“No, of course not,” said Linda, laughing. “And… it’s a bit of an in-joke, the dares. Anyway, he doesn’t approve of these trips. Says they’re thinly disguised bribes.”

“Quite right. Fortunately my wife doesn’t have such principles.”

And all might have been well, had he not brought his wife-a pretty girl with freckles and a Scottish accent, called Fiona-to meet Alex and Linda at predinner drinks and told Alex what Linda had said about the bribery, and how much he agreed with him.

“Frightful racket. Still, who are we to complain?” Martin asked.

“Well, you certainly don’t,” said Fiona. “I have to work very hard for it. Anyway, it’s not exactly true.”

“Of course it’s not,” said Alex. He glared at Linda.

“I call the spousal programme pretty hard work,” said Martin. “Linda and I are ducking out tomorrow, aren’t we?”

“Yes. Doing a heavy day at the spa,” said Linda, and then rather hurriedly, “And how was today’s conference session?”

“Very good,” said Fiona, “some really interesting ideas, didn’t you think, Alex?”

“Yes, not bad.”

“Well, if it isn’t the lap dancer. Not working tonight?”

It was the neurosurgeon. Linda reached up to kiss him.

“Hi. Not yet. I don’t usually start until after dinner.”

“I’ll look forward to it. Come and rescue my wife, will you? I’ve told her about you; she’s longing to meet you, and she’s stuck with some gnome from R and D. Can you spare her, Alex, old chap?”

“Yes, of course,” said Alex. He smiled at the neurosurgeon. Linda knew that smile. It came with great difficulty. She winked at him, said she’d soon be back, and followed the neurosurgeon across the room.

Mrs. NS was rather fun: a doctor herself, a GP from Ireland. She was extremely grateful for the rescue-“I really thought I’d pass out with boredom in a minute”-and asked Linda who her husband was.

“Ah, yes,” she said, squinting across the room, “very sexy, I thought. Touch of the Heathcliffs.”

“That’s exactly what I thought the first time I saw him,” said Linda. “And the resemblance doesn’t end there. Very dark and brooding, he can be. Not that full of sunshine right this minute, actually. I think he’s cross because I’m ducking out of the programme tomorrow.”

“I might join you in that. Hate the idea of it. What are you doing instead?”

“Beautifying myself in the spa.”

“Sounds good. Well, see you there, maybe. We’ve got to go in to dinner.”

Alex scowled at Linda as she sat down beside him.

“Linda, how dare you go round telling people I regard these things as bribery. It’s outrageous.”

“But you do. You said so.”

“That was a private remark. Passing it on here is rather like telling your hostess you don’t like her cooking. I can’t believe you can be so socially inept. Not to mention rude.”

“Sorry,” she said, slightly alarmed at his anger. “I really am. You know, I’m truly enjoying it all; it’s a bit like being back at school.”

“Well, try not to behave as if you actually were.”

“Oh, do stop scowling at me, Alex; I’ve said I’m sorry. And you should be glad I’m enjoying myself.”

“I’m afraid not. Or rather, not the way you’ve chosen.”

“Oh, God,” she said, putting down her fork, “you really are a miserable bastard, aren’t you? First sign of a bit of a laugh, and you’re down on everyone like a load of shit. I’m glad I don’t work at that hospital of yours.”

“Linda, you know perfectly well what I mean. It’s very discourteous, setting yourself up in some rebel group like this. You wanted to come and-”

“Oh, fuck off!” she said, and turned her attention to the man the other side of her.

“Shall we go to the bar?” she said, finally turning back to Alex.

“I’d rather not. I’m tired. I’m going upstairs. You can join me if you like.”

“I’ve had more promising invitations,” she said. “I’ll see you later.”

She had one drink with Martin and his wife, and then said good night to everyone and went up to their room. Alex was in bed, reading.

“Good book?”

“Very.”

She pulled off her clothes, slid into bed beside him.

“Let me distract you from it.”

He turned away slightly; she snatched the book from him.

“Oh, Alex. You’re so sexy when you’re cross.”

Against all the odds he laughed. “I must be sexy a lot of the time, in that case.”

“You are. And I’m not the only one who thinks so. Mrs. Neurosurgeon was saying how sexy you were.”

“Oh, Linda,” he said, switching the light off, taking her in his arms. “I’m sorry. You’re a very generous woman.”

“I am?”

“Yes. Sam would never have told me some other woman thought I was attractive. Are we friends again?”

“I never wasn’t,” she said.

She managed to behave after that more as Alex would have wished: went on the obligatory shopping trip-not exactly a hardship in the delicious bounty of Cape Town stores-and went on the other major outing, down the winding coast road to Chapman’s Peak, an incredibly beautiful promontory carved out of the cliffs, and then on to Cape Point.

They were heading north after that, to do a few days’ safari: travelling on the Blue Train for the first leg to Pretoria, where they were picking up a small private plane to Kruger National Park.

The Blue Train was her idea, and her contribution to the trip.

“If you think I’m going on an ordinary old plane for two hours when we can do the same thing in total luxury in twenty-four, then you’ve brought the wrong woman.”

The Blue Train was sheer indulgence, an excessive, elaborate treat that made her feel, she said, like Lauren Bacall in Murder on the Orient Express. She and Alex had their own private suite: a drawing room that converted into a bedroom, complete with immense double bed, and an absurdly elaborate bathroom in which you could take a deep, hot bath and enjoy the landscape at the same time, a peculiarly heady, sexy pleasure. They also had their own butler; all the suites did. Alex didn’t approve, was hating most of it: Linda didn’t care.

They had the first squabble before lunch, as she tidied up the suite for the third time.

“Linda, do, for God’s sake, stop that; I can’t stand it.”

“Well, I can’t stand the mess!”

“Just sit down and watch the scenery!”

She sat there, watching the incredible mountain ranges go past, sipping a glass of very nice Sancerre, and felt better tempered; by the time lunch was served she was feeling very sleek and told Alex so.

“I know what that means,” he said, grinning at her.

“You do?”

“Yes. Some considerable activity a little later.”

“You’re being very presumptuous.”

“Sorry. Am I wrong?”

“No, Alex,” she said, closing her eyes briefly and smiling at the intense sensation that quite literally swept through her, leaving her almost dizzy, “no, you’re not wrong.”

“Thank Christ for that. I was beginning to think I’d never say the right thing again.”

“I’m not terribly interested in what you say,” she said, reaching under the table, gently massaging his thigh, “not just now. More what you do.”

“Oh, OK. Linda, do stop that. I can’t enjoy my food while I’m having an erection.”

“Try,” she said. “It’s my challenge for the afternoon.”

Much, much later she sat in the bath with yet another glass of champagne; he sat on the edge and smiled down at her.

“That was very lovely.”

“Yes, it was. Oh, look, Alex, there’s some wildebeest. See, there? God, how amazing to sit in a bath drinking champagne and watching wildebeest. I told you it would be wonderful.”

“You were right,” he said, reaching out, tracing the outline of one of her nipples with his thumb. “It is very wonderful. All of it.”

“Please, please don’t do that,” she said, reaching down for his hand, kissing it, then replacing it. “You know I can’t bear it.”