by Sally Andrew
Please will you help me. I don’t know what to do. It’s like this. There’s this girl. Even when I was young I knew she was the one for me.
I sighed. There was no escaping this love sickness. Hattie added milk and sugar to my tea and handed it to me.
‘Thank you, skat,’ I said.
She offered me beskuit, but I shook my head.
‘Good heavens,’ said Hattie. ‘What’s wrong, Maria?’
‘I think it’s my tummy,’ I said.
‘I’ve never seen you like this.’
‘It kind of hurts,’ I said.
‘It does sound like Jessie’s problem.’
‘I’ll be okay,’ I said.
Hattie took her tea to her desk and I went back to my letter.
We’ve always been just friends. Then she went away and came back and she was all clever but she was still my same girl and this time it seemed like she was interested in me, in that way, you know. But she said she didn’t want a boyfriend and she wanted to be independent and all that. But then one night it just happened. She was in my arms, and – you know.
I had a sip of my tea. It wasn’t bad. Harriet was much better at making tea than coffee.
I don’t have the right words. I can just say it was awesome. I thought it was special for us both, I really did. I remembered her independence story and I didn’t want to pressure her so I thought I’d let her phone me but she didn’t. Then the next night I was out with the guys watching rugby and she came in with a friend and said hello but was not very friendly, so I thought okay, maybe she doesn’t want it to go public about us. I really wanted things to work out between us, so I was happy to do whatever she wanted. She didn’t invite me over to sit with them. They were getting stacks of drinks from other guys. I just watched the rugby.
The phone rang and Hattie got it.
‘Harriet Christie,’ she said. ‘Hello, Mr Marius.’
Then she was quiet for a long time as if he was talking and talking. She would say ‘But— ’ or ‘Mr Marius— ’, like she was trying to speak but he wouldn’t let her. I got on with my letter.
She didn’t really say goodbye when she left. But I still hoped she would be my girlfriend and we would work something out. The next day I phoned her a few times, but she didn’t answer my calls. Then on the Monday I went to see her at work. She looked at me like she hated me and walked out.
I don’t know what to do. I suppose I should give up on her because it obviously didn’t mean anything to her and she doesn’t want to be seen with me. But I somehow can’t give up.
Can you help?
He did not sign it. But I could guess who it was from.
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
‘Mr Marius,’ said Hattie into the phone, ‘If you will just let me get a word in— ’. Her face was pale, with spots of pink high on her cheeks. ‘This is an independent newspaper. Sponsorship does not mean you own us— ’
Mr Marius blasted so loud that even I could hear him. Not the words, just the sound – like an angry monkey. Hattie held the phone away from her ear.
‘We have journalistic standards— ’ she said, when there was a pause in his noise.
Then I heard the monkey again, this time the words he was shouting too: ‘You’ll be sorry!’
Hattie looked at the receiver.
‘Fiddlesticks,’ she said. ‘He slammed the phone down.’
I clicked my tongue.
‘So rude,’ she said, tapping the pencil on her desk, and her foot on the floor.
She picked up her tea and had a sip. I could see from her face that it was cold, so I put the kettle on.
‘It’s Jessie’s articles,’ she said. ‘About fracking and on Grace. Too political, he says. He wants them removed from our website and not printed in the paper.’
‘I don’t like that man,’ I said.
‘He’s the chair of the Ladismith Chamber of Commerce,’ said Hattie, and sighed. ‘We can’t lose their support.’
Hattie was like a tall strong tree. Now she was bent over, like a storm wind was blowing her. But she was not broken.
I gave us each a fresh cup of tea, and put extra sugar in hers to get the colour right on her face.
‘Do have a look at the website,’ she said. ‘Tell me what you think of Jessie’s articles. I’m going to phone around a bit, talk to some of our other sponsors.’
I sat down at Jessie’s computer, clicked on the picture of the Gazette, and the website opened up. Websites are confusing for me, like a shopping mall with bright lights instead of a nice corner shop. But I found my way to Jessie’s articles.
