Rotten Peaches

by Lisa de Nikolits

  “I don’t know yet. I’ll have to see. Can I take him now?”

  “Sure. I’ll get a box for you to put him in. And I’ll get his food.”

  She leaves me with the dog and when she comes back, I look up at her. “I was wrong,” I say, smiling, “I do know what happiness feels like. It feels like this.”

  “Good to hear,” Deanna says and she looks around and I see someone standing behind her. “This is my brother, Johan.”

  “Hello,” I stand up and shake the man’s hand. He was a carbon copy of his mother, with the same square-jaw, cleft chin, high cheek bones, and wide set dark eyes. I know what my mother saw in Marika and I hold his hand for a moment too long.

  “You don’t remember me? You got off with me all night at a drive-in one time, and then you wouldn’t return my calls,” Johan says good-naturedly.

  “I’m sorry,” I reply and I wonder about my teenage self about whom I have no recollection. Johan shakes his head.

  “No way, it was a fantastic night. You came to buy a puppy?”

  “I did,” I lie. “I’m alone in the farmhouse across the way. I wonder what I should call him.”

  “It’ll come to you,” Johan says. “You’ve got a half-brother, hey? That was quite the TV show.”

  “Don’t you guys ever do anything except watch TV?” I ask, and they both laugh.

  We are lining the puppy’s box with newspaper when I spot the headline: Monument Slayer Suspect Identified.

  “Wait,” I stop them. “I need to read this.” And I understand when cheap crime novels say a person’s blood ran cold because that is what mine does when I see the picture of Dirk, right underneath that headline. I start to scan the paper.

  “I wouldn’t have thought you would be interested in the Voortrekker Monument,” Deanna says and I shake my head, distracted. “I’m not. I dated him.”

  “What a moron,” Johan says. “He tried to re-ignite old-school Afrikaner tribal values by blowing up the monument. The only problem is that no one believes in those antiquated values except for him.”

  “How did they find out it was him?”

  “You haven’t been watching the news, have you? It’s been a huge deal. The ANC have been panic-stricken that this would start a war so they’ve had the whole police force on it. The funny thing, they were more worried about it than the Afrikaners were. I mean the Afrikaners were upset, but it wasn’t going to start a war.”

  “Aren’t you Afrikaans?” I ask and both Johan and Deanna shrug.

  “Sort of,” Johan says. “Ja nee, yes and no. I mean yes, but it doesn’t define me. Life goes on.”

  “How did they catch this guy?”

  Johan laughs. “This oke wasn’t exactly a brain surgeon. He kept sending them emails, ranting about how the new-wave Afrikaner had betrayed his volk. They found him through the IP addresses. The guy just couldn’t shut up.”

  “Is he in prison?”

  Johan shook his head. “That’s just how they identified him. They didn’t catch him. He skipped the country. They think he is somewhere in the U.S.”

  “IP addresses? He’s been texting me but I haven’t read them. I don’t even know what he’s been saying. But what if they ask me about him?”

  “What if they do? It’s not like you had anything to do with blowing up the monument. Just show them the texts on your phone.”

  “In which he told me he had something planned. I should have said something to the police and I didn’t. Can they charge me for that?”

  “No one would have believed you. Were you still seeing each other?”

  “No, we had broken up.”

  “There you go then. The police would just have said it was a private relationship issue and left you to it. I wouldn’t worry.”

  But I am worried. I gave Dirk a million rand and he used it to blow up the monument. But I can’t tell Deanna or Johan that.

  “Maybe I should call the police myself,” I said. “Tell them what I know.”

  “No.” Johan is adamant and Deanna agrees.

  “Don’t say anything. That article isn’t exactly new, and that’s when they figured out who it was. They would have contacted you by now.”

  “When did he leave the country?”

  “They discovered he was gone right after that was published. They should have waited till they caught him but you know the media. All eager beaver to break a story, no matter what the consequences.”

