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Jane waved goodbye to the coalminers and promised that she would send them some money to cover her share of the fuel, but Weynand told her he would send the money back to her if she did. Their dusty bakkie and boat stained with fish blood and guts over the stern looked as out of place in the corporate ghetto of Melrose Arch as she did right now.
Her feet were black and her finger- and toenails encrusted with dirt. Her hair felt like straw and Alex’s former girlfriend’s once crisply ironed sundress was stained with perspiration patches. She’d telephoned ahead from Dirk’s phone and caught George between meetings. She’d given an approximate arrival time.
A towering bald-headed man in a long coat held open a heavy glass and steel swinging door for her as she entered the airconditioned co
