The day he finished school, he packed his bags and headed for the big city with Heidi by his side. He won a bursary to study engineering and Heidi could continue her nursing at a big government hospital.
Mother was better now, cooking and bathing by herself. Although completely off her rocker, she beautified herself each morning awaiting Wills’ return. Henry turned eighteen years old the day the bus dropped them in the center of Johannesburg. Heidi had some money and paid a deposit on a tiny apartment. This was where they were going to start their new life. This is where they were going to forget where they came from. At first, they slept on a blanket on the floor. He immediately got a job at a local supermarket in the evenings packing shelves. Soon, they had enough money for a bed.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Hobbs knocked on the door just after eight. He phoned to say he would be a little late. He took a few steps back from the door and folded his hands in front of his chest. The door swung open. A clean-faced girl stood in front of him, her dark hair tied up in a high ponytail.
“Jeanine?”
“What are you doing here?” Hobbs snapped.
“I live here.”
“With Doctor Mayer?”
“She’s my aunt.”
Doctor Mayer waddled towards them from the kitchen, bringing with her a whiff of wonderful aromas. A huge, orange apron was tied around her body. Hobbs thought she looked like the Oros Man. She wore men’s slippers on her feet.
“Welcome, welcome!” Doctor Mayer wiped her hands on the apron before she held her arms out for a hug.
Hobbs briefly leaned forward for a slight embrace. Doctor Mayer patted him on the back. “Nice of you to come. You met my niece Jeanie?”
Both Hobbs and Jeanie nodded.
“I’ll take over in the kitchen,” Jeanine said and skipped off.
Yes, skipped off—like a twelve year old.
The living room was exactly what one would expect a granny’s to look like. Two wingback chairs stood separated by an overfilled coffee table along the furthest wall. On top of the heap of old newspapers was a remote control. Both chairs were covered with a dainty, floral material. One of the chairs looks very used.
That is where she sits.
“Welcome, welcome,” Doctor Mayer repeated. “Where do you know my niece from?”
“From a few crime scenes. We were never introduced formally. I did not know she was your niece. I did not even know you had a niece,” Hobbs answered.
“Did you not introduce yourself?” Doctor Mayer asked.
“I probably did. Or maybe she did. I can’t remember.” Hobbs was stunned for a moment. “She looks so young. How old is she exactly?”
“That young girl is much older than what she looks,” Doctor Mayer continued. “She is a forensic psychologist. Lived a very sheltered life—that is why she looks so good. Maybe we should try it sometime.”
“Try what? Must we try to look younger as well? Live sheltered lives and let the murderers and rapists run wild?”
“No silly, we should try to slow down sometimes.”
Doctor Mayer turned and walked down the hall to the kitchen. “Come,” she shouted at Hobbs over her shoulder.
Jeanine was busy stirring one of the many pots on the stove. The kitchen was an aroma of divine smells. He could definitely smell cinnamon and ginger. Fresh cut ginger was one of his favorite smells.
“Jeanine,” Doctor Mayer said, “this is Captain George Hobbs. But I’m sure he won’t mind if you called him George. He said that you have worked on the same scene together.”
In the harsh light of the kitchen she looks different. He felt like a wordless idiot. She was indeed not that young, perhaps in her mid-twenties. A pair of dark brown eyes, alive with wicked mischief, smiled at him. Still, very pretty.
“Hi George.”
“Nice to meet you,” Hobbs eventually managed.
“Likewise,” she said. They shook hands fleetingly without really looking at each other, almost too afraid to touch each other. She turned her attention back to the pots on the stove. Hobbs stood around like a six foot three salt pillar, not knowing where to move to in the small kitchen.
“Come, we go and sit in the living room and have a drink,” Doctor Mayer said as she hooked her arm through his and led him out of the kitchen.
“She is as shy and hurt as what you are. Perhaps even more so,” Doctor Mayer said. “Sit,” she continued. “What would you like to drink?”
