Sex, Lies & Stellenbosch

by Eva Mazza

  “They’re both dead. Both of them have passed on,” she said. “They weren’t very nice about you, were they? If it’s any consolation, I was devastated my dad wouldn’t let me see you,” she said in a teasing voice, her heart beating overtime with excitement and surprise at her own daring.

  “I never did marry, Greek or otherwise,” he volunteered.

  “Oh, don’t talk rubbish! You want to tell me that Myron is incapable of luring a nice hot babe into his web?” She was keen to hear his answer.

  “No,” he said, with a hint of a Greek accent. “I never said that. I had a very long relationship and when I eventually decided to commit, it was too late. So, I’ve learnt a very hard lesson. Ah well, that’s life. You’re young and vain and want to stay single and then suddenly you find yourself old and alone.”

  “Well, at least you were honest and didn’t commit to something you knew you couldn’t keep to.”

  Myron searched her face. “Do I sense a bit of hostility and bitterness? Have you added to the divorce statistics, Jen?”

  God! He is an Adonis! Jen steered her thoughts back to the conversation. “No. Not yet. But I really don’t want to talk about my personal crap. I’ve spent the whole bloody morning wallowing in self-pity and I have the whole afternoon of the same to look forward to. I’m hijacking your table, whether you want me to or not. I just hope the lady you’re meeting will enjoy our company.”

  She grinned and as he grabbed her hand and kissed it, she saw Claudia through the crowd. She lifted her other arm to wave.

  “There you are!” Claudia grabbed a stool and plonked herself down. “I got you the smoked chicken and herb sandwich, I hope it’s all right. I don’t have much time for lunch, so I thought I’d get our food to save time. Pardon me,” Claudia said, noticing Myron. “I’m Claudia.”

  She looked at Jen and grinned, her brows lifted as if to say, Already picking up men?

  “Claudia, this is an old school friend of mine. His name is Myron.”

  “Are you Myron Christofoulo?” Myron had taken his last bite of his sandwich and all he could manage was a nod. “My boyfriend has spoken a lot about you.”

  Myron leaned back as if to take Claudia in better. He wiped his mouth on his serviette then crumpled it into a ball. “Ah, you are Leonard’s partner. I have heard only good things about you.”

  “Well, isn’t that uncanny? What a damn tiny place this world is!” Claudia turned to Jen. “Myron and Leonard are business associates and often cycle together. Is this your table?” Claudia asked Myron. “Because it seems you have company.” She smiled at Jen. “Did you just steal Myron's table?” Jen shrugged back at her friend, beaming.

  “Yes, it is...it was. But I have to go. It was lovely meeting you, Claudia. And Jen, it was great to see you after all these years.” He got up from his stool. “Maybe we can do coffee and a proper catch-up sometime. If you’re okay with it; if it’s not inappropriate.”

  “I’m sure she’d love to,” Claudia answered for her.

  “What’s your number?” Jen asked. “I’ll quickly dial you and then you can save it on your phone.”

  Myron gave her his number, and when Jen dialled it, he answered clownishly, “Hello. Maybe I’ll see you again soon.”

  He gave her two strong pecks on each cheek and one on the lips, “For good measure. It was lovely to see you after so many years, Jen.”

  As they watched him walk away, Claudia commented, “Wow! You really showed restraint there. No ‘I’ll have to think about it’, just a quick ‘give me your number’. You’re a skank, Jen Pearce.”

  Jen blushed. “Oh no, is that how I came across? That wasn’t my intention,” she said as she saved Myron’s number to her contacts.

  Claudia teased, “You’re such a bad liar. Speaking about lies and truths, how has your consultation been? Have you warmed to Sharon or does she scare you?”

  Jen recounted her morning with Sharon and how she had been ready to walk out, but that there had been a breakthrough moment. She also told her that her appointment with Leonard had been rescheduled, as Sharon needed more time with her.

