The afternoon light was shifting to golden as Hannah had seen it do in this valley. It brushed the distant sandstone faces, the grass even greener against the orange stone.
‘Did Suzanne come up to say goodbye this morning?’ Hannah pulled away to see his face as he watched the students, measuring and making sure their lines were straight.
‘Um, yes, she did. She told me the story of the women digging the hole up here.’
‘And what did you make of it?’
‘I’m not sure.’ He seemed distracted. ‘She said it was down this end of the plateau, but she was quite far away. She could have made a mistake. Her imagination perhaps filled in the rest.’
Hannah frowned. ‘Come on, Joseph, she’s hardly the type to make up ghost stories. You can’t get more rational than Suzanne.’
He kept looking out over the plateau. ‘No. Not an ounce of emotion there. But she’s gone now.’
She touched him lightly on his arm. ‘Sorry it didn’t work out with her, Jose. I know you had feelings for her.’
He looked at her then. ‘What? No, it’s fine. She didn’t get close enough for me to get my hopes up. So distant, even when we were talking. Like her heart had been cut off from her clever brain. I couldn’t get near her. But then she so clearly loves and engages with her family. I kept wondering if something had happened to her – hurt her badly, you know?’ His eyes searched Hannah’s for a moment, and then he shrugged and smiled. ‘It wasn’t to be, I guess.’
Hannah had never seen that puzzled, lost look in his eyes. Her confident, capable star of a brother. She had guessed this might happen, and had thought it would be good for him to be on the receiving end for a change. Now, seeing his confusion, she felt an empathy for him that had her putting her arm around his waist and squeezing him to her. ‘You’re a good person, Joseph, under all the crap.’
‘Right back at ya,’ he said squeezing her back and lifting her off her feet until she yelped.
Alistair pushed his hand through his hair and tipped his head back onto the chair. He was sitting on his veranda, a beer propped on one knee. ‘I don’t know how long I can go on like this, Dad. I’m exhausted. The calls, the threats. I’m ready to move on, but it doesn’t seem like I’m going to be allowed to.’
‘I think the time has come to do something more formal about Esme, my boy.’
‘What do you mean? What could we possibly do?’
‘Maybe we need to talk to Michael about some kind of legal action.’
‘How is that going to help? She can’t be locked up … And wherever she goes, if she has access to a telephone, that’s enough to make my life a misery.’
‘Let me ask Michael about it.’
Alistair nodded, his eyes fatigued. He drained the last of his beer.
‘At least come for supper,’ said Neil. ‘Your mother’s made enough bolognaise to feed the whole district.’
‘I don’t think so, Dad. I’m not hungry tonight. Don’t tell Mum about the calls carrying on – I don’t want her to worry more.’
‘I tell your mother everything, and then we both worry about it. That’s just the way it is.’ Neil hauled himself out of the deep chair, calling Jim Beam to follow him. Alistair could hear the little dog’s claws skitter on the wooden floorboards.
He stared at the darkening view, the rock faces paling from orange to beige to ghostly grey. A baboon up in the cliffs barked a warning to something, its shout in the dark raising the hairs on Alistair’s arms.
The ringing phone startled him. He sighed and then moved to answer it.
‘I see it now,’ the whisper rasped across the line. ‘It was you and your whore. You killed my little girl. The slut wanted my girl out the way.’
‘Esme, stop it! It was eight years ago. It was a horrible accident, but it’s over. You need to let Marilie go.’
The whisper became reedy: ‘I will never let this go until you pay for what you did! You murdered my beautiful girl and nobody will listen, not even Karl.’ Her breath hitched in a sob. ‘It’s time I stop asking other people for justice. I’ve waited too long. You took my girl. Now I’m going to take yours.’
‘Esme! Stop this madness!’
But the line was dead.
Alistair dialled Hannah’s house. The phone was engaged, and her cellphone went straight to voicemail. He dialled Karl, and his phone rang and rang.
No, no, no. This can’t be happening. Alistair raced through to the kitchen, sliding his keys from the counter and leaving the kitchen door open behind him as he sprinted for his pickup.
‘Joseph?’ he shouted as he ran, but the shed was quiet.