“As much as possible.”
She walked over to a wooden drinks cabinet and took out a bottle of whiskey. She held it up in the air and Hobbs nodded at her. She poured two stiff drinks, handed his to him and sank into her wingback chair. The chair received her like a long, lost friend. She put her slippered feet on the ottoman in front of her.
Doctor Mayer chitchatted about several things before Jeanine joined them. He sat listening and giving the occasional nod, but mostly looking at the vast collection of photographs against the wall. The doctor’s life had been beautifully documented on the wall: as a little girl wearing a frilly, starched dress probably the last time she wore one; a few photographs of her with pets—a cat, a few dogs, and on a pony; a graduation photograph with her parents; then some color photographs of her receiving more degrees. Other photographs are of children. Hobbs wondered if she was ever married and had children. And whose daughter was Jeanie? A brother’s? A sister’s? He scanned the photographs again. His gut was all warmed up and he looked down at his glass. It was empty.
Memories—most of the houses he has been in have memories. My walls are bare. Not even a center page pin-up.
Jeanine sat nervously next to her aunt, as if to avoid the handsome man’s face. Her aunt had told her about him. She said he was a great guy and a brilliant detective.
The conversation dragged on about the psychology of a serial killer. Jeanine and her aunt did most of the talking. He asked occasional questions as if to show he was interested.
Every now and then he waved his glass in the air to hint that it was empty. Both women ignored that, or perhaps they just did not hear. Then his stomach growled loudly.
“Jeanine,” Doctor Mayer sat up immediately, “is the supper ready yet?”
“Yes and the table is set.”
“We like to keep things casual around here. We will just eat in the kitchen,” Doctor Mayer said. She lifted her feet off the ottoman, pushed her body forwards and slowly pushed herself out of the chair. Hobbs waited for her to take the lead.
Like ducks in a line, they waddled to the kitchen. Each found a chair and Doctor Mayer said grace. She insisted that they hold hands. He could feel the tingle as he touched Jeanie’s hand. Doctor Mayer’s hand was dry and old. After ‘amen’ she said, “Welcome and please help yourself.” She started dishing from the platter closest to her then passed it on to Jeanie.
The table was laden with home cooked food of roast chicken pieces, roast potatoes and steamed veggies. Hobbs was on his best behavior. Not wanting to be a pig, he dished modest helpings for himself. Jeanie poured red wine for them.
“Don’t be modest—eat!” Doctor Mayer urged him on between mouthfuls. She ate quickly, something Hobbs was never able to do. He saw that Jeanine also ate slowly.
“So why you two turtles chew each mouthful thirty-two times, I will tell you a story. I hate silences. I have enough of it during the day because the people I work with don’t talk back,” Doctor Mayer laughed at her own joke. She took a sip of wine, placed the glass carefully back on the table and made sure that she had their attention.
“Once…many, many, moons ago when I was still young and pretty, I worked for a United Nations Relieve agency and we were stationed in Beira, Mozambique. One night the Mozambican National Resistance rebels started bombarding the town. The fire got so heavy that we had to leave. The mortars destroyed just about every building in town, including the little hospital with its total of twelve beds. The roads were not safe because of all the land mines and booby tr
aps. So we all bundled the patients onto stretchers and into wheelchairs and fled to the station which was on the edge of town. What a comic lot we must have been. Except for the two night nurses, we were all in our nightgowns. It was chaos. The whole town was running towards the station. Mothers had babies on their backs and hips. Everyone was screaming and the children were crying. Some people managed to pack all their earthly possessions and were wheeling it around in wheelbarrows.
“Others had bundles of stuff on their heads. Three of my patients had drip stands on their wheelchairs and extra saline containers on their laps. They all had malaria. At the station, the whole town population tried to enter the building simultaneously through the double doors. I held the patients back and tried to make sense while the town exploded behind us. Eventually, we all bundled onto a train,” Doctor Mayer explained between sips of wine.