Jessie writes much more smartly than she talks, but her articles are not difficult to read. They are always alive and full of stories and quotes. The one about Grace was called ‘At the End of the Day’. She was telling Grace’s story, but she was also talking about domestic workers all over. How hard they work, with so few rights. She made you care about this one woman, Grace, and her loss and her dreams. She didn’t say it straight but it was obvious that Jessie thought that if Grace’s employer did not help her out, he must be a really mean man. I suppose Mr Marius might read this as an insult to himself.
‘Oh, bollocks,’ said Hattie, putting down the phone. ‘The manager of the Spar, Cornelius van Wyk, agrees with Mr Marius. He complains that our journalists are doing investigations instead of just reporting. He says the Chamber could withdraw sponsorship.’
‘Oh, Hats,’ I said.
‘I’m going to phone Mrs van der Spuy, she’s the secretary,’ said Hattie.
Mrs van der Spuy owned Mandy’s Furniture Shop on the corner.
‘Ask her if she’s got some honey,’ I said.
She had her own hives.
I started reading the article about fracking. It was called ‘No Fracking Way’ – the same as John’s car sticker. It wasn’t as personal as the article about Grace, but it did have some nice quotes. Some guy who swam with polar bears had a lot to say. He described how damaging fracking had been in other parts of the world. And told of how bad it could be for the Karoo and the whole of South Africa. The fracking chemicals could poison our water supply and our giant pools of underground water. And the government was supporting the mining companies, like Shaft, because they had so much money.
‘Oh dear,’ I said.
Jessie also spoke about climate change and renewable energy – like the sun, or the wind – that could do a better job than gas, oil and coal. But it’s harder to make profits from renewable energy, because nobody owns the ‘rights’ to the sun and wind, like they own rights to gas and coal. It sounded like it was all about money, not about what was good for the Karoo.
I didn’t understand everything she was saying, but I understood enough to get me worried about poisoned water, and what this would mean for the people and plants of the Klein Karoo. And the bokmakieries and the jackals and the frogs. It also made me think that John was maybe not as crazy as he seemed. Fracking was worth getting cross about. I wasn’t sure why Marius was so upset by the article. If he cared about the Karoo, he should want people here to know the dangers of fracking.
‘She’s got honey,’ said Hattie, standing up and helping herself to a beskuit. ‘Mrs van der Spuy. And she still supports us, thank heavens. She says I should come to the next Chamber of Commerce meeting. Marius or Van Wyk may withdraw their own adverts, but the Chamber of Commerce funding can’t be cut off without a majority vote from all the businesses.’
‘They can’t all be as crazy as Marius,’ I said. ‘Do you think Shaft might be buying his support?’
‘Who knows? That chap would take money from the devil. If he’s not the devil himself.’
‘These are good articles, Hattie.’
I turned off Jessie’s computer.
‘It’s going to print, as is,’ she said.
Hattie was standing up straight again, like the wind had passed. But I felt the storm wasn’t over.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
I went back to
my desk and picked up that hand-delivered letter.
‘I think it’s time for Jessie to come back to work,’ I said.
‘I do wonder what’s going on with her,’ Hattie said.
‘She’s got a broken heart,’ I said. ‘But it can be fixed.’
I phoned the police station and asked for Reghardt but he wasn’t there and they wouldn’t give me his cell number.
‘Reghardt?’ said Hattie, raising her eyebrow. ‘I have his cell number. Is he the heart-breaker?’
‘He’s also got a broken heart,’ I said.
There was a knock on the door.
‘Cooo-eee,’ said Candice, stepping in.
She had leather sandals on so we had not heard her usual clip-clopping. She wore a cream dress that fitted her just right. She smelled of lemon blossoms and her lipstick and her toenails were a pearly-pink. She probably looked good in her sleep.
‘Maria?’ Candice said.
‘Sorry, I was just thinking,’ I said. ‘What did you say?’
‘The funeral’s all set for tomorrow. How’s it going with y’all? Can I help out any?’