The familiar road seemed ten times longer than usual, and he pushed the accelerator to the floor. When he pulled up at Hannah’s house, he threw the gate wide to clang against the fence, bounded up the stairs, and hammered on the French door. ‘Hannah? Hannah?’
She came through with her hair wet on her shoulders, dressed in cotton pyjama trousers and a vest. She unlocked the door, anxiety drawing her brows down. ‘What’s happened? Are you okay?’
He pushed past her and went straight through to the phone in her passage, barking at her. ‘Why is your phone off the hook?’ Fear had turned to fury which coiled his insides.
‘Why are you so angry? I took it off the hook earlier. I’ve been getting strange calls.’
His hands curled into fists at his sides. ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘You haven’t been around. I assumed you didn’t want to see me.’
He pushed his hand into his hair, watching her fold her arms across her chest in defence.
‘Sorry …’
Hannah moved to him and pulled his hand, leading him into the little lounge where she pushed him into the couch. ‘Stay there.’ She returned with two mugs and curled onto the end of the couch. He gripped both hands around the mug and sipped the sweet foamy Milo, thinking of his mum making it for him when he was a boy.
Hannah smiled hesitantly at him. ‘My mum used to make this for me when I was little – one of the few motherly things she used to do.’
‘Mine too.’
Hannah reached across, laying her hand lightly on his arm. ‘Alistair, what happened tonight?’
He put his mug on the coffee table. ‘It’s Esme. She’s been calling me too, silent calls, but I knew it was her. She did this before. And then tonight she called and told me she was going to get even. That I killed Marilie and nobody would believe her. That she was going to take it into her own hands. She threatened you, Hannah, and I panicked. Sorry I frightened you.’ Hannah’s brows drew down but there was no fear in her eyes, just concern.
‘Something needs to be done about her now, Alistair.’
‘I know. My dad said the same thing earlier today.’
‘I don’t know what, but I think it’s gone beyond everyone tolerating and excusing her behaviour. Poor Karl – I feel so awful for him; it will be up to him to manage this. He’ll be devastated when he hears what she’s said. Maybe there’s medication which can help her or time in a psychiatric clinic?’
Alistair leant his head back on the couch and stared at the ceiling. ‘We have to actually be proactive though, no more sitting around because if someone …’ He turned his head to the side and looked directly at Hannah, the thought of Esme’s poison chasing her away doubling his stomach into a knot. ‘If I let her get to you, I would never forgive myself.’
‘You don’t think she would physically try to hurt us, do you?’
He shook his head. ‘No, I don’t. She’s always done things remotely, over the phone or in the press, stuff like that. But I would hate for her to sabotage you in some way.’
‘She and Todd should team up,’ said Hannah, slumping back into the couch, holding her mug on her stomach. Alistair’s gaze still rested on her.
‘I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you about him, Alistair. I meant to a few times and then I just didn’t want to bring him into my life here – I didn’t want to contaminate wh
at feels like a fresh start.’
‘What happened with the two of you?’
She sighed. ‘We got together in the first semester of university. I was bowled along with his life from there, never stopping to think about what I really wanted. I followed him to London, and then I came home with him because he wanted to pursue a career in politics. We got engaged because it looked better than just shacking up.’ Hannah raised cool eyes to his. ‘Looked better for his career, I mean. I don’t think he ever intended marrying me. I found out the same year that he was sleeping with someone else. I don’t know how many affairs he had had before her. I left him then.’ She paused. ‘He asked me to come back to him. Said we’d figure out an open relationship and – this is the worst part – I actually thought about it! I couldn’t get any lower. I withdrew. Hated myself for being so pathetic for so long. And that was it – until a few weeks ago when he turned up at the shop and wanted me to leave Leliehoek.’
‘Because you were getting up his nose?’
She nodded and Alistair shook his head. ‘What an arrogant prick.’
Hannah smiled, clearly appreciating his summation of Todd. ‘I’m sorry I hurt you, Alistair.’
