The Mak Collection Read Free Page B

Charles Swinton, her booker, confirming the details for the following day’s photo shoot at La Perouse. The job was scheduled for an early start and it would be a long day. In spite of the recent rain they didn’t require an early morning weather check; they were confident it would clear up.
    “Uh, Charles…has there been any word from Catherine?”
    “No. I suspect she’s run off early for the weekend. By the way, you’re up for the Becky Ross fashion launch too. We should have it confirmed tomorrow.”
    “Becky Ross?”
    “The soapie star. She’s big at the moment. She’s promoting her own line of clothes. Should be excellent exposure for you.”
    “Great. Let me know.” Makedde thanked him for the key to the flat and said goodbye. She lay in bed, waiting for the phone to ring and hoping Charles was right. Catherine could get carried away, in love with love itself, and convinced that her latest man was none other than Prince Charming in a Porsche. It had happened before.
    It was only 5.30 p.m., but it was past midnight in Canada. She struggled to stay awake but by 10 p.m. her energy quietly packed up and abandoned her, and her eyelids locked shut. She drifted off with a dog-eared copy of Mindhunter in her hand.

CHAPTER 2
    The following morning was mercilessly cold, with a biting southerly that whipped along the coastline, causing the caravan to shudder and groan like a feverish old man. Makedde stood inside its open door, savouring her last moments of warmth.
    It was odd that Catherine had not called or left any messages. Even if she was taking advantage of a couple of extra days off to enjoy a romantic weekend away, she could have at least phoned. Who was this guy, anyway? Mak hoped it wasn’t the same unnamed man Cat had been seeing for nearly a year, but in all likelihood it was. Cat had dropped a few hints—he was very rich, plenty powerful and he lived in Australia. No doubt he was what made her choose the Southern Hemisphere to continue her career. Makedde strongly suspected he was married, but when she pressed the issue Cat just grinned guiltily. Apparently this man made her swear, under “penalty of death” as she put it, to complete secrecy over his name and the details of their affair.
    Makedde never could get the guy’s real name out of her friend, so she came up with her own.Whenever Cat had showed up with a new piece of flashy gold jewellery, Makedde had simply asked, “So how’s Dick ?” She might have been brash enough to ask, “So, how’s your Dick?”, except that any man wanting to keep a stunner like Catherine a secret was obviously not “hers” in any sense.
    Makedde shivered, watching the photographer and his entourage, rugged up in parkas and long pants, make their way down to the water’s edge. Her thoughts drifted away as the assistant waved. It was her turn to join them.
    The moment she stepped from the warm caravan her skin broke out in indignant goose flesh. Harsh wind whipped through the red-chequered picnic blanket she had wrapped around her. She could see the crew setting up on the sand below, and from their strained postures it was obvious there would be no shelter.
    “I’m too old for this,” Makedde mumbled to no one in particular. I’m twenty-five. Shouldn’t I be finishing my psychology degree? Shouldn’t I be having babies like my sister? She dismissed her thoughts as quickly as they came, pushing down the pain that had risen quickly within her. Adjusting the hot-water bottle strategically shoved down the back of her suit, Mak hurried down to the shoot.
    Minutes later she was posing elegantly, with the wintry ocean lapping at her feet and her blonde hair flying back from her face. For a moment her mindfocused completely on her body—aware of how her size-ten feet were positioned to minimise their length; the turn of her hips; the angle of her shoulders and the graceful placement of her hands—all in relation to the camera lens. Once she was satisfied that