Jeanie had stopped eating and was listening intently while Hobbs had a second helping.
“The train was so full that people had to sit on the roof. I’m sure you must have seen images like that on the news. We told the boys and the men to sit on the roof. I managed to organize a makeshift hospital in part of one compartment. As soon as we were loaded the train took off. Latecomers clung to the side of the train and were helped on board by others. Eventually the train, an ancient steam engine, roared out of the station. The rebels actually tried to bomb the train, but their mortars luckily fell behind us on the rails. One or two came very close. As we steamed into the night, we could hear the Stalin organs shooting into the night. Anyway, we travelled for about three days. We stopped a few places to reload water. Most of the stations were deserted and dry. So eventually, we would stop next to rivers and the men would carry water to the locomotive in huge buckets. That took hours and hours to refill the water tanks. Luckily, the engineer said that he had enough coal to make the border. While the men carried water, I encouraged the women and children to bathe and clean the train coaches. Once we got going, the stench was unbelievable. I would say that for every hundred people there was maybe one toilet.
“The men urinated from the top of the train. If you happened to be downwind from them that was your bad luck, as all the windows were open because of the incredible heat. I was sprayed by urine maybe thirty times a day. Every time we stopped, the nurses and I would take the patients to the river, wash them, wash ourselves and try and rinse our mouths as best possible. The women took it onto themselves to gather food. Often we came across deserted villages. Then the chickens and goats would be caught, slaughtered and cooked. The maize and peanuts would be harvested and the people would feast together. Then we would set off into the horizon again. It was quite nerve racking as we were told that the rebels were actually giving chase. The machinist told me, the only white person there that we were heading for the Malawian border.
“Often the smell was so bad inside the carriages at times that we stood outside on those narrow, metal passages that hold the carriages together. It was scary and one had to hold on for dear life, but it was good to feel the fresh wind in your hair and the sunshine on your face. The carriages inside was a mess of screaming babies, wailing toddlers, and the stink of feces and vomit. Sick people lay in the passage ways. By now I had run out of medication. Mothers silently held their children. Sometimes the steam would blow into the carriages and suffocate just about all of us. So when the urine and spit did not blow into your face, the smoke choked you.
“The few times we did stop at a desolate railway station, everybody jumped off the train and drank the water that spilled from the tanks. We would soak ourselves completely…it was unbearably hot. Luckily, we had a few empty bottles on board, which we filled up because we never knew when we were going to stop again. We were also stopped twice by Mozambique Liberation Front troops, which are the government soldiers. They went through the whole train. Because I was the only whitey there, I naturally drew immediate attention and was questioned extensively. Most of these soldiers were young adolescents holding guns that are bigger than what they are. Most of them could not read or write. So showing my Relieve Agency papers and passport to them meant nothing. I got the bright idea and showed them my stethoscope. Then they all demanded medicine from me, which I did not have. Twice, I had to look at injuries that the soldiers obtained in the bush. One of the youngsters had stepped onto a rotten piece of metal and his foot was in the early stages of gangrene. I could do nothing for the soldiers, but I did give them advice about possible treatment. It was a trip from hell.”
Hobbs had a third helping of roast potatoes. He could feel his stomach stretching.
“Eventually, we approached the Malawian border. The train finally ran out of coal and water and stopped dead a few kilometers from Nsanje in Malawi, the border post. We had to get off and walk the few kilometers, which were but a tiny settlement on the border. Even the train driver got off and walked with us. There was no way he was going back to Beira, because for all purposes, he stole the train. We walked on the train tracks because of all the land mines. We stank to high heaven because of the heat and the lack of ablution. The Malawian border police saw this mass of people approaching, and soon we saw dozens of Land Rovers chasing through the bush to Nsanje.
