“Please, I’m a barrister.”
“Yeah, yeah. Tell it to someone who’s impressed.”
“You’re not?”
She looked up at her and answered honestly. “Terribly.” She pushed a lock of hair behind Imogen’s ear. “I wish you could be too.”
“I’m impressed by you. All this,” she said, indicating the room with a twist of her finger, “only makes you more remarkable. Now, enough with the mutual appreciation society. We need to know what’s going on here and why your mother thinks I’ve had your brother kidnapped or whatever. Do you want to take the bathroom or the kitchen?”
She looked back through to the kitchen and realized there weren’t many more secrets it would be able to give up. “Bathroom.”
Imogen nodded and gave her a gentle push toward the door. “Have at it.”
The tiny room was quick to give up its bounty. The cabinet over the sink was a veritable treasure trove of pillboxes and medicine bottles. One name stood out amongst all the others. Combivirine. Her hands shook as she pulled open one of the bottles and tipped a few of the solid white pills into her palm.
She almost missed the sink in front of her as she vomited. She felt hands on her arms, then circles being rubbed over her back and knew it was Imogen.
“Are they—”
“Fake.” She held out the pills, then tossed them in the sink and turned on the tap. “As useful as water against HIV.”
“You didn’t know?”
Amahle shook her head. “Seems I’m the last to know anything in my family. It would appear they don’t trust me.”
“I’m not sure I agree with that. If he didn’t trust you, why would Sipho have wanted you at the hospital with him the other day?”
“Then why didn’t they tell me about this? Why keep it a secret from me? She said he’s been going out to get her medicine. Why didn’t they tell me?”
“If she went through official channels to get treatment, it would end up in the papers, wouldn’t it? Your mum, HIV.”
“Yes. No doubt.”
“Would it affect your career?”
“Probably.”
“Is it possible she’s getting treatment under a different name to avoid that?”
“You think she was trying to protect me?” Amahle shook her head. “You saw her out there. Do you really think she cares about protecting me or my career?”
“Maybe not. But I think Sipho does.”
Amahle shrugged. “Maybe.” She turned the bottle so Imogen could clearly see it all. “There’s no prescription label on any of these bottles.”
“Meaning?”
“They aren’t official.”
“Black market?”
“Looks like it.”
“She’s been buying her medication.”
“Looks that way.”
“Christ. I’m sorry.”
“What for?”
“About your mum.”
“I’m sorry about her too. Everything she said outside. All the lies. To you, to your father. She deliberately sabotaged your relationship with him.”
“And with you.”
“Yes, and ours, because of petty jealousy. If she hadn’t lied about Sipho being your father’s child you wouldn’t even be here now. You’d still be in England. You’d be safe.”
“And I wouldn’t be here with you.” She rubbed her hands down Amahle’s back.
Amahle looked up at her, and she could see clearly that there was more she wanted to say. Imogen did too. She wanted to tell her that none of it mattered and that they’d get through it all, and move on. She wanted to make promises she never had before and say something rash like “we’ll be fine,” or “we can work this all out,” or better yet, “I’ll always be here for you.” But Imogen bit her tongue. She wasn’t naive. She wasn’t foolish enough to think that a few words could put everything right. No matter how much she wished. It appeared Amahle felt the same.
Amahle sighed. “I need to find a doctor. One I can trust to get her proper treatment.” She tossed the package on the bed. “Not this shit.”
“We also need to figure out where Sipho is. For her to confront us like that she must be concerned. Does he still live here, with her?”
“No. Your dad gave him his own place years ago.”
“Show me?”
Amahle tucked the blanket under Mbali’s chin and kissed her forehead, whispering words too quiet for Imogen to hear before she led her out of the house and across the small dirt yard. Sipho’s home was the complete opposite of his mother’s. Walls had been freshly lime washed, there was a single cup and bowl on the sink drainer, the curtains were clean and open, and the fridge was well stocked. But there was no sign of Sipho. The bed was made, clothes hung in his wardrobe and lay neatly folded in his drawers, and his shoes were lined in a long neat line along the wall under the window.
“Do you notice anything out of place or missing?”
“I haven’t been in here in years,” Amahle said.” I couldn’t tell you. It looks like he always kept things when he was a kid though. He was always neat and tidy.”
“Just like you.”
Amahle shrugged.
“Can you try calling him? I’ll find one of the guys and try to figure out when he was last here.”
Amahle pulled her phone from her bag. Imogen went back outside, instructing Greg to stay with Amahle. It took her a good five minutes to find someone, but she was quickly able to ascertain that Sipho hadn’t been seen for three days. She wished she knew if that was as unusual as the man told her it was. Amahle was sitting on the sofa looking through a small address book when she arrived back to the house.
“No answer on his phone. But I found this.”
She perched on the arm and looked over Amahle’s shoulder. “Anything interesting?”
“I wish I knew. There’s nothing under ‘if I go missing try this number’ though.”
“Funny. Want to take this to our friendly police general?”
“Not sure that’s a good idea.”
