Sunstroke

by Madge Swindells

  Joy had everything ready: the bouquet, the veil, something borrowed and something blue – her garter, as it happened. Wolf couldn’t control his triumph, he looked tremendous in his top hat and tails, but I was panicking.

  Bernie took my arm and led me through the rose garden to the balcony, the organist struck up, the priest stepped forward and said the right words, and for a wild, silly moment, I considered saying, ‘No,’ but whispered, ‘I will,’ instead. Wolf slipped the ring on my finger and I found myself married before I’d had time to panic.

  When I signed the register, I discovered that I was now the Baroness Wolfgang von Schenk Moller. I don’t believe in titles, except for those that are earned, but I guessed I could keep mine hidden, as Wolf had.

  *

  That day we did everything in style. I flung my bouquet towards the clamouring bridesmaids, took off my garter and flung that, too, and we cut the cake after the first waltz.

  ‘I’m sorry there’s no photographer,’ Joy told me, when we had a moment to ourselves. ‘Wolf didn’t want photographs. He was most insistent.’

  ‘Oh, who cares, Joy? Everything’s perfect. You’ve been wonderful. Thank you.’ I flung my arms around her, surprising both of us. ‘Dear Joy. My dearest friend.’

  To my dismay, Joy burst into tears.

  Marriage to Wolf was a fairy story. I was pampered and loved, and nothing was ever too much trouble if it made me happy. Even pregnancy agreed with me, after my initial bout of morning sickness. As the months passed, I became lazier, more content and filled with joyous anticipation. I was so happy I felt guilty. What had I done to deserve this wondrous bounty? Wasn’t it all too perfect to be real?

  Chapter 23

  ‘Hey, Nina, where are you?’ Wolf called from the kitchen.

  ‘Out here.’

  I was sprawled in the sun by the pool, immersed in a local gardening book. Bugs were getting my roses. They were great ugly triangular things that looked and smelt disgusting. They sucked the moisture out of the stalks until the rosebuds withered and died. A whole new crop of roses had come to grief.

  ‘I’ve identified the bastards. They’re called stink bugs, otherwise known as Coreidae. And the remedy is – goodness – a swift swipe. In this day and age! You’d think science could come up with something better than that, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Nina, you amaze me. All those years you were a whiz-kid, and here you are wallowing in domesticity as happy as a pig in pee.’

  ‘Shit,’ I said. ‘You should lay off English idioms.’

  Wolf crouched beside me and tickled my nose with a blade of grass.

  ‘Hey! I have to concentrate. I’m into a full-scale war of attrition. I tell you, Wolf, you wouldn’t believe the variety of African bugs just dying to munch my succulent English roses.’

  ‘Roses are not English, darling, they come from Asia. These tea-roses are native to China.’ He gazed at me quizzically. ‘Aren’t you bored?’ he asked.

  ‘No. Should I be?’

  There was never enough time, because I still worked part-time for Bertram’s. For the rest, my days were filled with pleasure. All my earlier unpleasant pregnancy symptoms had vanished leaving me with a deep sense of contentment. I was longing for the birth of my child, and I had only one worry and that was Wolf, who was chronically overworked. Despite his glowing tan, there were deep shadows under his eyes and lines criss-crossed around them, but his expression was still as caring. He sat at his computer half the night, endlessly scribbling into notebooks and filing his data on to floppies that he kept locked in his safe.

  I’d come to the conclusion he was a genius. He had so many irons in the fire, so many get-rich-quick schemes on the go involving a quick in and out. Most of them worked out well for him, so why was he always so keyed up? It was as if he performed his juggling acts on a high-tension wire. One slip would mean disaster. If only I could shoulder some of his load.

  ‘I’d be happier if I could help you with your workload.’ I saw his face change and hurried on. ‘That was what we planned, remember? You’d be amazed how helpful I could be. Accounts are my business.’

  ‘God forbid that I should allow my pregnant wife to overtire herself. Besides, Nina, most of my work is classified. I told you that.’

  Sometimes, I wondered if he used this to keep me out of his affairs.

  ‘Come here, you MCP. Would you like to feel your baby kick? Put your hand here. Maybe he’ll do it again.’

  I sprawled back on the grass, propped myself on my elbow, and felt the tiny foot kicking out from inside. ‘He’s restless. He takes after you.’

