An Unquiet Place

by Clare Houston

  ‘I can drop you at your gate, Hannah,’ called Kathryn.

  ‘And drive me twenty metres round the corner? No, I’ll be fine.’

  They waved and Hannah walked down the front end of the block, passing the shop gate. The power hadn’t come back on yet, and the street was darker than Hannah had expected. Feeling silly, but wishing she’d taken up Kathryn’s offer, she quickened her pace. At the best of times, the dark unnerved her, but the talk of ghosts and scary Esme added a layer of anxiety, and her heart pounded a beat in her ears. As she rounded the corner, she noticed a car parked across the road which hadn’t been there when she’d left. It had a Free State number plate but its windows were black, revealing nothing. She hurried in through her gate, taking the steps two at a time, key ready in her hand. As she reached forwards to unlock, a figure rose from a chair in the shadows. Hannah screamed. In two strides, the figure had grabbed her. She kicked out, connecting with bone, adrenalin pumping through every inch of her. She wrestled the iron grip on her, about to scream again when she realised the figure was saying, ‘Hannah! Stop it, Hannah!’ Todd’s voice. She twisted away from his hands, her heart stuttering. Her fingers rattled the key as she opened the kitchen door.

  Once inside she managed, with shaking fingers, to find her stash of candles and set some on the kitchen counter. As she lit the last one, the lights came on, blinding her. ‘Bloody power cuts!’

  ‘You sit,’ said Todd, still rubbing his shin. ‘I’ll sort out some coffee. Have you been drinking?’

  ‘Just a few glasses of wine with supper,’ she said, then wondered why she was explaining to him. He took charge of her kitchen, figuring out the unfathomable coffee machine in seconds and setting a cup of very strong coffee in front of her. She hated black coffee, but he had always insisted that milk and sugar ruin the flavour. Now she hated herself for obediently sipping it. He studied her small house without comment. She glanced around the kitchen and saw what he was seeing. Her ProNutro bowl in the sink from breakfast, Patchy’s food bowl on the counter. A jersey and bag heaped on the chair. Books piled next to her computer on the table. General disorder. The familiar feeling of inadequacy came slinking back.

  ‘What are you doing here, Hannah?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Hannah folded her arms across her lap.

  ‘I mean this concentration camp nonsense.’

  ‘It’s not nonsense,’ she said, feeling childish.

  ‘Hannah,’ he said smoothly, persuasively, ‘I can’t have you digging up Afrikaner Nationalism in the current climate.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  He sighed. ‘Hannah, don’t you know anything that’s going on? We’re in a political crisis. The opposition is having a field day with our leadership. We simply do not need someone digging up the past, and such a loaded past right now.’

  ‘Are you talking about the ANC party’s not needing controversy or not needing you?’

  Todd’s eyes hardened. ‘Do you have any idea how this looks? I’ve worked my arse off to build my reputation and credentials with a black party, and now my fucking fiancée is making headlines with old Afrikaner propaganda!’

  Hannah slammed her mug down on the table, noting his horror at the hot coffee spilling onto the wood. She pushed her chair away from the table. ‘Firstly, I am not your fiancée, Todd, fucking or otherwise. And secondly, nobody knows about this dig, so what the hell are you going on about?’

  He pulled his leather attaché case from below the table. She had bought it for him in Italy. Spent a fortune on it – just before she found out he was sleeping with someone else. He unclipped the flap, hauled a newspaper from it, and threw it across the table so that it skidded in front of her. The paper was folded to an inside page but the headline was bold, ‘South African War Concentration Camp Found on Free State Farm’. Below the headline was a picture of Hannah and Joseph on site, looking across the plateau.

  ‘Where did this story come from?’ said Hannah, horrified, thinking about Alistair.

  ‘I’m glad you grasp the seriousness of this,’ said Todd. ‘The best thing is for you to come back to Cape Town. As long as you aren’t here, I should be able to distance myself from it. Leave Joseph to do his thing.’

  ‘It’s also my thing, Todd.’

