Deadline

by Zaheera Walker

  Then they raced back through peak-hour traffic, punched and polished the story on the blinking monitor, and downloaded the photographs.

  Everything was done in record time. Phew!

  Feriyal went through it with a fine comb. Perfect. Like a picture.

  Before submitting it, she removed her name. Gave all the credit to Buhle. They went home satisfied.

  ***

  “Well done. First day and you secure page three lead. Excellent!” Aneel grinned that morning. He wanted to rub it in Feriyal’s face. Buhle did a little curtsy, then turned to face her partner in crime.

  “We wrote the story together. What happened to your by-line?”

  “Took it off. This is your story. Don’t forget to follow up on the child’s recovery.” She winked at the astounded girl. “It’s your time to shine. There are just a few days left for me. When I’m gone, you will be doing the razzle dazzle. Yesterday was your test run. Today, the glory is for you.

  Bask in it.”

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The last day dawned too soon. The end of her time at the Daily Voice. The end of a pay cheque. The final chapter in the book of her life as a reporter. Feriyal’s future was painted bleak on the mental canvas spread out before her.

  How was she going to break the news to her mother? The woman who bought newspapers for everyone when Feriyal’s first article was published. A tiny filler about a car crash; ninety words. Nothing worth a mention.

  How was she going to disappoint that woman? She had put it off all this time, but now there was no turning back. The mother who was so proud of her achievements. Her only daughter. Only child. There was no husband; no father.

  ***

  “Hey Buhle, would you mind if I did the checks with the emergency services this morning?” She wanted to be in the office on her last day. Spend the time saying goodbye to everyone. To pack her stuff. To be alone.

  “That’s okay, my friend.” Buhle squeezed her tight before heading off on the court rounds.

  She wrote a letter to Anne Jones. The mother-figure. A confidante and friend. The fifty-something blonde reporter who had taught Feriyal the ropes of smart news reporting. How to identify a potential story. How to do a story behind the story. How to be proactive. How to handle difficult news sources. A wealth of experience. They often covered stories together, and went out for lunch or coffee. They shopped for clothes. Anne was enjoying an English summer. She was visiting her daughter, who was due to give birth.

  Feriyal drew a big red heart on the envelope and slipped the letter in. She licked it sealed and placed it in Anne’s top drawer.

  The day dragged on. The office Feriyal loved was now becoming claustrophobic. She needed to leave the place that did not need her anymore. Her thoughts ran away with her. It was not the office that didn’t want her. It was him. Only him. Aneel Simha. Editor. Period.

  She found an old box in the storeroom. Perfect to pack the few items that belonged to her. Life didn’t give her much. She had a mother. A cramped flat. A few items of clothing. Three pairs of shoes. Even the items on her desk were few. A framed poem. A gift someone gave to her on the first day. A photo of her mother. A desk clock that no longer worked. A portfolio of published articles. These items were symbolic of the life she lived. A simple life. The one dotted with a few interesting moments.

  She glanced at the newsroom clock. Tick, tick, tick. There was no tock. It deceived her. Just like Aneel did.

  ***

  Her mother was preparing dhal and rice for supper this time. They discussed the menu before she left each morning. The meals were simple, but she served it with love to her hardworking daughter. It was 4pm.

  Time to go home. Time to say a final goodbye. The staff didn’t want to send her off without a farewell party. Someone bought a cake and cooldrinks. They all wanted to say a few words. They were going to miss Feriyal. The one who brought the sunshine when the days were dark.

  “Thank you.” She felt the tears building up in her throat. “Thank you for sharing these final moments with me. Each of you played a special part in my progress here. You helped me write my first article. Showed me how to use the camera. Tricks of the trade.” Her voice cracked. “I want to thank Aneel for taking me under his wing.” She tried to find him among the group. He was not there. Missing in action. “Thank you, wherever you are, Aneel.”

  There was not a dry eye in that newsroom. On that day when Feriyal picked up her box. On that day when she said goodbye to her Daily Voice family.

  ***

  She was on the bus when her phone buzzed. “Hello. Can I help you?” It was him. Feriyal was pleased. Maybe there was still some good in him.