  “I know. Listen, Jen, Leonard asked me to give you this envelope.” She reached down into her lawyer’s bag to retrieve a brown envelope. “It arrived at his offices. He doesn’t know who sent it,” she said as she handed it to Jen. “He was hoping to give it to you at your consultation with him today, but you’d postponed. He thinks that maybe you should take a look at it today, with Sharon around.”

  Intrigued, Jen was about to open the envelope when Claudia stopped her. “No, don’t do it now. I don’t know what’s in it and neither do you.”

  Claudia scoffed down her sandwich, gave Jen a peck on the cheek and told her to call her after her session. She had to run as she was appearing in court.

  Jen was deep in thought as she finished her lunch, wondering what the envelope contained. Whatever it was, it was sandwiched between two hard boards, and she couldn’t resist peeking. She opened the seal and separated the two cards, gingerly pulling out a photograph. It was of John kissing a stranger – a French kiss, for want of a better word. His tongue was deep in a woman’s mouth and his hip pushed up against her groin. She slid it back inside the envelope and sealed it again. Her anger and shock dissipated as quickly as it had surfaced, and she grinned. Got you, you bastard! She was triumphant.

  Two men approached her table and asked whether she minded them joining her. “Not at all, I’m just about done. Go ahead.”

  “We were hoping that you’d stay.” Are they flirting, she wondered, or just being polite?

  “That’s sweet,” she smiled, “but I have to go. Enjoy your afternoon.”

  One of the men looked down at her cleavage and instinctively Jen held the envelope over her chest.

  “Stay. We’d love to get to know you better,” the one man said as he gently touched her wrist.

  Okay, she was being hit on (a phrase she had learnt from Pete). She rose to the occasion: “Well, boys, as much as I’d love to stay and chat,” she lowered the envelope and thrust out her chest as if to say look and weep, “I have to wrap my head around the fact that my husband is an adulterous prick.” The stranger jerked back his hand. She smiled, grabbed her bag and walked out of the shop. She began to laugh. Well if I don’t laugh, I’ll be suicidal, and John Pearce will never have that kind of a hold on me, ever.

  Clutching her evidence tightly against her chest, Jen pressed the button for the lift to the fourteenth floor of Sharon’s building. She had misjudged the distance to the sandwich shop and certainly wasn’t going to walk up fourteen flights of stairs. She felt relief. It was empowering to finally know, to have proof, that her husband was a fraud. She had spent twenty-four years admonishing herself for her doubts about him. All those years breastfeeding, rearing and running around her children. Now, for the first time, she had emerged from this haze, and the clarity with which she saw things made her brave and decisive, even excited, to change the course of her life.

  Twenty-four

  Patty had fallen asleep on the couch. Her phone beeped and she woke with a start. It was morning and Lee had not yet arrived. She checked the message that had come through. It was from John. “I should have the money in my account by tomorrow the latest. Text me the account number. John”

  She sent him the account details and checked her phone again for any missed calls. Nothing. Lee would have called her if he had changed his mind. She chided herself for having fallen asleep. Anyway, Lee was Lee. He came and went as he pleased. Who was she to question him or to worry about him? She would shower. It was no use, her sitting around waiting.

  After her shower, Patty checked her phone again, and again it yielded nothing. She knew he hated her fussing after him, but she was overcome with worry. It rang and then went to voicemail. By ten o’clock she could stand it no more. Usually he would check in with her by nine the latest. Bugger it, I know I’m not his wife or mother but… She phoned security at his work. “No, h
e hasn’t come in today.” She could try his house phone, but that would prove disastrous and Lee would be furious, so she dialled the police.

  “Has anyone reported an accident involving a Ferrari, or has anyone driving a Ferrari been arrested?” It wouldn’t be the first time he had been thrown into jail for speeding. Her call was placed on hold, and after what seemed an eternity, the officer was back on the line.

  “Ma’am,” he asked, “are you a relative of the deceased?” It took a while for her to process what she had just heard, but when she did, she grabbed the dining room table for support.

  “What!”