  ‘Hannah,’ his voice returned to the smooth tone, ‘your parents are sick with worry. Your department head is wondering where you are. I’ve even heard talk of a junior lectureship in the offing … If you come back with me, I can arrange it. Hannah, I care about you.’ He moved over to her and slid his hands around her waist, pulling her hips closer. The familiar smell of him hit her nostrils, expensive aftershave, laundered cotton. He lowered his face to her neck and she felt his tongue on her skin.

  Hannah felt the drift into passivity, like an insect being drawn into a swirl of water to a drain. ‘What do you know about archaeology anyway, Hannah? Why not stick to your strengths? Come. In the morning, I’ll help you pack. We can drive back together.’

  ‘I have a job, Todd, I can’t just walk out.’

  He lifted his head and his handsome face was suddenly ugly. ‘It’s a shop assistant job. How hard can it be to give notice?’

  Hannah wished she could summon the guts to push him away, fire the words to tell him to get out, but they simply wouldn’t come. She couldn’t tell Alistair that she wanted to be with him and now she couldn’t tell this … this bully to get out of her life. What was wrong with her?

  Just then, keys sounded in the lock, and Joseph pushed the door open.

  ‘I thought you were staying on the farm,’ said Hannah with relief, extracting herself from Todd.

  ‘I changed my mind.’ Joseph’s gaze came to rest on Todd, whose mouth was curved in a self-satisfied smile. ‘It’s been a while, Todd. What are you doing here?’ It wasn’t often that Hannah saw Joseph unfriendly, but now it rolled off him.

  ‘Isn’t it obvious?’ said Todd, snagging a strand of Hannah’s hair and bringing it to his lips.

  ‘Did you come to apologise?’ said Joseph, still standing.

  Todd curved his other hand around Hannah’s hips. ‘Apologise for what?’ She looked nervously at Joseph but his stare was only for Todd.

  ‘I don’t know, for being an arrogant, unfaithful prick, perhaps?’

  Todd pushed Hannah away. ‘Just hang on—’

  ‘Joseph, enough,’ said Hannah. Joseph raised his hands in mock apology, and turned to the sink, pouring himself a glass of water.

  ‘Are you heading back tonight, Todd?’ said Joseph with his back to the room.

  Todd looked across at Hannah. ‘No, I was thinking of staying a few days, actually.’

  Joseph turned and leant against the sink. ‘There’s a small hotel down the road. I can show you where it is now, if you like. Unfortunately, this place is pretty cramped with Hannah and me here,’ he smiled, not looking in the least apologetic.

  Todd stood and picked up his attaché case, leaving the newspaper on the table. ‘I’ll find it myself, thanks. Hannah?’ he raised his brows at her. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow?’

  Joseph opened the door for him and shut it firmly, locking it before Todd was even off the deck. He turned back into the room to see Hannah scrubbing her face with her hands.

  ‘What the hell is he doing here?’

  ‘The dig has somehow made it into the paper – look.’ She passed the paper over to him. ‘How did the press find out about it? Joseph, it was a condition of Alistair’s that it stays out the media.’

  ‘I’m not worried about Alistair,’ said Joseph sitting down at the table and examining the article. ‘Why is Todd the Sod here?’

  ‘He says we’re digging up old Nationalist propaganda and it’s going to ruin his career with the ANC.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘No, Joseph, not good. What if he causes trouble? He’ll be able to pull all sorts of party strings – what if he sabotages our application?’

  ‘And the bastard wouldn’t think
twice. Damn! Maybe I shouldn’t have been so rude.’

  ‘Ya think?’

  ‘Did he actually threaten you?’ said Joseph, looking up at her.

  ‘No, he wants me to pack up and go back to Cape Town with him.’ Hannah stared at her hands on the table.

  ‘With him, with him?’

  She felt terribly tired. ‘I don’t know, Josey. He’s a bully, I see that. But he did have a point. What am I doing here? I don’t know anything about archaeology or running a shop or being a farmer’s wife for that matter.’

  ‘Whoa.’ Joseph leant back in his chair. ‘You’ve got ahead of me, a farmer’s wife? When did that happen?’

  She stood and pushed in her chair, smiling sadly at him. ‘Nothing’s happened, that’s the problem. I’m exhausted, Jose. I’m going to bed.’ She left him sitting at the table, staring at the paper.