He shook his head again. ‘When I said the ball was in your court, I thought you had never considered marriage before, and just needed some time to think – and a bit of pressure maybe.’ He gave a small smile. ‘And then I find out you were engaged … that you had wanted to marry someone once. You said yes before. And maybe now the problem was me. That’s why I stayed away. I was waiting for you to come and explain. And you didn’t.’
‘I’m sorry.’ She put her mug down and leant towards him, taking his face in her hands and turning him to her, her mouth meeting his in a soft kiss. Her damp hair swung around his face as his mouth opened, and his hands stroked up her back to pull her hair into one fist as his lips moved down her throat, kissing the spot gently where he had bruised her before.
Alistair tightened his grip around her, and he slid her down onto the couch under him, his body pressing her into the cushions and his breath coming faster. He slid one strap of her vest down her arm, the scent of vanilla strong in his nostrils. His mouth explored hers again, and then travelled across her collarbone, his tongue tasting the freshness of her just-showered skin. Hannah gasped and she adjusted, shifting her legs apart to cradle his body. Then he placed a soft kiss on the top of her breast, and laid his head on her chest, his breath still short, heart drumming against hers.
‘I haven’t changed my mind, Hannah. Unless this is for the long haul, I’m not going to sleep with you, no matter how much I want to. And I do.’
‘Alistair, I don’t know. I’m not—’
‘Then I should probably go home.’ But he stayed where he was.
She struggled to sit up, and he shifted off her.
‘Maybe you should go,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to fight. Not tonight.’
‘I don’t want to leave you here. Come back to the farm. You can stay at my mother’s.’
‘No, Alistair. I have an early start in the shop. I’ll be fine.’
‘Let me stay here.’
‘You really think you’ll stay on the couch?’ She cocked one brow. ‘Look, I don’t mind. In fact, I’d relish you in my bed, but I don’t want you to regret it in the morning.’
‘I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t regret it.’ He smiled at her, rubbing a hand over his face. ‘You’re right. There’s no way I could lie here with you in the next room. Damn my principles!’
She laughed. ‘I really will be fine. I’ll lock up and Joseph will probably come back here tonight anyway. He took the team to that new pub just out of town.’
Alistair went from room to room, checking the windows, and then picked up his keys. She walked him to the kitchen and he waited on the deck while she locked the door behind him.
He hesitated before turning the key in the ignition. Was he really giving up a night with Hannah?
He laid his forehead on the steering wheel. It would be so easy to knock on the door again. She’d let him in, smiling wryly, and he’d be lost. Really lost. Alistair knocked his forehead gently on the wheel and then sat up, turning the key and pushing the gear stick into first, before he could change his mind.
Kathryn ran a drying cloth over the white dinner plate, and slid it onto the wooden rack above her sink. She took a sip from her glass of wine. The house was quiet. She had a few minutes before her favourite home improvement show began. Some over-the-top renovating drama was exactly what she needed at the end of her day. She had pulled the plug and wiped the sink when she heard Matthew’s little voice from the doorway: ‘Mama?’
‘Sweetheart, why are you awake?’ Kathryn turned and saw her son, drowsy in the bright kitchen, his hair tousled and little face confused.
‘Mama? The lady at the door said—’
‘What lady at the door?’ She pushed past Matthew and looked down the passage, but the door was locked, as she had left it. She turned back to Matthew, a frown creasing her brow as she knelt in front of him. ‘Matthew,’ she said, looking into his sleepy face, ‘what lady? Did you have a dream, baby?’
He lifted puzzled eyes to her. ‘She was at the door and she spoke Afrikaans like Ouma. She said, “Tell your mama that Hannah needs help.”’
Kathryn’s hands clenched on his arms. ‘What did she look like, Matthew?’
