Hear Me

by Julia North

  ‘This constable would like to ask you a few questions, Mr Mannering. Please have a seat.’

  The nurse eases George down onto the remaining spare wooden seat and stands resting his hand on George’s shoulder. George’s left eye twitches and a small rivulet of saliva dribbles down from his mouth. His tongue peeks in and out as if he’s trying to catch a fly. I shiver with distaste. He places his trembling hands in his lap while his eyes continue to flit from the superintendent to the constable and back again as if he’s watching a tennis match.

  The constable clears her throat and takes out a small notepad. ‘Mr Mannering, I believe you were a patient at Shaloma at the time that Miss Melissa Windsor was a patient there also?’

  George sits rigidly staring at her.

  ‘Is that correct?’

  ‘You must answer, Mr Mannering,’ says the superintendent. He leans in towards George, one hand resting on his fat thigh, and frowns intimidatingly at him.

  George’s eyes dart back to the constable before giving a curt nod.

  ‘You are aware that she is now deceased?’

  George’s left eye twitches madly at her words but he nods again.

  The constable studies him through narrow eyes for a few seconds. ‘Do you have any idea what caused her death?’ she asks in a slow, measured tone.

  George’s eyes widen and his tongue stops halfway out of his mouth. He sits frozen before answering in a voice barely above a whisper, ‘She was drinking again.’

  The constable continues to stare at him before pulling down her mouth and leaning in towards George. ‘Did you have anything to do with her death, Mr Mannering?’

  George’s head jerks back. ‘No … no, no …’ he croaks. His mouth drops open and his tongue flops forward as he shakes his head from side to side likes he’s in a trance. ‘No … she died from drinking. She died from drinking. That’s what they said. She died from drinking.’ He continues to repeat the words, the pitch of his voice rising until he jumps up from the chair and screams, ‘Why are you asking me this … why?’

  The superintendent motions with his eyes for the nurse to take George away. George begins to scream and squirm. The second nurse rushes in and they manhandle the writhing body of George to his feet and drag him out of the office with the high pitch of his scream still heard. Both the superintendent’s and the constable’s faces wrinkle with distaste. The screaming comes to an abrupt halt. The constable and superintendent exchange a look of relief.

  ‘Ja, well, sorry. I don’t think that was much help,’ says the superintendent pushing back his chair. ‘Maybe you must wait a few weeks till we stabilise him. The psychiatrist will be here later and I’ll talk to him about this.’

  The constable sits for a few seconds with an expression of deep thought across her face. ‘Ja, maybe that’s best. Thank you for your time, Superintendent.’

  ‘Agh, no problem,’ says the superintendent, leering down at her again. ‘Come, I’ll show you out.’

  I follow behind as they pace back down the corridor. George certainly doesn’t look good and it’s obvious he’d never be deemed fit enough to go to court. Karlos certainly choose his pawn well.

  Chapter 40

  I’m on the steps leading down to the Wimpy Bar in Murchies Passage in the centre of Durban. It was a notorious hang-out for drug addicts in my youth. It’s where Angie and I used to come on Saturday mornings to score weed. Poor Mom, she would have freaked if she’d known. I look around the crowded eating area and wonder why I’m here. It’s packed, and the new South Africa is evident from the mix of race groups, everyone relaxed and happy as if we’ve always been integrated rather than forced apart. Thank God for Mandela and his new ‘rainbow nation’.

  The air is thick with the smell of grilled beef and fried onions. The aroma brings back teenage memories of Angie and I thinking we were so cool and hanging out in a place notorious for addicts trying to score. Heroin didn’t seem to be around then. Given the types who used to hang out here, I guess I’m lucky I only tried weed. Rat slinks back into my mind. He had a peaked nose and thin face, pockmarked and pale just like George’s and he was just as repulsive, probably psychotic, too, for all I knew. I was only fifteen and he must’ve been well into his twenties, but still he was after my body. He used to call out ‘Howzit chickies’ to me and Angie, and call us over to score. As soon as we got close he’d be feeling my arse and breathing his weed stench in my face. If it wasn’t for Angie wanting to score weed I’d never have even gone anywhere near him. Just feeling his hands on me left me feeling so dirty. The memory brings the sickly sweet smell of the weed alive in my nostrils. I really didn’t have the best luck in attracting men. The ugly ones who went for me were just as vile as the good-looking ones.