  Hannah slept fitfully. She awoke with a headache and somebody’s words ringing in her head … You haven’t even begun to discover your strength. Pushing them from her mind, she had a shower. Then, feeling marginally better, she went through to the kitchen where Joseph was standing at the sink, finishing his coffee.

  ‘Morning, Sunshine,’ he said, turning as she came in. She felt the farthest thing from sunny, and muttered under her breath as she put the kettle back on to boil.

  ‘I think I know who our leak is,’ said Joseph, putting his mug in the sink. ‘I think one of the students took this picture. I’ll interrogate her this morning.’

  ‘Why do you think she did it?’

  ‘I don’t think she’s malicious, just not the sharpest. I laid out the rules before we started, and no media contact was one of them. But this girl is permanently on her phone – she probably didn’t think that Facebook counts as media. It would just take one journalist friend to ask her some questions and there we are, Hannah and Joseph, famous at last.’ Hannah smiled at his effort to cheer her up. ‘Have a good day, Han. I’ll call you later to check what the Sod is doing. If he’s still around, I’ll come back here tonight.’

  ‘Joseph, you don’t have to hover, you know. I am a grown-up. I should be able to look after myself.’

  ‘You are perfectly able to look after yourself; it’s just more fun this way.’

  ‘You just love a pissing contest.’

  ‘Oh, you know me so well.’ He grinned, stopping at her chair on his way out and bending to plant a kiss on the top of her head.

  ‘Not so well, apparently. I had no idea you were sweet, Joseph Harrison.’

  He threw her a smile over his shoulder as he left.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Hannah opened the shop at eight o’clock, glad for the routine to distract her from her thoughts. It was quiet, and she managed to catch up on admin she’d let slide over the busy Christmas period. Barbara came in at nine and they worked companionably. Hannah felt herself relax, the only demand being that of her admin systems, and she found creating order there therapeutic.

  At ten o’clock, the doorbell tinkled and she looked up to see Todd come in, followed by Moses Motala, the mayor. Moses smiled kindly at Hannah, nodding his head in greeting. Hannah’s stomach immediately cramped. Todd had a familiar, triumphant smirk on his face.

  Barbara, taking one look at Hannah’s face, whispered that she would deal with the shop. ‘Take them into the reading room. I’ll be right here if you need me.’

  Hannah nodded gratefully and led the men across the passage. Todd sat down immediately, setting his attaché case on the table like a lawyer about to interview a witness. Moses remained standing, waiting for Hannah to take a seat before he pulled out a chair for himself.

  Todd launched into a monologue about the ANC party’s vision for a united South Africa, about the dangers of divisive history, and how pursuing a dig like this, resurrecting the concentration camp narrative, would be contrary to the cause of nation building. When he at last stopped and turned to Moses, he was puffed up with satisfaction.

  ‘Moses is, as you know, a senior ANC party member in the Free State. He has much political clout in the area, and I brought him here to convince you that continuing is not an option. What if Leliehoek becomes the centre of something ugly? What if this turns the communities against each other? If this dig upsets the tenuous balance between blacks and whites again? In fact, Moses has enough connections with SAHRA to halt the process altogether, if it be in the country’s best interests.’

  Moses had been sitting quietly, listening intently, and now he cleared his throat. ‘I understand your concerns, comrade.’ Hannah’s heart plummeted. ‘I came here today to hear you out. I have been the mayor of Leliehoek for a long time now. I know this town.’ He looked at Hannah becoming smaller and smaller in her chair. ‘Comrade, your concerns sound noble, but I think Leliehoek can handle this fine.’

  ‘What?’ Todd sat forward in surprise, opening his mouth to disagree, but Moses held his hand up.

  ‘Since you called me last night, I’ve done some phoning around myself. This community has long since grasped difference, like a stinging nettle, you know? We’ve got used to the sting now. If nothing else, the exposure and tourism potential of this dig could be good for us. I do have connections with SAHRA, but, Hannah, I think I might lend my support to this dig, rather than my opposition.’

  Todd drew a sharp breath and was about to launch forth another time, but Moses held his hand up again. ‘And I also know the ANC. I have been a member since I was eighteen, before 1994. Believe me, I know about tensions and divides.’ He paused for a moment, and then said gently to Todd, ‘Look to your own position in the ANC, comrade. If there is any threat at all, it would be for you, not for the party or the country for that matter.’