  I check the newspaper date. It was the day I had the locksmith come to the house. People had seen me at home and in the town having breakfast. At least there’s no way they can tie me to his leaving. But the money. It will find its way back to me eventually, I’m sure of it.

  Johan hefts the box with my dog in it and I force myself back into the moment. “Ja, you’re right,” I say, although he hasn’t said anything further. “There’s no use thinking about it now. Let’s get this baby home.”

  We walk to my car.

  “Nice ride,” Johan comments.

  “Rental. But yes, I do enjoy driving it.”

  “It’s not safe, you being there at the farm all alone. I am going to follow you. Don’t worry, I’m not looking for Drive-In Make Out Session Number Two. I just want to see you safely inside your house.”

  “I am not going to argue.” It’s getting dark and I’m not looking forward to going back my house by myself. I wonder again if Elsie is finished with me or if she has anything else in store.

  “Deanna, can you give me your phone number? I mean what if SunnyBoy gets sick or something?”

  “SunnyBoy?”

  “The dog! Miami Vice, don’t you know?”

  “Not bad. Johan, give her our number. Listen, you crazy woman, I’m glad we met all these years later even if you’re still exactly the same as you ever were and you still don’t remember anything or anyone unless it pertains to your needs. That said, I really hope you will come visit again, okay? I wasn’t just saying that, before. Goodbye SunnyBoy. I hope I haven’t sent you to the dark side of the moon, with this new home of yours.”

  “She likes you,” Johan says after Deanna marches off into the house.

  “I like her too.” I get into the car. “Race you there,” I say and I speed down the driveway, forgetting about the electronic gates and having to come to a grinding halt which is a tiny bit embarrassing.

  42.

  JOHAN MAKES ME WAIT AT THE GATE until he pulls up right behind me. And he sits there, grinning at me while I watch him in the rearview mirror. He finally opens the gate and lets me out.

  I’m relieved he’s with me when we arrive at the farm because the place is in darkness. I let us into the house with Johan carrying SunnyBoy. We go into the kitchen and settle the puppy.

  “You want some coffee?” I’m reluctant to see Johan go.

  “Dinner maybe?” Johan suggests and I pull open the freezer door.

  “The world’s cuisine is at your door,” I wave a hand in front of the stocked freezer. “I went shopping. Pizza, Indian, Chinese, Thai, veg, burgers, you name it.”

  Johan is horrified. “It’s all frozen! Where’s the real food?”

  “What do you mean? That is real. Oh, you mean ingredients, like making a thing from scratch. I can’t do that.”

  “Why not? Your books are cookbooks.”

  “Don’t believe everything you read! I have zero interest in cooking. It’s a waste of time. Anyway, Betty cooks for me. Correction, she used to cook for me. I am going to have to learn to cook or learn to eat like this.”

  “This is a wasteland! You’ve got Siberia in your freezer!”

  “It’s not so bad! I suggest we have pizza. I will add extra cheese: parmesan, mozzarella and blue cheese. It will be fantastic. You’ll be amazed.”

  “Fine, amaze me,” Johan said and he sits down at the table. “
So you were seeing Mr. Opregte Afrikaner. When did that end?”

  “Why did you call him that?”

  “He called himself that, not me. It was his signoff.”

  I read the instructions on the back of the pizza box and turn on the oven.

  “It ended a couple of weeks before he blew up the monument. Are you married?” I want to deflect the conversation away from Dirk and me. Besides, I’m curious.

  “My wife died of breast cancer two years ago. She was only thirty-seven. Broke my heart.”

  “Ag shame, I’m very sorry. Do you have kids?”

  “Nope. We thought we had lots of time. But now I’m glad we didn’t have any. I don’t think I would have made a good dad. I’m too into my own things. I neglected my wife, I know I did, and I feel bad about that.”

  “What kind of things are you into? Red or white wine?”

  “Red, and I am assuming your question isn’t limited to my wine selection. I fly planes, I like to travel, I have won a handful of photography awards, and I’m a local member of parliament.”

  “Whoa. Now me, I have my books and my writing and that’s about it.” I hand him his wine and start grating the cheese.

