By Herbert Abramson
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But of course I can cook. Not only plain cooking but exotic dishes into the bargain. ' After she had met Samson and his wife, Tina, she went through to her room, which didn't look half so bad now that she knew she was going to change it soon. For a moment she stood staring out of the steel-framed window. It had been quite a day, she thought. She'd seen game - wart-hog, impala, rhinoceros, giraffe and, last but not least, she'd been reunited with her father in her new home. Hearing her father's suede shoes on the slate-tiled floor, she turned round.
She put the question to him on a note of genuine interest. The smile she gave him was slow and puzzled. ' he asked. ' Somehow, Julia went on smiling. ' 'It's not all that important,' he told her, presenting a clean-shaven cheek. ' 'Thank you,' she replied, both amused and hurt at the same time. ' 'No, we don't, do we? ' She was frankly inspecting his face and then she turned away. They drove in a sort of cold-war silence until Grant Tyler surprised her by saying, 'What are you thinking about?
I am Julia Munro. ' She felt a sudden chill of apprehension. ' she asked, after a slight flummoxed pause. 'Is - it something to do with my father? ' 'There's nothing wrong with your father, Miss Munro. I happened to be making a trip to Pietermaritzburg and your father asked me to call here on my way back to Umkambo. ' Julia's green eyes flew to the Land Rover. ' The Game Ranger's blue eyes travelled disparagingly over her fashionable tangerine slack suit, dressed up with its chunky wooden beads, and she could feel his summing up of her like a tangible force.
A Hero Shrine for Phrontis at Sounion? by Herbert Abramson