  Moses pushed his chair out and Hannah saw him to the door, where he shook her hand and thanked her for the meeting. When she returned, Todd was sitting slumped in his chair and Hannah felt a moment’s pity for him. He had spent years building his political reputation; it would be unfortunate if it came crashing down around him. But then, Todd was a politician through and through. She doubted whether he would stay down for long. She couldn’t imagine his allegiance to the ANC was based on anything more than convenience. If things were to sour there, he would no doubt find a place in another party, no matter how ideologically different the alternative might be.

  He looked up and she cringed at the malice in his eyes. Before he could say anything, the shop phone rang, and Hannah jumped to escape and answer it, relieved Barbara was busy with a customer.

  ‘Leliehoek Books.’ There was silence on the other end. ‘Hello?’

  Nothing.

  She put the phone down and, as she moved back to the reading room, the phone in her house began to ring. She darted down the passage to answer it. ‘Hello?’

  Nothing.

  Hannah replaced the receiver slowly and returned to the shop. Just as she pulled the passage door closed behind her, the shop phone began to ring again. She heard Barbara answer it: ‘Leliehoek Books. Hello? Hello?’

  Hannah walked through to Barbara, took the receiver from her, and, putting her finger on her lips, placed the receiver on the desk without hanging up. Whoever was doing this could damn well pay for a long call. If she didn’t hang up, then the caller couldn’t call out again. Walking back through to the house, Hannah also took her home phone off the hook.

  By the time she got back to the reading room, Todd was standing at the window. ‘Even the phones don’t work in this shithole.’

  ‘Todd, I’ve got work to do. It’s better if you go.’

  ‘I’m waiting for you to pack up and come back to Cape Town. I’ll sit here all week until you do.’ The stubborn set of his jaw made him look petulant. ‘You know I’m right. You know that you’re not cut out for this dump – you’re a city girl. You’ll never cope out here once the novelty wears off. You belong in Cape Town. The galleries, the restaurants, the wine estates, the parties. You love it there!’

  ‘No,’ said Hannah quietly, ‘you love
it there. You’ve never asked if I do.’

  ‘Stop being so fucking melodramatic – your friends are there, Hannah, and most importantly, your work!’

  ‘Actually, my friends are here and my work is here.’

  ‘Work? In this crappy little shop? When you could be lecturing at UCT? You’ve got to be fucking joking.’

  ‘I’m happy here, Todd,’ she said softly.

  ‘No, you’re not.’

  He wasn’t listening and she gave up.

  ‘I’ve got an errand to run.’ Backing out the room, she stuck her head into the shop. ‘I have to get out of here,’ she whispered to Barbara, who clearly had been straining her ears to catch every word. ‘Ignore him.’ Hannah indicated with her head to the reading room. ‘Hopefully he’ll go away.’

  Barbara rolled her eyes. ‘At least get me something from Kathryn’s as compensation.’

  Hannah crossed the square to Kathryn’s and found Douglas sitting at the counter, sipping hot chocolate. He was dressed in a formal black shirt, a white collar at his throat.

  ‘You look very sombre this morning, Hannah,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Perhaps you should’ve taken the funeral instead of me.’

  ‘A funeral? Oh, sorry, Douglas, that must’ve been hard for you.’

  ‘Not at all,’ he said, grinning. ‘She was ninety-seven in the shade and had been on her deathbed at least seven times in the last year. The family was getting fed up with racing from all over the country to say goodbye, only for the old duck to make a miraculous recovery. She had them exactly where she wanted them! Marvellous old bird.’

  Hannah smiled at him, envying his buoyancy.

  Kathryn came through from the back. ‘Hannah, can I get you something?’

  ‘Um, yes, something to take back to Barbara. I left her with Todd.’

  Kathryn’s eyes widened. ‘Todd’s here?’

  ‘Who’s Todd?’ said Douglas.

  ‘Hannah’s ex-fiancé from Cape Town.’ She turned back to Hannah. ‘What does he want?’

  ‘He wants me to go back with him. He wants me away from the dig – says it will ruin his political career with the ANC.’