  “Seems you didn’t leave the contact book behind like I asked. You found those contacts while you worked here. Those contacts belong to this newspaper. I want the book back. Now.” He cut her off before she could utter a response.

  Too shocked to call him back, Feriyal took another bus to the office. She left the book with the security guard on the ground floor, then caught the last bus home that evening.

  It snailed its way to Phoenix. Neighbours were watching Days of Our Lives, an American soapy set in the town of Salem. A place none of them would visit. Yet they watched the story unfold with deep concentration.

  She saw wives and some husbands nestled in front of their

  TVs. Toddlers scampered about in the yard. There was no playground nearby. Older children rode their hand-medown bicycles. Everyone seemed content. Life was simple. Only for them.

  Her legs felt like iron as she climbed the steps to the third floor. She turned the key to unlock the door. The kitchen was filled with fragrant aromas of coriander, mint and cumin. There was the melting butter smell of braised onions. “Salaams Ma. I’m home.” Feriyal dropped like a rock onto the sofa. A world off her feet.

  “Are you home already, Feri? It’s very early for you.” The old woman sat beside her. “But it’s nice to have you all to myself.” Mother and daughter. Just the two of them. They held hands. Moments of silence.

  Golden moments. She didn’t want to ruin the evening. Her dreadful news had to wait. Perhaps another day. When the time was right.

  ***

  The dark of night came. It covered the community like a veil enshrouding a bride’s gaze.

  “I’ve been thinking, Ma. I don’t know much about our family. If someone asked me about my roots, I wouldn’t know what to say.”

  Feriyal tried hard to block out the painful memories of her dismissal. That episode had to be replaced with warm thoughts. Family thoughts.

  Her mother thought it was strange she was focussing on family. Now, after all this time. Like a bolt from the blue. All along, she seemed content having just a mother. She didn’t seem interested in the others. The ones who made up the cousins, aunts and uncles. “I have no brothers or sisters. Your father was the only child for his parents. When he was killed, they didn’t cope well. They died soon after. Of a broken heart more than anything.” She asked Feriyal to find the photo albums in her wardrobe. “I had lots of cousins. We played together and I didn’t feel alone. Some passed away over the years. A few live in Cape Town.”

  “Why don’t they visit us, Ma? It would be nice for me to know them.”

  “Guess we carried on with our lives. Too occupied to realise the space growing between us. Cape Town is far, but we must make the effort. Just for you to know the family.”

  “Yes, Ma. That will be wonderful. When the time is right, we’ll visit them. Or they can come here.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  The cock crowed like an alarm clock. On time. Always.

  A ringing phone irritated her sleep. Who could be calling at this hour? She hoped it was him. Hoped he was going to apologise for behaving like a pig. Ask her to come back. To start afresh.

  “Morning. Can I help you?” Feriyal cursed the invention of cell phones. All she wanted was to curl up in bed. To lose herself under her handmade duvet.

  “Hi. It
’s Shane.” It was not Aneel. “Shane Black from the Morning Chimes. Do you remember me?”

  She felt bloodcurdling cold. A shiver down her spine. Shane Black! The editor. How could she forget him? He had held her hostage with a sensual gaze that penetrated her core. Did she want to forget him? No.

  They had stolen a kiss at a media conference last summer. A lifetime ago. Why was he calling?

  His husky voice startled her. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and sat up. “Yes. Yes, I remember.” She placed her hand over the mouthpiece and opened her mouth wide to yawn. She cleared her throat and coughed to get her flow going. “How are you? Been a while, hey. Good to hear your voice.” Feriyal struggled to be professional. “What can I do for you?”

  Her words said one thing, but her actions another. She was melting like rich yellow butter. Dying to taste his lips. Again. Wondering what it would feel like to roam her tongue inside his mouth.

  “Hope you don’t mind, but I got this number from your newspaper. Heard you are no longer with the Daily Voice. Whatever happened?” He had an element of surprise in his voice. No. He sounded shocked. She was a brilliant reporter. Not afraid to tell it like it was.