  Wolf pressed his hand over my swollen belly. ‘I can feel him. He kicked me. Can you believe it? Do you think he can hear us?’ Wolf’s expression was a mixture of pride and awe.

  ‘I like to think he can.’

  ‘Listen here, Nicholas, you mustn’t kick your mother. Be gentle or you’ll have me to deal with one of these days. Just you wait, my boy.’

  ‘Nicholas? What sort of a name is that? Russian?’

  ‘My grandfather’s name. I would love to call him Nicholas.’

  ‘Nicholas it is. But, Wolf, what if he’s a girl?’

  ‘Then we’ll call her Nicola, but I’m sure he’s a boy.’ Wolf pressed his lips against my stomach. ‘I love you both,’ he murmured. ‘Of course you’re right about us working together, but only later. I’m thinking of ditching Armscor.

  ‘Darling Nina,’ he went on, ‘I wanted to buy something to tell you how much I sympathize with your swollen state. You never complain, but it must be difficult. I couldn’t find anything precious enough, so I had this made instead. It’s been in my pocket all day. It’s nothing.’ He dropped a small packet on the grass beside me and stood up. ‘See you at lunch. Bernie and I have to work.’

  I watched him stride away, tall, vigorous and immensely handsome. I envied him his figure. At six months I was so ungainly.

  I opened the wrapping and found a beautiful emerald and sapphire bracelet, exquisitely worked in 24-carat gold leaf chain. The note read: ‘Thank you for my son.’

  I was acquiring quite a collection of jewellery. Strange, I had never thought that I, of all people, would learn to value such things, but it had been given with love so I loved it.

  The days passed in a heady glow of sunshine and success. We became richer as profits poured in from his many and varied business ventures, but I sometimes worried about what I had become. I saw myself as some vast, swollen fertility symbol, all belly and little else.

  But then my baby was born and, like everything else in my married life, it happened with little pain and a great deal of joy. Wolf was with me throughout the birth, hovering over me, lending me strength with his own energy, showering me with love. When my son was washed and dressed and wrapped in a shawl, I held him in my arms and gloated over his beautiful dark red hair, which was long for a newborn baby, and his tiny but perfect fingers and his funny little screwed-up face. It was love at first sight.

  *

  After the birth of my son, Nicholas, I discovered that Wolf had other talents I’d never suspected. He was the perfect father. Despite the presence of Mavis, a young, local full-time nanny, one or the other of us was always with our child. We still went out into the bush for days and travelled a great deal, but Nicky went with us. Sometimes we had to walk for hours, and he would sit in his backpacker strapped on Wolf’s strong shoulders.

  In those wonderful, explorative days of Nicky’s infancy, Wolf and I became as close as two people ever could be. Our sex brought us unbelievable heights of joy as we coaxed every ounce of pleasure from each other’s bodies.

  Nicky was a sweet child with a happy nature. He said his first word at ten months. Much to our chagrin it was ‘Nanny’. A few months later that graduated to ‘Nanny do’. He would point imperiously at whatever he wanted done or lifted or taken away, and Mavis, who adored him, did his bidding with a smile. She was never impatient with him, but later I learned that this was
an African trait. They spoil their children.

  It was about then that we acquired a Great Dane puppy, whom I named Brigit the Second. Nicky adored her, and although he often came off worse in their romps around the garden, he never complained.

  One morning, when Nicky was almost twenty-two months old, he asked to play in the pool.

  ‘Later, Nicky. Mummy has to finish this cake first.’

  His big brown eyes gazed seriously at me. ‘Later?’

  ‘Of course.’ He took his truck off to the fenced-off area of garden outside the kitchen door. Shortly afterwards, I heard Brigit barking furiously. She sounded distressed. I looked around for Nicky, but there was no sign of him. Then I saw that he had somehow managed to drag a garden chair to the swimming-pool fence and throw himself over.

  ‘Oh, God! Oh, no! Oh, God!’ I raced to the pool, leaped on to the chair and toppled over the fence. Brigit, dripping with water, was guarding my soaked, frightened child. Nicky gazed at me tremulously, his bottom lip quivering, his hair wet and falling over his face, his eyes pleading for mercy.

