LITMIR.BIZ

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if I’m late,’ she groaned to herself as she dashed for the elevator to the eight floor. ‘Can’t this thing go any faster?’

      ‘I didn’t think you’d be here for this function at all,’ said a voice beside her. It was Dilys, her fellow trainee, whom she’d overlooked in her agitation. They’d joined on the same day, soon become flatmates, and been “partners in crime” (as Dilys was fond of putting it) ever since. ‘You’ve just gotten back from Boston,’ she observed.

      ‘Right, and I was supposed to be going straight to my parents’ house from the airport. But Mr Dacre called and said to look in at the hotel first. That’s why I’ve still got my luggage with me.’

      At that moment the elevator doors opened, and Dilys grasped Helen’s arm, steering her towards the ladies’ room. ‘Dump your things in here,’ she said. ‘And put your glad rags on.’

      She was a petite blonde with a come-hither eye. Helen was taller, more statuesque, with shoulder-length hair as black as a raven’s wing, and dark, expressive eyes. In her mid-twenties her lush beauty was reaching its height, but she thought her appearance reflected too accurately her Sicilian ancestry, and longed for blue eyes and fair skin.

      Yet while she might disparage her looks she knew how to dress them to advantage. Her warm skin cried out for deep tones, and now she looked through her luggage until she found a dress of dark red silk that caused her eyes to glow theatrically. A vigorous brushing made her hair gleam and bounce richly about her shoulders.

      Dilys regarded her with satisfaction. ‘Great! Now let’s go and knock ’em dead.’

      ‘Don’t you ever think of anything but men?’ Helen chuckled, already knowing the answer. ‘This is supposed to be a working function.’

      ‘So? I like to mix business with pleasure. C’mon! Let’s inspect the talent.’

      The Imperial Room took up one corner of the eighth floor. On two sides it had floor-length windows hung with luxurious drapes. A dozen round tables groaned under food and wine. The huge room was already packed. All the big names of Elroys were there, and she could see Jack Dacre, her immediate superior, a hard taskmaster but with a kind heart. He signalled and edged towards her through the crowd.

      ‘Glad you got here,’ he rumbled above the din.

      ‘My plane was delayed. I’m sorry I’m a bit—’

      ‘No sweat. Tell me about your trip tomorrow. I’ve heard good things about your work while you were away. What do you know about this function?’

      ‘Nothing. It wasn’t even planned when I left.’

      ‘Right. All thrown together at twenty-four hour’s notice. It’s the Continental Restaurant. The Italian section grew so popular that it’s being hived off into a restaurant of its own. Most of the people here tonight are connected with food. Grab a drink.’

      He vanished to do some mingling. Helen obtained a glass of light wine, and edged her way in the direction of Braden Fairley, the Managing Director. He was talking to a handsome giant with light brown, curly hair. Something in the way the young man was standing told Helen that it was taking all his good manners to seem attentive, but the expression of courteous interest on his face never wavered.

      Then Fairley’s attention was claimed by another guest, making him turn slightly, giving Helen a better view of the stranger just as he glanced up. Their eyes met. His, she noticed with pleasure, were deep blue and irresistibly merry. She couldn’t help smiling back. He glanced at Fairley, blowing out his cheeks in a plea for sympathy, which she gave him willingly. Then the Managing Director resumed his monologue, and Helen moved along.

      From beside her came a soft, appreciate growl. ‘Mmm, he’s yummy, isn’t he?’ Dilys murmured.

      ‘Who’s yummy?’

      ‘Who’s yummy? she asks, when she can’t take her eyes off him!’

      ‘I’m looking at Mr Fairley,’ Helen said stiffly.

      ‘Sure you are. Between Fairley and a guy who looks like a Greek god, you’re going to look at Fairley. Who wants to waste time on a Greek god?’

      ‘Don’t be fanciful! Greek god! No way!’

      ‘All right. Life-guard, then. I like that better. More chance of getting him where you want him.’

      ‘I don’t want him any way,’ Helen said unconvincingly.

      ‘Aw, c’mon! He must be six foot two, and look at those shoulders. They should build doors wider to let them through. There’s no fat on him, you can see that, and with those long legs and flat stomach—well, if he isn’t a life guard he ought to be.’

      ‘You can’t tell about his legs, or his stomach.’

      ‘You can if you look properly,’ Dilys chuckled. ‘I glided by just now and he winked at me.’

      ‘He looks as if he’d wink at anything in a skirt.’

      ‘Hey, you noticed!’ Dilys said with ironic admiration. ‘And you should see the gleam in his eye! One look, and you just know he’s scheming to take you to bed.’

      ‘Oh, go away!’ Helen said, laughing. ‘Simply standing next to you could ruin my reputation.’

      ‘See ya!’ Dilys said, and slid away in search of more prey.

      It was incredible, Helen thought, how her eyes seemed to be drawn to the handsome young man of their own accord. She tried to ignore him but she kept glancing back in his direction without meaning to. And at last the inevitable happened and she found him looking back. Embarrassed, she tried to assume an air of lofty indifference, but somehow it turned into a smile of pleasure because his presence was like sunshine.

      He was dressed informally but expensively in slacks and a silk shirt, and Helen had to admit that everything Dilys said had been true, although ‘Greek god’ was a bit of an overstatement, she thought, giving the matter serious attention. But ‘life-guard’ definitely, and with a look of relish that said the world was there to be enjoyed, and what were they waiting for?

      Suddenly she found herself thinking of wine goblets filled to the brim, of golden plates piled high with the fruits of the earth, hot suns, lovers’ meetings, passion, satiation; all the good things, the complete, perfect, richly coloured, overflowing things that spoke of abundance and fulfilment.

      No, not spoke. Sang. As she was singing now.

      For pity’s sake! she thought in alarm. Pull yourself together.

      With an effort she got down to some work. There was glossy literature distributed everywhere, and she scanned it quickly, absorbing everything with her retentive memory until she felt confident of being able to do what was expected of her. Then she plunged into the crowd, at her sparkling best.

      After half an hour she took a short breather. Looking around for some refreshment she found a glass of champagne put into her hand by a lean young man with very blond looks and a kind face.

      ‘You look as if you need it, my darling,’ he said, a tad theatrically.

      ‘I do, I do,’ she said thankfully. ‘Bless you, Erik.’

      He was an under manager at Elroys. They had been to the theatre together a few times and once she had taken him to meet her parents. Their relationship was as much friendly as romantic, but she knew that in the hotel they were considered an item.

      ‘Back to work,’ she said, finishing the champagne. ‘There’s a mountain to climb yet.’

      She returned to the fray for more smiling and shaking hands, until after an hour she felt ready for another breather, and edged to the side of the room.

      ‘It gets to you, doesn’t it?’ said a voice beside her. She looked up to find the ‘life-guard’ grinning down at her. They laughed together, and it was as though she had been laughing with this charmer all her life.

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