  “Agh, it’s life. One minute you’re building it. Next it crashes. My contract ended. Aneel did not need me anymore.” Her mother was asleep inthe next room. She lowered her voice. “I’ll find something soon.”

  “Tell you what, Feriyal. Come to my office this morning. Let’s chat. No promises, but I’m gonna try to help. My diary is open for the day. How about 9am?” He was eager. Excited. He wanted to see her. Kiss her cherry flavoured lips again. Melt like a chocolate sundae all over her.

  “Well. I don’t have a job to go to. I’m sure I can squeeze you into my ‘unhectic’ schedule.” She giggled like a schoolgirl. “See you in a bit.”

  The meeting worked out great. Another day she could hold off telling her mother she was not going back to work. She freshened up, gobbled the breakfast laid out on the table, grabbed her bag, kissed her mother and ran out of the door.

  ***

  She arrived at the Morning Chimes way before the scheduled appointment. The staff here had a deadline a bit after the Daily Voice. Feriyal waited in the reception lounge. She read a newspaper, then scanned a magazine, and then another. All the time in the world. No rush. No fuss. No money. No job.

  A voice in her head advised her to be perfect. To smell perfect and act it too. She had run out of deodorant two days ago. The only option was to steal a couple of sprays. There was a drugstore next door.

  She told the receptionist she had to step away for a short while. “No problem, dear. Mr Black has cleared his diary for you today.”

  The store was quiet. There was nobody in the aisles. She favoured the light flower-scented Impulse. Quick. Zzzzt. ZZZZzzzt. Another sprayon her wrist. She rubbed both together.

  “Mmmm. You smell nice.” The lady at the till winked as she was leaving.

  Busted. Everything was captured on the CCTV camera.

  However, there was no time for guilt. Back to the Morning Chimes.

  She danced her way to the office. Quick step. Quick step. He was waiting in his office. Shane Black was waiting for her!

  “Hi. You look stunning. As always.” He shook her hand. People could see them. He had to act formal and professional. “Come, let’s take a seat.” He pointed to the round mahogany table. A table with no leader.

  A table where everyone was equal. Free and fair. A bit like the code of conduct. Ethics.

  “Thanks for the call this morning. It was a surprise. A pleasant one. I didn’t expect to hear from you after... after that conference.” Feriyal blushed like a schoolgirl. The one who won the heart of a top footballer.

  Shane leant in. “I’ll kiss you again, Feriyal. I like you.

  Really like you. Guess I held back because it was all new for you.” He raised his right hand. “Let’s leave that for later. Right now, I want to know what plans you have for the future.”

  Feriyal was relieved to hear he did not regret that uncomfortable, awkward kiss. “Well, you know the Daily Voice was my life. I didn’t save for the future. Didn’t think Aneel was going to let me go.” She had built her trust with ease and it had come back to burn her. “He always told me not to worry. That I would secure a post, because I was eager.”

  “I’m sorry this happened. Sad that I couldn’t do anything to stop it. I won’t lie, but I’m glad you’re a free agent now. I would love to have you on my paper. Right now, there isn’t much.” He believed in her. She had the winning formula. “There will be a post in about three months. Maybe sooner. I think it will suit you just right.”

  “It’s better than nothing, Shane. Thank you for reaching out to me.”

  Feriyal offered to assist him whenever he was short staffed. She did not want to lose her skill.

  “That’s sorted, then. So what has been happening in your life? Are you seeing anyone? I know its custom for arranged marriages in your culture.” Shane wanted to know. He wanted to know there was still hope. It had nothing to do with his offer to assist her. “You’re a beautiful woman. Someone must have snapped you up by now.” She threw her head back and swivelled her chair. Jet-black mane cascaded around her shoulders. “Things are different now. Mother allows me to make my own choices. No. I don’t have anyone special in my life. Maybe that will change after I establish myself.” Feriyal told him about her life. Her father’s tragic death. How her mother had raised her alone.

  For a change, she spoke about her ordinary life. The lack of luxury that came with it. She spoke too of the love that replaced the absence of the material world. However, unless he saw how she lived, he didn’t quite understand how bare her life was.