  I hugged him tightly and threw one arm around the dog’s neck. Later, she was rewarded with the remainder of yesterday’s cold roast lamb, but it took me hours to stop shaking.

  ‘He’s strong and resourceful,’ Wolf said, when I told him about the accident. ‘It’s amazing that Brigit managed to jump over the fence to rescue him. From now on I’ll spend an hour a day teaching Nicky to swim, and meantime that fence is going up another metre. I’ll call the company right now.’

  *

  Since Nicky’s birth, without really meaning to, we had adopted the lifestyle of our neighbours and friends. We went shares with Bernie on the running costs of his helicopter and patronized all the best restaurants within a three-hundred-kilometre radius of Constantia, we took two long holidays a year, Europe in spring and some tropical paradise in winter. Because we would not leave him behind, Nicky had become one of the most travelled children in our set. Wolf’s work for the government meant endless invitations to semi-official dinners and cocktail parties all over the Republic. We had a box at the races, we flew to Durban for the July Handicap, to Johannesburg for the Grand Prix.

  In the early days, I used to wonder when the honeymoon would be over. Eventually I came to believe that it would never be over.

  I was wrong. Even now I can pinpoint the exact date and time when we fell out of paradise. It was 2 October, 1992, one day before Nicky’s second birthday.

  Chapter 24

  ‘Nina, I’ve come to you because… well, because we’re friends.’

  Friendly was not a word I would use to describe Joy at that moment. Her blue eyes flashed ice.

  ‘Joy. What a lovely surprise. Come in. I’m working in the kitchen. D’you mind sitting there?’ As I took her to the kitchen, I couldn’t help wondering if her lover was playing up again. ‘Let’s have a drink. Take a look at that!’

  I had just finished making the birthday cake, with two candles and a multi-coloured toy train made of sweets and icing-sugar on the top. I was proud of it.

  ‘Wolf’s not here, is he?’ Joy said, looking around nervously and ignoring my cake. ‘Bernie said he’s away.’

  ‘Namibia, but he’ll be back early tomorrow. It’s Nicky’s birthday tomorrow. You hadn’t forgotten, had you? Don’t you like it?’

  ‘Good! I mean… Oh, yes, the cake.’ Momentarily, Joy looked sad. ‘I have to speak to you privately. Theo wants to call in the fraud squad. Bernie won’t let him because we’re up to our necks in this thing.’

  ‘Joy, please, calm down. I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘I’m talking about Wolf’s container business.’

  ‘I didn’t know Wolf had a container business.’

  ‘I told Bernie he’d never tell you. Sometimes you’re so uptight about things like that.’

  I heard a yell from the nursery. ‘Hang on, Joy. Let’s see to Nicky.’

  Joy followed me to the nursery.

  ‘I’ve never seen a two-year-old so utterly spoiled,’ Joy murmured, as I lifted Nicky out of his cot and hugged him close. Moments later, he was all smiles.

  Joy reached for him and I relinquished my baby grudgingly. I could hardly bear to let anyone else hold him. ‘He needs changing.’ I wrinkled my nose.

  Joy handed him back fast. ‘Isn’t he potty-trained?’

  ‘By day, yes, but not when he sleeps.’

  ‘Sometimes I wish—’ She broke off and bit her lip. ‘You and Nicky make me broody. Well, it’s too late now.’ She looked so wistful and deprived. She had been going through another bad patch lately.

  I carried Nicky back to the kitchen, put him in his pushchair while I put the finishing touches to the cake.

  Joy’s story poured out. ‘Don’t get upset, Nina. Help me! I’m scared. This scheme involves our total savings.’

  ‘What scheme? Joy, you’re not making sense. Start at the beginning.’

  ‘Wolf has imported some advanced computer technology for missile tracking, that sort of thing. Sanctions prevent South Africa from importing this type of product, but Wolf knows some right-wing US manufacturers sympathetic to the government. Bernie got involved when Wolf needed bridging finance in a hurry. He coughed up because of the profits involved.’

  ‘I presume you wouldn’t tell me this if you weren’t absolutely sure of your facts, Joy. So what’s the problem?’

  ‘Money, of course. I’m getting there.’