  Johan looks around. “Don’t you get lonely here at night, all by yourself? And no, that wasn’t a come-on.”

  “I haven’t been back here that long. It is scary, actually. I’m going to get some proper security fences installed around the perimeter of the property. All I’ve got is some old barbwire. Hardly a deterrent. But now I have SunnyBoy.”

  “He’s a puppy, not a guard dog,” Johan points out.

  “True but he can sound an alarm by barking. At least I hope so.”

  We both hear a car pull up and Johan looks at me. “You expecting visitors?”

  I shake my head.

  “Come on, let’s go and see who it is. Maybe Deanna got psychic about the incredible pizza you are going to serve and she wants in.”

  I follow Johan down the hallway and I peer through the peephole.

  “It’s that policeman, Bethell,” I whisper to Johan. “He thinks I am responsible for Isaac’s disappearance as well as two other men. He was here earlier and he is a nasty piece of work.”

  Johan pulls the door open. “Goie nag, Donnie,” he says cordially. “Wat doen jy here?”

  My Afrikaans is fairly bad but I understand he’s asking him what he’s doing here.

  “I came by to see if this lovely lady is okay. Is that a crime, Johan?” Bethell says in English and he sways back and forth, his eyes bloodshot.

  “As a matter of fact, I don’t think it is all right for you to be here.” Johan pulls out his phone and holds it up to Bethell. “You want me to phone the Colonel and tell him you need to be transferred for yet another indiscretion? You got away with it last time because the girl wouldn’t press charges, but you’ve got no right to be here now. Get lost and don’t come back. In fact, I’m going to call the Colonel anyway, because you’re as trustworthy as a puff adder snake.”

  “Fok’s sakes, I’m going, I’m going,” Bethell says but Johan is already talking into the phone and Bethell turns and runs. He jumps into his car and races off.

  “Thank you,” I say after he hangs up. “I hate to think of what would have happened if you hadn’t been here.”

  “I am glad I could help. No way am I leaving you alone though. I’m going to phone Deanna and tell her I’m staying here tonight. I don’t trust Bethell. He might come back.”

  “Why don’t you invite Deanna over for supper?” I ask. “I don’t want her to think I am up to my old tricks with you. I like her and if you tell her you’re staying with me, she’ll lose what little respect I may have earned back.”

  Johan dials his sister’s number. “Yes, she really does want you to come,” he says when Deanna questions the invitation and I shout affirmation.

  “Tell her to hurry up, the pizza is nearly ready.”

  “She said move your arse,” Johan speaks into the phone, grins and hangs up.

  “Who’s the Colonel when he’s at home? I meant to ask.”

  “Chief of police. He’s a good friend. I don’t know why he doesn’t fire that creep Bethell. Do you have any frozen dessert for after our unfrozen pizza?”

  I point at the freezer. “A veritable plethora of ice cream,” I say to his delight.

  Deanna arrives just as the pizza is ready and we carry the food into the living room.

  “Since I am the hostess,” I say, “I get to choose what we will watch with our fine dining.”

  Deanna groans. “Is it? Okay well as long as it’s not The Notebook, or anything with Julia Roberts.”

  “Give me credit for having some taste.” I say and I click the remote at the TV.

  When the theme song for Miami Vice sounds, they both look at me, open-mouthed.

  “Given what you named your dog, I should have expected that,” Johan grins at me.

  “I have seasons one to five. Both here and at my house in Johannesburg. We have ourselves some watching to do.”

  “Bernice,” Deanna says as a long cheese pull attaches itself to her chin, “you are one sick puppy. SunnyBoy, I apologize. I shouldn’t insult puppies.”

  We watch five episodes in a row. And I can’t remember the last time I had such fun.

  We eat the pizza, finish off two bottles of wine and a bottle of schnapps. We also eat an entire tub of chocolate and fudge ice cream.

  “I am drunk,” Deanna says, weaving to the bathroom. “I admit it without shame. I am drunk.”