  The detective repeated himself. “I need to know your relationship with the deceased.”

  Her rapid breath made her practically inaudible. “Is. Lee. Dead?”

  “I’m sorry, Ma’am, I can’t disclose that until you tell me your relationship.”

  She knew Lee would laugh his head off when she retold this story to him. “You’ve just told me he’s deceased, you moron. You do know that deceased and dead are the same fucking thing?” Patty dropped the phone and fell to her knees. She opened her mouth to howl, but she was mute. Her world fell apart.

  Frans had texted John that the money would be in his account by close of day, and if not, by Thursday the latest. John hoped that Patty would have payment sooner rather than later – that he’d be able to put this debacle to bed, no matter how costly.

  He had woken up early that morning, knowing full well that he had to replace at least one person in sales. He raced up to the cellar, ready to face the day. He figured that good-looking sales reps were a dime a dozen. You’ve got to admit, you’ve been blinded by Patty. You’ll find someone easily. He wasn’t so sure whether Jen would approve of another babe near him, but he had to convince her that girls like Patty sold products. The business had to maintain the level of sales that Patty had obtained.

  He sent his ex-employee a cursory text demanding banking details before phoning Carina at Human Logic to find a placement for his company. She always had candidates on her books.

  “Monday morning, first thing,” John insisted. “And I want good-looking girls.”

  “John, quite frankly, I’m not a modelling agency. I work with candidates who qualify for the job. These women are well presented and come with good references.”

  Carina herself was a beautiful woman. He had seen her around town – broad smile, tall and well groomed. “Someone like you,” he flirted.

  She laughed.

  “You know what I mean,” he said.

  “I think I do. John, I’m going to be honest, these women are sales representatives. If this doesn’t suit you, don’t waste their time, or mine for that matter.”

  “Okay, okay. I just don’t want any old decrepit, that’s all I’m saying, or you’ll be wasting my time.”

  After ending the call, he sat behind his desk ready to begin his day. Gladys had come in with a tray of coffee and the newspaper.

  “Is Jen up, Gladys?” John asked. “She slept in the spare bedroom last night. She’s not feeling too good.” Why he felt he had to give Gladys an explanation, he didn’t quite know.

  “Jen’s not home,” Gladys answered, not able to look him in the eye. “She left early.”

  “Oh, of course. I forgot she said she was leaving early today,” he lied.

  Gladys began straightening up his unusually untidy office.

  “And Pete? He should have been here by now,” he said, plonking his empty coffee mug back on the tray. “He’s sleeping in, is he?”

  Gladys looked desperate. “Pete’s not in the cottage.”

  “Well, where is he?”

  She shrugged. “His bed is made and his cupboards are empty.”

  John pushed passed her and rushed from the cellar to Pete’s cottage. He yanked the door open. The kitchen was spotless. His bed had not been slept in and cupboard doors were wide open showing empty shelves and hanging rails. “What the fuck’s going on?” he yelled.

  Pete’s number went straight to voicemail. “Where the fuck are you, Pete? You cannot just leave me like this. Phone me when you get this message. I want you back on this farm by the end of today.” He slammed his phone down on the counter.

  “Gladys!” he yelled. She came running in. “Do you know what’s going on around here? ’Cause if you know anything I don’t know and you’re not telling me, I’m gonna lose my shit.”

  Gladys looked at him directly in the eyes this time. “I don’t know what’s going on. I’m just the maid.”

  The phone rang as Patty rocked backwards and forwards. It stopped and then rang again. She picked up the second time. It was the commanding officer of the police station. He kept asking if she could hear him and she kept whispering, “Yes”.

  “Ma’am, I’m terribly sorry that you had to learn about the death of… What is your relationship with the deceased?” he asked politely.

  Patty whispered back, “He is a good friend.”

  “The deceased is male, then? I’m sorry I have to ask you this, but the remains are so badly charred we were unable to determine the sex. We have obviously sent the body in for forensic testing to determine identity and whatnot.”