  No-one in Wimpy reacts to my presence and as I walk between the crowded tables I see Karlos facing me from a kiosk in the far corner, his bearded face and bulk unmistakable. The woman he’s with has her back to me but it’s definitely Nat. I’d know my sister anywhere. The two of them are deep in conversation. I stare for a few seconds before striding towards them. I’m tempted to sit down next to Karlos with the hope that somehow he’ll sense my presence and realise I’m still here and coming after him. But it’s me who baulks as his familiar smell reignites my pain at the whole sorry saga. I clench both my fists and close my eyes for a brief second. Standing here, knowing what I know and thinking back to the whole façade of our relationship, is harder than I thought. I look down at the glass ashtray on the table between them. If I was able to pick it up I think I’d smash it over his head.

  ‘Agh, I don’t believe this. You really think she was murdered?’

  Nat bites her bottom lip and keeps her eyes down. Her fingers fiddle with the edge of her navy blazer. ‘It looks that way?’

  ‘But why didn’t you phone and tell me? I thought the hospital said she had heart failure?’ Karlos’ face is pale and I see him clench his fist against his thigh. I’m not sure whether he’s worried that his eight hundred thousand rand inheritance is going to be put on hold, or perhaps it’s because there’s a small well of fear that he could be seen as a suspect? ‘Did they do tests at the hospital after she died?’

  Nat shakes her head. ‘Not that I know of. Maybe they should’ve done some before she died.’

  Karlos’ eyes harden. ‘Why?’

  Nat shrugs. ‘I don’t know … just in case it wasn’t alcohol that did it.’

  ‘Agh, it could only be. Eunice found the empty whiskey bottle and the doctor said her pyjamas were smelling of booze.’

  ‘I know … but …’

  ‘There’s no but. Alcoholics are clever. They hide their drinking.’ Karlos leans towards Nat. ‘I know that because I’ve done it. Lissa did drink again. She just hid it from all of us. You just have to accept that. I don’t think there’s been any murder, Nat. I think you’re wrong.’

  Nat bites her bottom lip while Karlos continues to stare directly at her.

  ‘Maybe, but … I don’t know … something just doesn’t feel right.’ She meets Karlos’ stare. ‘Elsa thinks so, too.’

  Karlos blinks away and pulls down the side of his mouth. ‘Well, I think you’re both wrong. King Edward’s is a dump. It’s full of disease and incompetence. She should never have gone there. If she’d gone to Parklands it might have been different.’ He utters each word with a deliberate emphasis.

  Nat’s eyes cloud over. Bastard, he’s trying to use guilt now. He really doesn’t care how much hurt he inflicts.

  Nat’s voice breaks. ‘It still doesn’t explain the Trithapon on her file … Liss wasn’t psychotic … she wasn’t …’

  ‘Ja, well I agree that’s strange,’ says Karlos, leaning back against the chair but keeping his eyes fixed on Nat. ‘Have you told the police?’

  Nat swallows and nods. ‘Yes, they agree it doesn’t make sense, but there’s not enough evidence to point to George for anything.’ She shakes her head and brushes her hair behind her ear with shaky fingers. ‘Oh
, I don’t know … things just don’t seem right. They really don’t.’

  ‘That’s rubbish,’ says Karlos fiercely. ‘George is a fucking psychotic and we know now he was taking that Trithapon; of course he could’ve done something to Lissa.’ His fingers rest on his throat for a few seconds before pinching a small wave of its soft flesh between his thumb and forefinger and playing with it. I watch with a mix of revulsion and admiration as he leans back into the red leather bench seat and changes his pose to a Socratic one, his hand resting neatly under his chin, his eyes still fixed on Nat. She must feel the burn of his gaze because she begins to look uncomfortable and I see a pink flush mottle her cheeks. Karlos studies her for a few seconds longer before pursing his lips and leaning in across the table towards her. ‘You must tell the police to look properly into George.’

  Nat looks up at him and then blinks away. ‘The police have said they will.’

  ‘Anyone else they want to look at?’ Karlos’ tone is clipped, his jaw set and his shoulders stiff.