  She began to pace up and down distractedly. ‘About three years ago, Wolf bought the controlling share of a Dutch company called International Containerisation.’ She turned in a swift, compulsive movement and pulled out a chair. ‘He told Bernie he would use it to smuggle his money out of the country. Fairly simple with the containers being shipped all over the world,’ she explained, tight-lipped and pale. ‘The point is, eventually you sell the containers overseas and only repatriate part of the cash. It’s a long-term project.

  ‘Every one of our friends is transferring their capital overseas via Wolf’s business. Between us, the investment amounts to several million rands. Right now he holds the lot. The containers were scheduled to be sold months ago. Wolf keeps promising the money, but we never see it. None of us has received a cent.’

  ‘I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation.’ It was an effort to sound calm. ‘I’ll ask him as soon as he gets back.’

  ‘Then there’s the short-term finance Bernie advanced for the tracking system. Repayment is a month overdue. Bernie has a suspicion that Wolf is going broke. That would ruin us. Oh, God, Nina. I’m sorry to burden you with this, but Bernie can’t get a damn thing out of Wolf. You know how charming and convincing he can be. He promises the moon, but does nothing.’

  She leaned over the table and buried her face in her hands. When she looked up I noticed how red her eyes were.

  ‘The problem with breaking the law is that we have no recourse to lawyers or the police. Not even to foreign lawyers unless Bernie flies over. I suppose he’ll have to. Even the bloody phones are tapped here, and you know how often mail is opened.’

  ‘True.’

  ‘Try to find out for us, Nina.’

  ‘I’ll speak to Wolf. He must have it out with you. I’m sure it’s all right. Just a delay. After all, you said it was a long-term project.’

  ‘There’s a rumour going round that Wolf has created a diamond-dredging scam up at Torrabaai in Namibia. A Greek ship-owner who invested in the project is suing him for millions. Did he tell you?’

  I shook my head, suddenly feeling sick.

  ‘I always warned you about him. We never really knew his background. Take care — but please, find out what’s happened to our cash.’

  ‘How could you distrust Wolf? We’re friends, aren’t we? Wolf has proved himself trustworthy so many times. For God’s sake, Joy, be realistic.’

  She shot me a guilty smile and drove off looking haggard and old.

  *

&nbs
p; I felt bad about using the master key to Wolf’s garden study, particularly since he had no idea that I had one. Not that I’d ever wanted to spy on him, but the insurance broker had insisted on a duplicate being available in case of fire or burglary.

  Switching on Wolf’s PC was virtually admitting my distrust, wasn’t it? I was making a definite statement. I squirmed with shame.

  ‘Please, God, let there be a good reason for what he’s doing.’

  As I had expected, Wolf had installed a password, which prevented access. I sighed and got to work, dredging up skills from my Machiavellian days when hacking was my hobby. It took me half an hour to remove Wolf’s hard disk and change the pin-setting. Something I’d always thought of as a computer lobotomy, turning the hard-disk drive into a slave-drive, obedient to my own laptop’s commands. I switched on my laptop and made myself comfortable.

  Letter by letter, I began the painstaking search for Wolf’s six-digit password, starting with the first letter and running through the alphabet. Half an hour later, I had the word. Bosbok. I almost cried at the memory of Namaqualand and that intrepid plane that transported us up and down the coast for the next nine months before being sold for scrap. Oh, God! To think that we had come to this. I blamed myself for listening to Joy. How could I spy on my husband? Yet I could not bring myself to stop. Joy’s words had triggered hundreds of queries I had put aside over the past few months.

  At last, I was able to key into Wolf’s business files. Perhaps I’d get an insight into how he operated. There were almost a hundred ledgers, with a handful of documents in each one, so I hardly knew where to start. His business interests were varied and intricate and, far from going bust, he seemed to be making a fortune, at least with the ones I examined.

  The Torrabaai Diamond Dredging operation came under the umbrella of the Trans-African Development Foundation. That was curious. A number of diamond deals in Angola were also listed under this umbrella trust company.

  It was almost three a.m. when I found the container company, listed under Lubeck, for reasons I did not understand, until I learned that the main bank account was there, too, not in Amsterdam. The records showed agents in every major port, bills of lading for each cargo shifted over the past three years, plus the number, the owners, and the position and destination of every container moving between Europe, Africa and the East. Everything was carefully listed, giving a fair description of South Africa’s international trade, much as one would expect: minerals, fruit and wine on the out trips, manufactured items coming in.