  Patty closed her eyes and rocked faster at the morbid details. “Maybe it isn’t him. Do you have a number plate?”

  “We couldn’t find the number plate of the car either. Everything was destroyed in the fire. It must’ve happened late last night or in the early hours of the morning, as the wreck was smouldering when we got to it. We were checking the list of Ferraris in the country, hoping we could find the owner or the driver, but fortunately you called.”

  Oh God, God, God, please, let it be someone else, please, please, please.

  “I need to go. I’m going to be sick.” Patty dropped the phone and ran to the bathroom.

  The phone was ringing when she returned to the dining room. She reluctantly answered. “Ma’am, are you all right? Would you like us to send someone to speak with you or can you answer questions telephonically? I know this is hard, Ma’am, but we need as much information as possible. It seems you are the only one who can assist us.”

  Patty spoke slowly. “Look, this is a very delicate situation. The deceased, Lee, is a friend of mine. No one needs to know that. In fact, it would upset his family, particularly his wife. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, Ma’am, I do. We will be as discreet as we possibly can, Miss…?”

  “You don’t need my surname, and if you need me, you have my number. You can phone me any time. Just as I won’t lodge a complaint about your officer disclosing personal information about Mr Holms before notifying his next of kin, you are not going to mention that I have any relationship with the deceased. Are we clear about this? I’m only giving you this information so that his next of kin can be notified as soon as possible.”

  “I understand. Could you tell me his name and where he resides?”

  Patty gave the policeman Lee’s full name and his details. She gave him Frankie’s telephone number and told him that Lee had a son, Clive, who lived in Rondebosch, near the university. She also explained that Lee had seemed distressed and had asked if he could spend the night at her place, which was why she had become worried about him.

  “This last bit of information his family need not know. Believe me when I tell you it is innocent, but also understand that it will not be construed as innocent, and surely Mr Holms’s family will be hurting enough?”

  Twenty-five

  Sharon was on the phone and gestured to Jen to come in. Jen sat down and pulled out the photograph again, studying it carefully. It awakened a new suspicion: she wondered if the ‘small op’ – the gynaecological procedure she’d had three years ago to remove atypical cells – related to her husband’s philandering? To make things even worse, her gynaecologist, a well-respected man in the community, was a family friend. Had he withheld the truth from her to protect his buddy?

  She resolved to march into his rooms and demand t
o see her file. She was not going to leave any stone unturned; if she had contracted an STI, she needed to know, even though she now was in the clear. This was not so much for vengeance as for the truth. For so long she had been careful to keep the truth from herself, and it was time to expose everything. It had become clear to her that she could not move forward if she didn’t.

  Sharon put down the phone and looked at her a while before she rose from her chair behind the desk.

  “That was Leonard. I see you have the envelope?”

  Her answer lay in Jen’s lap.

  “I’m sorry, Jen, but I’m pleased that you’re with me at this time. We can try to handle this together. How do you feel?”

  “Glad!” Jen said, before she realised what she was saying.

  “Oh! I thought you’d be angry, or hurt. Why glad?”

  Jen paused. Why was she glad? “I finally know the truth. John is an expert at covering his tracks. I’ve always had a feeling, but I’ve never wanted to probe. If I did upset the status quo, which was seldom, he would accuse me of mistrust, or ask me if I was having an affair.”

  Sharon looked up from her notebook. “That’s what guilty people do, they distrust their partners.”

  “Well, he made me doubt myself, and now I’m glad – glad that my misgivings are founded and that I’m no fool.”

  “Does this make your decision easier?”

  “Most definitely! Divorce. There is no other way. No long, protracted visits to marriage therapists to see if we can salvage anything, no questions as to my children and their wellbeing. Finally, there is evidence to prove that he has transgressed every boundary. Divorce is the only answer and I have no choice; there is no alternative.”

  “How so?” Sharon had moved from behind her desk. She opened the envelope Jen had placed on the coffee table. Jen spoke as Sharon studied the pictures. Her face remained neutral.