“The locals were all trying to get to the refugee camps. I was trying to get to Blantyre, the capital of Malawi. From the border it was another five hours drive away. If I remember correctly, that whole area was a water insect-infested swamp. The Malawian Police made us sit down on a strip of soil next to the customs office. Don’t think ‘office’ in the sense of a brick building. Think corrugated iron…think outhouse. That whole custom building was perhaps the size of this kitchen…which is maybe four by six meters.” Doctor Mayer took a sip of wine. Hobbs turned his head to Jeanine and found her staring at him. At the moment, Hobbs could see the fire yellow specks in her hazel eyes. Then she dropped her head.
“I showed my papers to the border police and they were actually nice to me. I think they were glad to have a doctor onboard. At least most of them could read and speak good English. They told me that they would escort me to a Catholic Church just outside of town, where I would be well received and looked after. At least that was their assurance. And what an escort it was.” Doctor Mayer giggled and took a huge sip from her glass of wine. “They did not escort me in one of the Land Rovers. Oh no, I was escorted on bicycles. I sat on the back carrier of one of the bicycles while this poor police man paddled to high heaven. I must add though…there was a hell of a lot less of me those days. Two more police men flanked us as we cycled to the mission station. Another two policemen, I think they were juniors, jogged alongside the bicycles as additional guards. The three on the bicycles were all armed with these massive, ancient .303 rifles strapped to the bar of the bicycle. The two juniors had knobkierries. I suppose that if a lion jumped from behind a bush, the juniors would be the first line of defense, giving the cycling squat time to unstrap their guns from the bicycles. Very polite people, those Malawians. Very well spoken, very hard workers. Good wholesome people.
“It was nearing dusk when set off on this tiny road. If one can call it a road. I was a little bewildered. Firstly, a woman alone with five men, and secondly, I saw no sign whatsoever of any form of civilization. But the police men knew exactly where we were going. After what felt like a life time, with my brains scrambled by the bumpy ride, we arrived at the mission station. By now it was so dark I could not see my hands in front of my eyes. All I did was hold on for dear life.”
Doctor Mayer looked around the table. “Would you like anything else?”
Hobbs shook his head. “No thanks.”
“Am I boring you with my wild tales?”
“Actually no, it sounds fascinating.”
“The mission station had these massive walls, probably twenty feet tall, built from rocks surrounding the mission. The policemen used their knobkierries to hammer on these huge, wooden doors. I swear this place looked like an ancient fort. After much screaming in their nat
ive tongue, we eventually heard the rattling of keys. There, as the door opened, stood the mother superior from hell.” Doctor Mayer laughed out loud and filled her glass with more wine.
“My first impression of her was that she sucked on lemons and had a tick in her armpit. How could anybody with such a godly mission in life be so sour? But that’s beside the point. She was not amused at being awoken. I swear it could not have been later than eight in the evening. Later, I learned that they go to bed with the chickens.”
Doctor Mayer looked at the empty plates on the table. “Who would like some desert?” she asked and quickly added, “Jeanine, be a dear and dish up for us.”
“So, where was I…oh, yes—the police delivered me to this mission. The policemen were not allowed to enter. They could sleep overnight, but in the stables with the goats, donkeys, pigs and chickens.
“After listening to the policemen’s explanations about my presence there in their native tongue, mother superior barked at me to enter and lock the doors behind us. Without a word, she walked towards the only building that had a dim light. I followed like a sheep. The policemen quietly made their way to the stables. I was so tired. I felt as if I could sleep a thousand years. I just wanted to get out of this nightgown that I have been wearing for days and days. I just wanted to get out of this situation as fast as possible. She unlocked the front door of the convent and I then realized that the light was from a gas lamp. I followed the mother superior down a narrow hall. Suddenly, she stopped and pointed at a door. “You will sleep here” she said in a beautiful, British accent.
I entered the room,” Doctor Mayer said showing quotation marks with her fingers, “if you can call it a room. The place was about a meter and a half wide and about two meters long. The bed was pushed in the one corner with a little table squashed in between the bed and wall. If I remember correctly, the bed was as broad as four times my hand’s length. It was very narrow.
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