‘That night you went out with Jessie and got drunk,’ I said. ‘Where did you sleep?’
Harriet frowned at me.
‘Would you like some tea, Candice?’ she asked.
‘Sure, thanks,’ Candy said. ‘I was too drunk to drive. That nice young fella, the policeman, he took me home. To the Sunshine B&B, where I’m staying.’
‘Reghardt?’
She nodded.
‘It’s important, Candy, that you tell me the truth,’ I said. ‘It will really help our investigation.’
‘Truly, that’s what happened. I wasn’t so pickled that I can’t remember. We made a bit of a racket getting in and the owner got up.’
‘So Reghardt went home with you?’
Candice laughed.
‘Oh, no! He just helped me to my room. I wasn’t walking so well. The owner, Mr Wessels, stood frowning at us and let Reghardt out himself.’
‘So nothing happened between you and Reghardt?’
‘Hell, no,’ she said. ‘He’s a sweet little guy, but not my type. And I’m not his. He’s got a girlfriend.’
‘He told you that?’
‘Yeah, he seemed real proud of her. Didn’t tell me her name.’
‘It’s Jessie,’ I said.
‘Oh, hell damn,’ said Candice, ‘does she think . . . ?’
I nodded. Candice sat down and Hattie handed her a cup of tea.
‘The poor thing,’ Candy said.
‘Could you give me that number, Hats?’ I said.
Reghardt answered on the first ring.
‘Jessie?’ he said.
‘It’s Tannie Maria,’ I said. ‘I got a letter from a young man. I’d like to help him. I was thinking maybe you could give me some advice about what to say . . . ’
Reghardt was quiet.
‘His girlfriend is ignoring him because she thinks he spent the night with another woman,’ I said.
‘But why would she think that?’
‘Because she heard about him leaving a bar with his arm around another woman.’
‘What?’
‘One who was beautiful and drunk.’
‘Oh, that. She was too drunk to drive.’
‘Ja.’
‘So I, I mean he, took her home.’
‘Ja, and . . . ?’
‘And? And nothing. Oh, no – she thinks— Ag, nee.’
‘She’s really upset. The man is someone special to her.’
‘He is?’
‘I don’t think he should give up on her.’
‘You don’t?’
‘What should I tell him to do?’
‘Maybe he can ask her friends to tell her the truth. Do you think they’d do that, Tannie?’
‘If she’s feeling really hurt, she might be ignoring her friends too. I think he must write her a letter telling her what happened and how he feels about her. And then he must go round to her himself. If she won’t see him, he can leave the letter.’
‘Ja, that’s good advice, Tannie. You should tell him that.’
‘It won’t do any harm to give her some koeksisters. She really likes koeksisters.’
Just as I put the phone down it rang again and I picked up. It was Sister Mostert from the hospital.
‘They’ve gone,’ she told me. ‘Anna and Dirk. Just now they were eating breakfast and, next thing, they’ve disappeared.’
‘What about the police guards?’
‘You won’t believe this, but they made friends with each other. Dirk and Anna. Stopped fighting. So the police went.’
‘And Dirk and Anna weren’t discharged?’
‘No. And another thing. An ambulance, it’s been stolen.’
‘You think they took it?’
‘Who would drive? Her leg is in a plaster cast. His arm is in a sling . . . I can’t understand it. I phoned the police. But I also thought I should tell you.’
‘What is it?’ asked Candice as I hung up.
‘It’s Dirk and Anna. Disappeared. And so has an ambulance.’
‘In their condition . . . ’ said Hattie.
‘They’ve got one good pair of arms and legs between them,’ I said. ‘If they worked together, they’d be a whole person. But could they steal an ambulance?’
Hattie laughed.
‘Honestly. Those two, working together?’ she said.
‘Sister Mostert says they made up. They’re friends now.’
‘Where would they go?’ said Candice.
‘Looking for revenge,’ I said. ‘And I think it’s my fault. They listened to me for a change . . . Candice, can we take your car? It’s faster. Let’s go to John’s farm.’