  Nat’s chest mottles. He’s intimidating her on purpose. Nat gives a small shake of her head and I see Karlos’ shoulders relax. He leans back against the seat again and lets out a low whistle. ‘Who’d have thought? I’m in shock, Nat. I can’t believe that you really think Liss was murdered and it wasn’t just the drinking, I really can’t. This makes it even worse to lose her. Shaloma should never have let George in. Agh, I don’t believe this. I really don’t.’ He gives a dramatic shake of his head and then falls silent, his eyes fixed on Nat’s downcast head.

  ‘We’ve no proof yet that it was definitely him,’ whispers Nat, still keeping her head down.

  ‘Ja, well why else would his medicine be on Lissa’s file. Agh, now I think about it, of course it’s him. These psychotics are clever bastards. He must’ve gone to Brinks’ office in the night and changed her file, all the time planning to kill her.’ Karlos shifts around on his seat so that the leather squeaks under him. ‘Liss always said he reminded her of a rook. I should’ve seen there was something shifty about him. Maybe he was already putting it in her food or tea at Shaloma, or maybe he somehow got into the house early that morning and injected her with it and then with the booze in her blood it made her fit like that?’

  ‘I still don’t understand why he’d want to do it,’ says Nat.

  ‘Agh, these psychotics don’t need a reason. They just take a hate for someone and then want to kill them.’ Karlos purses his lips together and shakes his head as if he can’t believe it. ‘Who would have thought, hey, Nat? You think it was him who tried to come with Hattie and Wolf to the hospital?’

  ‘I don’t know. Elsa is looking into things … I just don’t know.’

  Karlos gives his head a shake and wipes his hand across his eyes. ‘I miss her so much, you know, Nat. You have no idea how much.’ I watch fascinated as his eyes redden. He really is quite an actor. He suddenly holds his head in his hands and his shoulders shake as he emits a series of low sobs.

  Nat instinctively leans towards him. Her hand slides palm down across the table. ‘Me too,’ she croaks.

  I want so much to punch Karlos’ supercilious face until it’s nothing but a raw and bloody pulp, to claw his eyes out and hurt him as much as he’s hurt me and my family. My hands reach out for the heavy ashtray but pass right through it. Karlos continues looking wounded as Nat squeezes his hand. If only I could manifest right here and now and scare the shit right out of him. I throw my head back and give a low laugh. Imagine if he suddenly saw me standing here, looking straight at him with knowing eyes and threatening to haunt him for the rest of his days. He loves playing the bereaved partner and my poor sister is too naïve to notice. Karlos carries the evil gene in his cursed blood line, but we obviously carry the easily duped one.

  Karlos takes his hand away and scratches his chin. ‘I’m just thinking. Nic was stalking Lissa, you know. She told me. We even saw him when we were waiting in the election queue. I think you must tell Elsa that. Maybe you must look into him as well …’

  Nat’s eyebrows rise. ‘Liss never said anything. When was he stalking her?’

  ‘Agh, I think she saw him a few times. He fancied her, you know, was so jealous when we got together. I know he wanted to break us up. I don’t think we must rule him out. He could also have had some twisted hatred and want to kill Liss because she rejected him.’

  Nat bites down on her bottom lip. ‘You’re right. I’ll tell Elsa. We need to let Govender know about him. Do you know where he is now?’

  ‘Who’s Govender?’ says Karlos sharply.

  ‘The police inspector. He’s a friend of Thabo’s, but not very

  helpful.’

  Karlos moves his eyes to the ceiling as if deep in thought. ‘I think maybe you must tell this Govender that Nic has some family in Westville or somewhere out there. Helen should be able to help.’

  My anger becomes tinged with fear. Karlos is sucking her in. I can see the shade of suspicion fade from her eyes. Nat’s looking at him like an obedient spaniel, no doubt beating herself up for unfairly suspecting him. ‘Oh Nat, don’t let him reel you in by telling you what you need to allay your fears and doubts,’ I mouth. ‘Please don’t.’

  Deep inside I know with certainty that whatever shared memories I have still live in the synapses of Nat’s mind too, and Elsa’s. I think back to the three timeless Karoo hills who remained linked together despite all the external happenings, the storms, the bush fires and the human and animal destruction which stamps on their green shoots or chops down the living trees. God created life, a love energy which nothing can destroy. I move onto the bench seat beside Nat. She flinches and her nostrils twitch as I close my eyes and will us back into the shared forests of our past.