  He could listen to her all day, mesmerised by the heart shape of her luscious lips. Lips that moved with sensual style. She reminded him of strawberry and cream. Of innocence. Of purity. A sexual longing too.

  Shane desired her there and then. He wanted to know the taste of her mouth. The feel of her hair. Touch of her breasts. To feel her silkiness against his skin. The wanting was driving him crazy. It was love that he felt. Not lust. However, he held back. He couldn’t take the plunge. It was a risk to make the first move. He didn’t want to lose her or drive her away. He remembered that moment they were alone; alone in the wild and free Drakensberg Mountains, planting kisses on her cheeks.

  A quick one on the lips. Slow and gentle down her neck. It was hot and cold. Exciting and dangerous. Delicious and pungent. Gorgeous mounds of tanned breasts. Her fingers weaving into his hair. Standing on tiptoes to meet his height. There wasn’t much time to explore the map of her body. Time enough for one kiss. One deep kiss. It had happened almost a year ago. Yet he remembered it like yesterday. He broke his gaze. “Let’s not waste a perfect day. How about some crumpets and ice cream? I know this cute place at the Botanical Gardens.” He slipped on his coat and grabbed his briefcase.

  Feriyal knew that place well. She often went there when she had a break from lectures. “Yes, that’s a great idea. I haven’t been there in ages.”

  Shane approached his personal assistant’s desk. “Charmaine. I won’t be back for the rest of the day. Please handle my calls.” She nodded and waved them off.

  ***

  They ate, walked through the gardens, admired bursts of coloured petals and wondered how the horticulturalists kept everything alive – even in the dead of winter. They made body contact at every chance. Then it was time to say goodbye. He drove away. She boarded a bus. That day ended too soon.

  ***

  The sound of music soothed her troubled soul, but where was it coming from? The noise from the blaring speakers on the bus drowned it out. It was Feriyal’s outdated cell phone. The one that looked like a brick. Felt like one too.

  “Hello Princess Feriyal. I’m back. How are you? How’s the love life? Meet anyone while I was away?” Anne Jones was checking in on her favourite girl. Her holiday seemed like it went on fore
ver. Four weeks.

  “I’m a grandma now. Isn’t that wonderful? Lou gave birth to a chubby chop. His name’s Matthew. Gorgeous little man!” She had an album of family photographs to show Feriyal. “Can we meet tomorrow? There’s so much catching up to do.”

  Anne was an effervescent character. She worked as a court reporter in England and had countless tales to tell. Feriyal recalled the first time they had chatted about court reporting. “I was in a London courtroom one day.” She pouted her lips and adjusted her spectacles. “The magistrate ordered the usher to call for More Decorum.” Here in South Africa, we refer to them as court orderlies. She went on to say that the usher literally went outside looking for “More Decorum, More Decorum. You need to take the stand!” The poor man returned to say there was no response.

  “There was a hush of giggles. Even the magistrate was stunned. Amused too, but then it was explained that she wanted him to ask everyone outside to keep quiet. Not look for a person called More Decorum.

  “Congratulations. Wonderful to have you back. Missed you. You’ll never know how much. Say hello to Lou when you speak to her again. It’s hard to believe she settled down. She was a heartbreaker of note. Now a mother and wife.” Feriyal became silent. It felt like the words in her dictionary were gone. Everyone seemed content, but her world was filled with sadness. She wondered when it was going to be time for her to be at ease with life too. “Yes. Tomorrow’s good. Coffee in the morning. Same place?”

  The same place where they had enjoyed several cups of coffee this past year. It was also another day in her favour. Again, her mother didn’t have to know anything. Not yet.

  She was at the Game City Shopping Centre before the start of business. Anne buzzed to say she was on the way. After her long break, she had a mountain of messages to clear off her desk. It was holding her up. They agreed to meet at the Wimpy.

  Hugs and air kisses later, they sat down on the soft red chairs, away from the smokers. They did not smoke. Detested cigarettes. It was a waste of money. Cigarettes made you poorer. It made you look older than your age. Your teeth stained yellow. The stench of tobacco stayed in your hair, permeated your clothes and hands. Then it killed you in the end. The cycle of a smoker.