On the short walk to his car, Cliff took Mishka’s hand in his again.

“My mother’s in town,” he said, giving her hand a light squeeze.

“I know,” Mishka responded softly.

“You do? Did I already tell you?” he asked as they approached the car.

“No, you didn’t. She called my office.”

Cliff stopped short of the car and turned to Mishka.

“You spoke to her?” he looked at her surprised.

“I didn’t actually speak to her. She left a message with Kimmy. Let’s get in and I’ll tell you about it,” she said, tugging on his hand.

“Please, allow me,” he said, releasing her hand and stepping forward to open the car door.

“Thank you, Cliff.”

He made sure she was comfortably seated before closing the door.

As he walked around to the driver’s side, he saw her leaning across to unlock the door.

Considerate, he thought. I like that.

He slid behind the steering wheel and closed the door.

After he started the engine, the car was filled with a faint beeping echo.

“What’s that sound,” she enquired.

“That’s one of the safety features of the car. Please buckle up else it won’t stop,” he answered while pulling the belt across his chest and snapping the buckle in place.

“Very nice. My car only flashes a sign on the dashboard when a car door isn’t properly closed,” she commented while mimicking his actions with the safety belt.

Cliff chuckled. “This car was a gift for being voted Sportsman of the Year last year. My usual ride is a four-by-four all-terrain monster,” he explained.

“Double cab?” Mishka asked with a hint of excitement in her voice.

“Yes,” Cliff confirmed with a raised eyebrow.

“I would not have minded being in it now. I’d probably have asked you to drive. It’s a sexy feeling being in control of such a beast,” she said, looking at him.

“I’ll remember that. I’ll feel I’m being spoiled if I could be a passenger every once in a while.”

An easy silence followed, leaving them to their thoughts.

I like that she’s not asking me what I’m thinking. She’s confident and comfortable with herself. I think I might be falling in love with her, he thought.

Mishka looked ahead, enjoying the silence.

He’s so easy to be with, she thought. I can see myself with him. Who knows – perhaps there are bells ringing in my not too distant future. I wonder if he likes children.

The silence was interrupted when the car turned and the sound of loose pebbles could be heard beneath the wheels.

“We’re here,” Cliff said, pointing ahead to the lights in the distance.

Mishka noticed that they were driving up a long tree-lined driveway.

Cliff brought the car to a stop in front of large oak doors.

“Don’t move,” he said and got out of the car.

He was opening her door, holding out his hand to assist her before the valet attendant reached the car.

“Good evening, Sir… Madame. May I direct you to your venue?”

“Good evening. The Powell Foundation please,” Cliff asked, still holding onto Mishka’s hand while handing over the car key.

“Up the stairs to your right, Sir. The Estate Room.”

“Thank you. Please take good care of her,” he said pointing to the car. “She’s transporting precious cargo tonight.”

Mishka smiled to herself. “I’ve been meaning to tell you. You look very handsome tonight, Cliff.”

“Thank you. I’d look better once you start looking after me,” he said with a suggestive smile. “Let’s go do some good, M’lady.”

As they approached the doors, an attendant opened it. “Welcome to the Haute Monde.”

Cliff stopped though.

“You didn’t tell me about my mother’s call,” he said, turning towards Mishka.

Raising her eyes to meet his

“It was a summons to be here tonight because you’d mentioned me,” she softly said.

“Oh mother,” he said laughing. “She’s actually a sweetheart. Don’t be scared.”

“I’m not,” she replied confidently.

The Estate Room was an enormous space, with high ceilings, lit by crystal chandeliers. While Cliff confirmed their table, Mishka looked around.

Round tables were comfortably spaced, covered with avocado green tablecloths with mint overlays. Plain white crockery, white and green cloth serviettes, wine and water glasses and sparkling silver cutlery finished the setup. There was a podium set in the centre against the back wall from which an orchestra was providing subtle background music.

“Let’s sit down then I’ll get us something to drink,” Cliff said close to her ear, almost kissing it.

Cliff took hold of her hand again, but before they moved they heard his name from behind them. Cliff looked over his shoulder before releasing her hand and turning around.

“Mother! Jolly good to see you,” he said and planted a kiss on her cheek.

Mishka turned and her eyes rested on a statuesque lady.

Emily Powell laughed softly.

“You’re incorrigible, Cliff. You knew I’d be here; I told you so.”

Cliff chuckled while taking Mishka’s hand and drawing her closer to him.

“Mother, this is Mishka Harris. Mishka, this is my mother, Emily Powell.”

“Good evening, Mrs Powell,” Mishka greeted, extending her hand.

Emily Powell gave her hand a light shake, “Good evening, Miss Harris.”

“Please, Mrs Powell, call me Mishka.”

She was met with a stern look.

“There will no familiarity until I’ve gotten to know you better, Miss Harris.”

She felt Cliff gently squeezing her hand.

“Now, now, mother. Don’t scare her. She’s my guest and the woman who will be improving my life.”

Mishka recovered from her surprise at being admonished and focused instead on what Emily Powell was wearing.

A long-sleeved chiffon gown with a simple string of pearls. Very classy.

“You were right, Cliff. She’s beautiful,” she heard his mother say.

“You know I never lie, mother,” he said while placing her hand on his forearm and taking hold of Mishka’s hand.

“Let me escort you to our table ladies.”

