chose the first day of June for her wedding day, and she managed to whittle down the list of invited guests to a mere 2,460. Hector invited two: his younger brother Teddy and Paddy O’Quinn. Teddy declined the invitation. He had never forgiven Hector for being their father’s favourite. Paddy accepted and in addition took on the job of best man. Uncle John gave the bride away, and Cayla was her mother’s bridesmaid. In the wedding marquee a special armchair with velvet cushions was placed in the front row centre for Grace Nelson, who after a glass or two of Louis Roederer Cristal Champagne had been known to develop a slight list to port.