“Does he ever go off on his own for a while?”
“Never. He’s always stayed close to Mama. Only ever going beyond Cape Town if it was on business for the vineyard.”
“And that’s not happening now or I’d know about it.”
“Or the guys on the yard.”
“True. No one’s seen him for three days.” She bit on her thumbnail. “Does he have a girlfriend? Someone he might have wanted to hole up with?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Maybe we should ask—”
Josh walked in. “I’ve been talking to a few of the hands around here. It seems Sipho has no girlfriend at the moment, no real friends off the yard that anyone seems to know about either. One of the younger boys said that he hated going into town because he was looked down on. He got into fights with the locals about the way they spoke of his mother and sister, and it was rather fractious between them.” He indicated his head out the window. “They all said that this place was his life.”
“What do you mean fights over his mum and Amahle?” Imogen asked him.
“They mocked him because I’m gay and our mother slept around,” Amahle said.
“I don’t understand.”
“His mother’s the village whore and I’m a dyke. They question his masculinity. The boys did it at school after Gogo died. She went wild for a while. Sipho took the brunt of their teasing and bullying. Your father taught him to box. He got to be pretty good at it too. It gave him confidence and helped him look after himself when the other boys decided that name calling wasn’t enough anymore.” She dropped her head. “I never meant to make his life more difficult.”
“That’s not your fault,” Imogen said.
“No? I haven’t exactly gone out of my way to make Sipho’s life easier in any way. And now he may have been kidnapped because of me.”
“Ami, that’s something you really don’t know. And besides, if that was the case they’d have been in touch before
now.” She shook Amahle’s hand and tried to make her look at her. When she stubbornly refused, she gripped her chin and turned Amahle’s face to hers. “Three days is a long time. If the man who’s been calling you had him, he’d have contacted you by now to taunt you if nothing else.” It was the only thing that made sense to her. The bastard had called with Thambo in the room, and the Maraises hadn’t been hidden. They had established a pattern of leaving their destruction plainly visible to increase the threat against Amahle. Taking her brother only made sense if they intended to use him to further increase that fear. Some form of display, a call, a ransom, anything but silence.
“Then where is he?”
“I don’t know. I think we have to report him missing to the police and see if our team here can turn anything up.”
“They have enough to do, and I wouldn’t trust our Major General Pugh to find ice in Antarctica for me.”
“Then we go and report him missing the normal way. By walking into a police station.”
“And we bring in more people, ma’am,” Josh said. “Whatever it takes to get the job done. We don’t let people down. Wherever he is, we’ll find him.”
Imogen smiled. The confidence in his voice was reassuring, comforting even. She chose to ignore the fact that he made no promise as to what condition Sipho would be in when they located him. After three days missing, she didn’t want to think about the possibilities.
Chapter Thirty-three
Amahle plucked the photograph out of the frame and stared at it. Why didn’t you tell me, Sipho? I could’ve helped.
There was nothing but questions running through Amahle’s head. Questions she had no answers to, and likely never would in some cases. Every time she thought she knew the worst thing about the whole situation, something else happened to drag her down to another level of hell. And this time it had become more personal than she could have ever imagined. If she were totally honest with herself, she wasn’t entirely surprised that her mother had contracted HIV. She’d been sleeping around, unprotected, Amahle was sure, at a time when HIV was spreading through communities like wildfire. No, that wasn’t so much of a shock. What was a shock was them not telling her. And why would Sipho get her drugs off the black market? Why not go to a clinic? This was their mother’s life they were talking about. So what if it had an impact on her career? So what if it made her life more difficult and made people question her motives? So what if people thought she’d only campaigned for the programme because of her mother? She knew the truth, and whatever her motivation it was still the right thing to do. It was still what was needed. And her mother’s condition would not have stopped her from continuing her work. Even if it might have impacted upon her success.
Was Imogen right? Were they trying to protect her? She snorted a bitter laugh. Her mother hadn’t protected her from anything. Ever. Why the hell would she start now? No, she wasn’t trying to protect her. But Sipho? Amahle ran her finger down the photograph as though caressing his cheek. That she could actually believe. But surely he could see that this wasn’t going to work. His resources were finite. One day, probably far too soon, his money would run out and he’d—
“Shit.”
“What are you doing?” Mbali snarled from behind her.
“I need this.” She held up the picture and slipped it into her bag. Ignoring her mother’s tone.
“Why?”
“The police will want one when I report Sipho missing.”
“You don’t need the police. Ask that white bitch you were holding hands with.”
“I refuse to go into that with you, Mama. Imogen hasn’t done anything wrong. If I were you I’d apologize to her and hope she doesn’t throw you out on your ear.”
Mbali spat on the ground, showing exactly what she thought of that idea.
“Fine.” She slung the strap of her bag over her shoulder. “Where are you getting your medication from?”
“What are you talking about?”
Amahle stared at her mother. “Your medication? The pills? You told us you’d run out, that you were sick?”
Her mother scowled at her. “You’re lying.”