  “You’re staying here too for sure,” I say and I yawn. “I’ll sleep in my mom’s room, Johan, you take my dad’s, and Deanna, you take mine.”

  I get them settled and I coax SunnyBoy to jump onto my bed.

  “Teaching him bad habits,” Johan says, from the doorway and I jump.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.” He comes over to the bed and lies down next to me. He’s wearing boxer shorts and a T-shirt and he smells so good, spicy and warm. I quite forget about SunnyBoy and I turn to him.

  “I thought you weren’t interested?” I tease him.

  “I lied. Come here, you.”

  When I wake the next morning, SunnyBoy is whining to go outside and both Johan and Deanna are gone.

  They scribbled me a note saying they were off to do some real work, not like writing books which meant you could stay up as late as you like and get up as late as you like too, and I smile. It’s weird and wonderful how life can change, from one moment to the next. I text Johan, and ask him if he’s be interested in a third make-out date and I’m happy when my phone resounds almost immediately with a YES! and a happy face.

  I grab SunnyBoy and take him outside. I know I should be writing but all I want to do is think about how happy I am. But I decide to check the messages from Dirk and when I do, I realize that my happiness has been extinguished.

  I will be leaving the farm again and much sooner than I had planned.

  But before I go anywhere, I need to phone Betty.

  I find the piece of paper with her number on it and I dial, my hands shaking. I know she doesn’t want to speak to me but I don’t care. I’m going to thank her for taking care of me and I’m going to tell her that I love her and that I miss her. The phone rings forever and I’m about to hang up when a child’s voice speaks.

  “Hello?” a boy says.

  “Is Betty there?”

  “Betty?” he repeats and my voice gets stuck in my throat. Betty must be there.

  “Hello?” Another voice comes to the phone. “Who are you looking for?”

  “Betty.” For god’s sake, I don’t even know her surname. How ignorant am I? I saw Rosie’s surname on the email but I can’t remember it. I hate myself so much in that moment. I treated Betty like a robot or, much worse, a slave. Nothin
g more than my caretaker, my nanny, my maid.

  “I’m Bernice von Coller. Betty looked after me for years. Her daughter is Rosie. I got this number from Deanna Lamerdin. Please tell me that Betty’s there. I need to speak to her urgently.”

  “Yebo, Betty is here. Wait.”

  I wait. And I wait and wait.

  Eventually I hear footsteps approaching and I stand up straight.

  “Hello?” It is Betty.

  “Betty?” My own voice breaks. “It’s me, Bernice. How are you?”

  “Fine, thank you.” Betty is reticent and polite.

  “I’m at the farm. Betty, Dirk used my money to blow up the Voortrekker Monument.”

  “I saw that.”

  “I was so stupid. More stupid than usual. I’m very sorry. You must think I am such an idiot.”

  “You thought it was for a horse. But he was a rubbish, that man.”

  “Yes, he was. He is. But I shouldn’t have given him money for a horse. I shouldn’t have given him money for anything. What was I thinking? I completely lost my way. And Theresa’s having an affair with him. She has been with him the whole time since he left Chrizette. So anyway, I came back to the farm. And now Isaac and two of his friends have disappeared and the police think maybe I had something to do with it. They asked me all kinds of questions.”

  I am silent after that and Betty doesn’t say anything either.

  “I got your number from Deanna Lamerdin,” I say, desperate to keep her on the line. “I got a puppy from her too. And I met her brother again, Johan. Apparently I went on a date with him when I was a teenager.”

  “Yes, you did. Did you finish your new book?”

  I sigh. “Ag Betty, I have no new book. I thought I was going to write a memoir. That didn’t work out. Then I thought I could write a crime novel. But the truth is I’m not a fiction writer. I’m a psychologist not a writer. And let’s face it, I’m not a cook in any way, shape or form. You are. I’m sorry I took you for granted, Betty. I’m sorry I never gave you credit for everything you did. The recipes were all yours. Rosie was right to do what she did. I should have done it long ago. I wish you had said something to me.”