‘They said I must persuade you...’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘They might even fire me...’
‘Even for you, Mr Wenkins, I can’t do it. I won’t be here.’
He gave me a spanked-spaniel look which I didn’t find endearing, and when I said no more he turned disgustedly away and walked off, stuffing the papers roughly into the side pocket of his jacket.
Van Huren turned his handsome head and gave me an assessing look.
‘Why did you refuse him?’ he asked. No blame in his voice; simply interest.
I took a deep breath: got the rueful smile out, and stifled the irritation which Clifford Wenkins had raised like an allergic rash.
‘I never do those things... beauty contests and lunches and opening things.’
‘Yes. But why not?’
‘I haven’t the stamina.’
‘You’re big enough,’ he said.
I smiled and shook my head. It would have sounded pretentious to tell him that so-called ‘personal appearances’ left me feeling invaded, battered, and devoured, and that complimentary introductory speeches gave me nothing in return. The only compliment I truly appreciated was the money plonked down at the box-office.
‘Where are you off to, next week, then?’ he asked.
‘Africa is huge,’ I said, and he laughed.
We wandered back to look at the next batch of hopefuls in the parade ring, and identified number eight as Nerissa’s filly, Lebona.
‘She looks perfectly all right,’ van Huren commented.
‘She will start all right,’ I agreed. ‘And run well for three-quarters of the way. Then she’ll tire suddenly within a few strides and drop right out, and when she comes back her sides will be heaving and she’ll look exhausted.’
He was startled. ‘You sound as if you know all about it.’
‘Only guessing. I saw Chink run like that at Newmarket on Wednesday.’
‘But you think they are all running to the same pattern?’
‘The form book confirms it.’
‘What will you tell Nerissa, then?’
I shrugged. ‘I don’t know... Probably to change her trainer.’
In due course we returned to the stands and watched Lebona run as expected. Van Huren seeming in no haste to jettison me for more stimulating company, and I well content to have him as a buffer state, the two of us, passing the cluster of tables and chairs under sun umbrellas, decided to sit down there and order refreshers.
For the first day since I had arrived, the sunshine had grown hot. No breeze stirred the fringes round the flowered umbrellas, and ladies in all directions were shedding their coats.
Van Huren, however, sighed when I commented on the good weather.
‘I like winter best,’ he said. ‘When it’s cold, dry, and sunny. The summers are wet, and far too hot, even up here on the highveld.’
‘One thinks of South Africa as always being hot.’
‘It is, of course. Once you get down near to sea level, it can be scorching even as early as this.’
The shadows of two men fell across the table, and we both looked up.
Two men I knew. Conrad: and Evan Pentelow.
I made introductions, and they pulled up chairs and joined us; Conrad his usual flamboyant self, scattering dear boys with abandon, and Evan, hair as unruly as ever, and eyes as hot.
Evan weighed straight in. ‘You won’t now refuse to turn up at the premiere of my Man in a Car, I hope.’
‘You sound very proprietary,’ I said mildly. ‘It isn’t altogether yours.’
‘My name will come first in the credits,’ he asserted aggressively.
‘Before mine?’
Posters of Evan’s films were apt to have Evan Pentelow in large letters at the top, followed by the name of the film, followed, in the last third of the space, by the actors’ names all squashed closely together. Piracy, it was, or little short.
Evan glared, and I guessed he had checked my contract for the film, and found, as I had done, that in the matter of billing my agent had made no mistakes.
‘Before the other director,’ he said grudgingly.
I supposed that was fair. Although he had directed less than a quarter, the shape of the finished film would be his idea.
Van Huren followed the sparring with amusement and attention.
‘So billing does matter as much as they say.’
‘It depends,’ I smiled, ‘on who is sticking knives into whose back.’
Evan had no sense of humour and was not amused. He began instead to talk about the film he was going to make next.
‘It’s an allegory... every human scene is balanced by a similar one involving elephants. They were supposed to be the good guys of the action, originally, but I’ve been learning a thing or two about elephants. Did you know they are more dangerous to man than any other animal in Africa? Did you know that nothing preys on them except ivory hunters, and as ivory hunting is banned in the Kruger Park, the elephants are in the middle of a population explosion? They are increasing by a thousand a year, which means that in ten years there will be no room for any other animals, and probably no trees in the park, as the elephants uproot them by the hundred.’
Evan, as usual on any subject which took his attention, was dogmatic and intense.
‘And do you know,’ he went on, ‘that elephants don’t like Volkswagens? Those small ones, I mean. Elephants seldom attack cars ordinarily, but they seem to make a bee-line for Volkswagens.’
Van Huren gave a disbelieving smile which naturally stirred Evan to further passion.
‘It’s true! I might even incorporate it in the film.’
‘Should be interesting,’ Conrad said with more than a touch of dryness. ‘Leaving a car around as bait at least makes a change from goats and tigers.’
Evan glanced at him sharply, but nodded. ‘We go down to the park on Wednesday.’
Van Huren turned to me with a look of regret.
‘What a pity you can’t go down there too, Link, next week. You want somewhere to go, and you’d have liked it there. The game reserves are about all that’s left of the old natural Africa, and the Kruger is big and open and still pretty wild. But I know the accommodation there is always booked up months ahead.’
I didn’t think Evan would have wanted me in the least, but to my surprise he slowly said, ‘Well, as it happens, we made reservations for Drix Goddart to be down there with us, but now he’s not coming for a week or two. We haven’t cancelled... there will be an empty bed, if you want to come.’
I looked at Conrad in amazement but found no clue in his raised eyebrows and sardonic mouth.
If it hadn’t been for Evan himself I would have leapt at it; but I supposed that even he was a great deal preferable to Clifford Wenkins’s programme. And if I didn’t go to the Kruger, which very much appealed to me, where else?
‘I’d like to,’ I said. ‘And thanks.’
Chapter Eight
Danilo fetched up at the sun-shade flanked by his two van Huren satellites.
Sally waited for no introductions to Conrad and Evan. She looked to see that she was not actually interrupting anyone in mid-sentence, and then spoke directly to her father.
‘We told Danilo you were taking Link down the gold mine on Monday, and he wants to know if he could go too.’
Danilo looked slightly embarrassed to have his request put so baldly, but after only a fraction’s hesitation van Huren said, ‘Why, of course, Danilo, if you would like to.’
‘I sure would,’ he said earnestly.
‘Gold mine?’ said Evan intently, pouncing on the words.
‘The family business,’ explained van Huren, and scattered introductions all round.
‘There could be great background material... a gold mine... something I could use one day.’ He looked expectantly at van Huren who was thus landed unfairly with the choice of being coerced or ungracious. He took it in his stride.