“Mama, we put you to bed a couple of hours ago. You drank yourself unconscious on morphine and told us that Sipho hadn’t come back with your meds. When was that? Where did he get them from? Who did he meet?”
“I don’t know what—”
“Stop. Just stop. No more lies. You’ve told enough. You’ve hurt enough people. Sipho is missing. Do you understand? He went out for your drugs, and no one has seen him since. Now where did he say he was going?”
Mbali shook her head. “You’re the one who is lying.”
“For Christ’s sake.” Amahle stormed passed her, grabbed pill bottles and boxes out of the bathroom, and dumped them onto the kitchen table. “Now enough. When did you last see him?”
“Thursday. He went out on Thursday morning. He said he’d be back with medicine.”
“Thank you. What was he wearing?”
“I don’t know.”
“You saw him. What was he wearing?”
“I don’t know. Jeans, maybe.” She wrung her hands in front of her. “Maybe a T-shirt.”
Amahle stared at her. “That’s it? That’s all you can give me?”
“What more do you want?”
“What colour T-shirt would be a start. What kind of shoes. Maybe a coat, or jacket? Did he have a hat on?”
“I don’t remember.”
“This is important, Mother.”
“I was high.” She dropped down into the nearest chair, seemingly unmindful of the junk she had sat on. “I was in pain so I had taken my morphine. It wasn’t helping enough, so I kept taking more.” She rubbed at the seam on her skirt. The same spot over and over again. “Before I knew it, it was all gone and I needed more.”
“So that’s why you stole it from the house.”
She sucked her lip through her teeth. “He’s already dead. He doesn’t need it.” She slapped her chest. “I do. I’m in pain.”
“Aren’t we all?” Amahle ran her hand over her face. “Do you know who Sipho got your medication from?”
“No.”
“Really? This could be important. That person could know where Sipho is.”
“I have no idea. All I know is that Sipho promised to take care of it all. He promised to take care of me.”
“Why didn’t you go to the clinic?”
“Do you know what they say about people like me?”
Amahle sighed. Unfortunately, she knew all too well the spurious insults that were levelled at many sufferers of HIV. The sad fact of the matter was that it was women like her mother who earned them those insults. “I’m aware.”
“Then why would I go there?”
“To get treatment.”
“I got everything I needed without having to step foot inside those doors. As soon as that doctor told me.” She waved her hands as she spoke. “I haven’t stepped foot back in there since.”
“And when was that?”
“Six years ago.”
“Why didn’t Sipho make you go to the clinic?”
“I told him I didn’t want to go there. He said okay. He would take care of me.”
She realized that she would get nothing more from her mother. She didn’t know her own son, she didn’t know his reasons, only what she chose to believe of his actions. But Amahle knew him better. She knew he’d have a reason, a real one, to justify abiding by her mother’s wishes. She just hoped he hadn’t done all this for her. This wasn’t something she wanted to be responsible for. She had enough guilt to shoulder.
A knock on the doorframe jolted her from her musings.
“You ready to go to the police station?” Imogen asked. “I know it’s been three days, but the sooner we get this done, the better.”
“Yeah, I know. I just seem to be having a little trouble making myself believe he’s really missing.” She shrugged. “I don’t want to believe it.”
>
“Get out of my house.”
Amahle watched as Imogen’s jaw worked as she seemingly fought down whatever it was she wanted to say. Amahle was pleased to avoid another confrontation between the two of them, but she wasn’t sure she’d have been able to bite her tongue if their situations had been reversed. Mbali had earned Imogen’s rancour, and it told Amahle a great deal of Imogen’s character that she refused to be baited.
“Greg’s got the car so we can go straight from here. Everyone’s waiting.”
“Thank you. I’ll be there in just a minute.”
Imogen nodded and closed the door behind her.
“And good riddance.”
“Mother, enough. I don’t know how much you remember of earlier, but you told us both everything. We both know what you did, and why. We know about all the lies. So drop the attitude and hope she lets you stay.”
“That girl is nothing but trouble. Always was.”
“You have no room to talk.” Amahle let the door slam behind her and climbed into the car. Imogen took her hand and squeezed gently as she sat down, offering her silent support. Amahle was grateful she hadn’t had to ask for it, as she wasn’t sure she’d have been able to. The last time she’d been inside a police station had been to make her statement after the attack on Grace and herself.
Unable to find a parking spot on the street nearby, Josh decided he would drop the rest of them outside the gate and wait with the car until they called for him to return to get them. Laura was the first one out when he stopped, and she pulled the door open for Amahle even as she looked to be scanning the vicinity and looking everywhere but at the car. Imogen followed her, with Greg and Nick taking up positions on either side of her. One great big protective cuddle. Not.
The police officer behind the reception desk eyed them warily as they approached. He was a big guy, maybe six-three, with hugely muscled shoulders and hands the size of shovels.
“How’s it? What can I do for you all this fine Sunday evening?” He clasped his hand on the desk and leaned on his elbows.
“I have to report a missing person, Officer.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Minister. How long has the person been missing?”
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