  Nat and I sit in silence on my couch. I take a slug of Chardonnay and stare morosely at the television which is blasting out the latest episode of Baywatch. ‘Maybe if I looked like Pamela Anderson Mike would’ve treated me differently,’ I say.

  ‘Oh, Liss, don’t be silly. He’s a fickle bastard who uses and abuses women for a hobby. Don’t take it personally. You’re much too good for him, you really are.’ Nat pats my hand. ‘Anyway you’re better looking than Pamela Anderson.’

  I pull a face. ‘No, I’m not.’ I fight back the tears which rise up from nowhere, but it’s too late; they break through and trickle down my cheeks. Sobs rise and all my sorrow tumbles out. I plonk down my glass and rest my head in my hands.

  ‘I’m so sorry, I really am,’ croons Nat. She puts her arm around me and rubs her hand up and down my back before patting it. I lean into her and sob like a child for what seems like ages. Nat takes some tissues out of her bag and hands them to me. I wipe my eyes while my sobs shudder to a stop.

  ‘I’m sorry I didn’t mean to let it all hang out. I just can’t believe how gullible I’ve been. I really can’t.’

  ‘We can all be gullible at times, Liss. Don’t blame yourself.’

  ‘I was such an idiot. He kept telling me how hot I was … said he loved me; he even brought me Chanel.’ I let out a wry laugh. ‘I was secretly hoping for a ring next.’

  ‘People are very good at wearing masks and it’s hard to tell sometimes. I’ve done it myself plenty times.’

  ‘Not with guys you haven’t.’

  ‘No, but I’ve had lots of so-called friends in the theatre world who turned out to be back stabbers. I’m trying to read people better and I’m sure when the next guy comes along you will, too.’

  I turn to Nat with a droll smile. ‘I hope so … I really do, but I wouldn’t count on it.’

  The shared memory dissolves. Nat’s head jerks back and she rapidly blinks her eyes. At last I’ve found a way to communicate. I can will myself back into our shared memories and take my sisters with me. I need Nat to make a connection between Karlos and that memory. I need her to see that he’s just putting on a false front.

  ‘Please make the connection,’ I urge her silently. ‘Please.’

  I
look back at Karlos. He’s leaning across the table, staring intently at Nat. ‘You okay? What happened? You looked like you were in some kind of trance.’

  Nat swallows. Her nostrils flare as she touches the empty seat next to her and moves her fingers through me onto the warm leather. She swallows again and wipes her sweaty palms against her jeans. She’s sensed me. I’m sure she has and she can obviously feel the warmth of where I’m sitting. I’m sure she can feel my energy. It’s clear from her shaken state that the memory’s been vivid enough to make her think. I bet she’s replaying it frame by frame in her mind right now, I’m sure of it. Please God, let her have understood.

  ‘I … uh … just felt dizzy. I’m okay now.’ Nat fumbles at her handbag and clicks it open. She hurriedly takes out a twenty rand note, but Karlos motions it away.

  ‘I’ll get this,’ he says, his eyes cemented to her face. ‘You just look after yourself and let me know what the police say. If they don’t get her killer, I will. I promise you that.’

  Nat nods while Karlos narrows his eyes in classic vigilante style. My poor sister’s bottom lip trembles as she looks him. ‘I need to go …’

  Karlos shifts to the end of the bench seat and stands to give Nat a hug. She stands stiffly without returning it, before shoving on her sunglasses and pushing her way out of the Wimpy.

  Chapter 41

  Elsa sits stony-faced while Nat recounts what happened.

  ‘Do you think I’m just making a false connection?’ Nat says. ‘It was so real: I really felt like I’d left my body and gone back to that time. Liss was as real to me as you are now and it was almost like she was warning me not to trust him … I mean why would I suddenly have a memory like that at that moment … why?’

  Elsa fixes serious eyes on Nat’s face and they sit in silence for a few seconds before she answers. ‘Like I’ve said before, I think it’s stress and all the emotional turmoil you’ve been through, but I also think the fact we don’t like him possibly makes us more suspicious of him.’ She bites her lip and frowns. ‘I wish you hadn’t told him we suspect murder.’