At their table, Cliff gently removed his mother’s hand from his arm. Mishka was about to pull out a chair when she felt him behind her.

“Please, let me,” he offered, pulling out her chair.

“Thank you.”

She sat down as he pushed her chair in and was surprised when she saw his mother still standing; one seat away.

I hope she doesn’t resent me for Cliff attending to me first, Mishka thought.

He turned to his mother and pulled out her chair. After making sure she was comfortably seated, he returned to Mishka.

“What will you have to drink?”

“A lime cordial, if they have. Else an Avian with a splash of lemon juice, please.”

He returned to his mother and repeated the question.

“A Shirley Temple, please, son.”

“Excuse me, ladies. I’ll be right back with your drinks.”

“A non-alcoholic beverage, Miss Harris. I hope you’re not one of those females who starve themselves. We Powells have hearty appetites,” Emily Powell scolded her.

“No, Mrs Powell, I love to eat. I’ve just never acquired a taste for alcohol.”

Emily Powell nodded in approval.

This girl seems to have her head screwed on properly. Cliff needs to settle down and give me some grandchildren before I’m too old to enjoy romping around with them, Mrs Powell thought

She’d been horrified when he came home from university one day and announced that he was going to be a rugby player. For the Springboks, no less.

“Cliff, have you given this matter serious consideration?” his mother had asked.

“Yes, mother. I’m going to spend a few years doing what I love. I’ll always have my degree to fall back on and Coach Newman says I have what it takes. There’ll be scouts at the next match. They’re looking for fresh blood for the national team. I want this mother; for myself.”

She didn’t broach the subject again and when he was indeed selected to join the team, she was extremely proud of him, although she worried that his new lifestyle would not allow him to meet a suitable girl to settle down with. She knew what he was like.

He’s going to be so focused on his rugby career, everything else, besides his family, won’t be important, she thought.

Cliff returned, setting their drinks down in front of them on the table before taking the seat between them.

“Thank you, Cliff.”

After many speeches, joking, a four-course meal and generous donations from the foundations patrons, the Master of Ceremonies made a final announcement.

“Ladies and gentleman. Please put your hands together and help me welcome the man who made all this possible. His generosity knows no boundaries – Cliff Powell. He’s a man of few words, but he can at least thank us for helping him eat all the delicious food here tonight.”

There was loud laughter and thunderous applause as Cliff got up and climbed the steps to the podium.

“Thank you, Mike. And thank you to everyone for sharing this evening with us. To the support staff, all volunteers from the Powell Foundation Trust, thank you for giving so unselfishly of your time. To our patrons, thank you for your generous contributions of time and resources to help keep the Powell Foundation going strong as we help the youth achieve their dreams through our tutoring program, bursary schemes and a variety of internships,” he said, his speech seemingly finished.

“And thank you for emptying your plates,” he concluded as lights started flashing, illuminating the dance floor.

When he returned to the table he leaned down and took Mishka’s hand.

“How about it, Miss Harris. Do you fancy causing a scandal with some dirty dancing?”

Mishka laughed and rose from her chair.

“Excuse us, mother.”

As he led her to the dance floor she leaned into him. “I didn’t know all this about you, Cliff. The foundation and support – it’s a wonderful initiative. Let me know if I can help in any way.”

“There’s still so much I want to share with you, Mishka,” he said, his deep voice turned husky with emotion and Mishka knew the unspoken meaning he was referring to.

They danced through several songs and during a slow dance he pulled her tightly against him and stroked her back as they swayed to the music. When she finally begged for a break because she needed to freshen up and quench her thirst, he took her hand and escorted her to the ladies room.

A few steps from the door he released her hand and asked, “Another lime cordial for you.”

“Yes, please. I need to replenish my energy after all that dancing. Meet you at the bar?”

Cliff smiled and nodded in agreement; walking away after she’d stepped inside.

Mishka almost bumped into Emily Powell, who was on her way out.

“Are you enjoying yourself, Miss Harris?” she enquired.

“Yes, Mrs Powell. I’m so glad I came. I didn’t know about the Powell Foundation before tonight,” she replied.

“He’s a good man, my son. When he believes in something, he commits himself fully. Don’t break his heart, Miss Harris.”

Before Mishka could respond, Emily Powell had opened the door and walked out.

At the bar, she found Cliff, drinks in hand, talking to his mother.

“I’ll be leaving now,” she said, looking at them. “I have an early flight back home tomorrow morning. Miss Harris, I’d love you to join Cliff when he comes to visit me. If you have no prior engagements,” she said, taking Mishka’s hand and giving it a firm squeeze.

Mishka was momentarily stunned but managed to respond. “I’d be delighted, Mrs Powell. Thank you for the invitation.”

“Let me be on my way then. My driver must be waiting impatiently. No need to escort me to the car, Cliff. You take care of Miss Harris.”

She kissed Cliff on the cheek and walked away.

“She’s something else, Cliff. A bit strict, but not unkind,” Mishka commented as they walked back to their table. “I was a bit worried early in the evening when you didn’t attend to her first.”

“She’d skin me alive if I left you alone or gave her preference over you, unless it was an emergency. She’d consider it bad manners as I had invited you,” Cliff explained.

Mishka smiled.

She’s a grand dame. I can learn so much from her. Tonight was not as stressful as I thought it might be. Aunt Vi was right – I’m fine. And I think I’m in love, she thought.