Her blood ran cold as he answered, ‘Mama, she was at the door. She had a long dress and a white dolly bonnet.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Hannah padded through the dark kitchen and took a glass from the drying rack. Alistair was an enigma to her Todd-trained brain. She’d had sex with Todd a few days after they had met. Her seventeen-year-old-virgin self had been willing enough, and she had always enjoyed sex, but now she wondered if it hadn’t all been part of a pattern driven by what Todd wanted. Always what Todd wanted. Would it ever have occurred to him to deprive himself to wait for Hannah to come to a decision? Her life had been driven by other people. How sad, she thought now, as she filled her glass from the tap. She glanced up, and swallowed a scream. Instead of her own reflection in the black glass, she saw the hollow face of Esme. Esme’s make-up had blurred in dark patches under dead eyes, and her hair, normally so sculpted, was flattened on one side, as if she had awoken from a deep sleep. Hannah’s scalp crawled. Esme’s gaze slid from hers and she moved sideways to the door, trying the door handle slowly. Hannah was rooted in shock. Esme lifted a handgun, large and ugly in her tiny white hand, and smashed a pane of glass in the door. Pushing her left hand through the shards, she slid the bolt open from the inside, her skin shredding into strips.
Hannah dropped down to the floor, her blood thumping in her ears, and crawled behind the kitchen table. Esme stepped through the kitchen door, her stringy arm white and strong in the half-light, raising the gun. The bullet, fired at where Hannah had been standing at the sink, splintered wood and glass. It cracked in Hannah’s eardrums as she hid in the shadow of the table, not wanting to chance the gap into the passage. Another shot reverberated. The bullet struck the table above Hannah’s head, exploding a vase on the tabletop. Water and shredded flowers sprayed across the kitchen. Hannah knew she had to move or die. She scrambled from her cover as Esme fired a third round. Hannah felt the force of the bullet like a baseball bat. Her leg collapsed beneath her as she reached the passage, her brain just registering a weight she had to pull to drag herself from the room. Flattening herself against the passage wall, she crouched down to pick up the heavy iron doorstop. She felt the world slow down. Motion seemed suspended to a slow, flashing flicker. It danced beneath a strobe light. The floorboards in the kitchen shifted and squeaked as Esme crossed the room towards her.
Hannah’s senses, opening wide, tracked Esme’s movement coming closer. A pungent waft of musky perfume hit Hannah’s nostrils as Esme stepped through the door, and Hannah reared up, smashing the iron into Esme’s kneecap. She heard the bone crack and shatter. With a
tortured shriek, Esme’s skull-like face contorted with pain. Her leg gave way and she crashed into the wall, the gun clattering to the floor and skidding away. Hannah collapsed, the iron gripped in her hands. The gun lay down the passage, a few metres looking like miles as Hannah’s leg pulled downwards, a lead weight. Esme was curled into a foetal position in the doorway. She sobbed such deep, wretched gasps, her body had become a shuddering wreck.
‘I can’t bear it any more.’ Esme’s body convulsed in shivers, her voice that of a child. ‘I can’t bear the pain anymore.’
Using the low bookcase, Hannah hauled herself onto the chair next to the phone. It rang before she could reach for it, Kathryn’s stricken voice on the other side.
‘Hannah, what’s happened?’
‘I need help, Kathryn. I’ve been shot.’
‘Stay on the line. Keep talking to me, Hannah. I’m calling for help on my cell.’
Hannah held the receiver to her ear. She could hear Kathryn on the other end giving directions to the shop. The sound of her voice drifted near and far, as if electric windows were moving up and down, blocking and revealing the sound. Pain began to throb. Boiling wax dropped on her thigh and stirred, driving and twisting into her flesh.
She glanced to the side, and realised with a thick slick of fear that Esme was gone from the doorway. Hannah didn’t know how long she had been sitting there, the gun still heavy in her hand.
‘Kathryn? I need to move. I’m putting the phone down.’
‘Hannah? Wait, stay where you—’
She shifted forwards in the chair and stood, all her weight on her left leg, the right now numb, pyjama pants slimy with blood. Leaning heavily on the wall, she pulled herself around the doorframe and raised the gun, pointing into the dimness of the kitchen.
At first, Hannah thought Esme had gone. Then she glimpsed a crumpled body lying on the far side of the table. Light reflected off a spreading pool of black on the floor. Hannah used the support of the counter and then the backs of the chairs to get around the table. Esme was motionless, the blood pooling under her head, a deep slice pumping blood from her throat. A black-stained shard of glass lay on her chest. Hannah dropped to one knee next to her and pressed her hand to the wound, applying as much pressure as she could.
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