‘You think they blame him for Martine’s murder?’ said Hattie.
I nodded and asked Candy: ‘Have you got a cell phone?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Hattie, we’ll call you when we get there, but phone the police in the meanwhile. Tell Kannemeyer the story and ask him to send a van out to John’s.’
The top was up, so we didn’t have that wild wind, but the car was going fast. Very fast. But it was okay – Candy was a good driver. As we shot out of town, I looked at the yellow and purple flowers that were coming up all over the veld. Candy saw them too.
‘Beautiful,’ she said.
‘It’s the rain,’ I said. ‘They come out after the rain.’
‘Beautiful,’ she said again.
‘Are you just born with beauty?’ I asked, looking at her smooth peach skin and golden hair. ‘Or can it grow on you like flowers? How do you do it?’
She smiled.
‘Beauty is my career.’
‘I couldn’t wear your kind of clothes,’ I said.
‘No. You’d have to find the right clothes for you. That show off your best bits.’
‘Hah. I’ve got no best bits.’
‘Nonsense. Your face, your hips and breasts are in a perfect ratio. Excellent curves. And your hands and ankles are real cute. I know just the style for you. If you like I’ll get my shop to send up something. What are you, a thirty-eight? And shoes. Four?’
I nodded and looked down at my brown dress and khaki veldskoene. They were very practical, but even I could tell they weren’t the best style for me. My dress size used to be thirty-four, before I married, then a thirty-six, and now it’s thirty-eight.
‘I can’t wear those fancy New York clothes,’ I said.
‘It’s on the house.’
‘It won’t help . . . ’
‘Oh, rubbish. You’re lovely. And you’ve got good skin, even though it’s so hot and dry here. What do you use?’
‘Olive oil.’
‘And as we get older we’ve got to watch the exercise and diet a bit more.’
‘Is that your secret?’
‘Secret? I’ve got no secrets.’
We were passing a grove of bright green spekboom trees.
‘
I guess there is one secret I’ve learned,’ she said. ‘Clothes, skin, makeup, can all help. But if a woman thinks she looks good, she glows with her own special beauty.’
‘Ja, maybe, but even if she’s thinking and glowing and all, will a man see her beauty?’
‘Men aren’t as dumb as they seem, Maria.’
‘Look,’ I said, ‘a bokkie.’
‘What?’
‘A little buck, there, in the shadow of the spekboom. By those big rocks. A steenbokkie.’
But she couldn’t see it. It’s easy to see bright flowers, but you need the right kind of eyes to see a brown animal in the shade.
Maybe I would find a man with the right kind of eyes.
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
‘There’s the sign,’ I said. ‘Wild Things Organic Farm.’
Candice swerved onto the dust road. A mongoose dived into the bushes. We headed up towards the farmhouse that was on the foothills of the Swartberge. The veld looked green and healthy here. There was long grass and flowers growing between the bushes and trees. A line of sweet thorn and other trees ran down from a kloof, so there was probably a river bed. There were also those old gwarries and spekboom trees all over the veld.
‘Slow down a second,’ I said to Candy.
We were passing a grove of trees, with a strange fence around it.
‘Pomegranate trees,’ I said. ‘But the fruit is small and green.’
‘Looks like an electric fence,’ said Candy. ‘Attached to solar panels.’
She was right – there were two panels at the bottom of the field, catching the sun.
‘What’s that barking sound?’ she said.
‘Baboons,’ I said, hoping it wasn’t Dirk and Anna we were hearing.
But it was baboons. As we turned a bend in the road, we saw them running out of a greenhouse. They were galloping out, their arms full of stuff, like rude customers at a summer sale. One baboon was sitting on the glass roof eating a bunch of black grapes.
Ahead of us was the farmhouse.
‘There’s the ambulance,’ said Candice.
‘Your phone?’ I said.
We parked next to the ambulance. Candy handed me her phone and I called Hattie.
‘The ambulance is here,’ I said.
‘Goodness! Is everything all right?’