IN HER PRETORIA OFFICE Susan Vickers read an online account of Slim’s funeral. She’d been to so many funerals in the past. As she finished reading the story she hummed ‘Hamba Kahle’ to herself. She remembered the youthful black comrades carrying Graeme’s coffin out of Orlando Stadium. Even if Slim was misguided, Susan didn’t think badly about the dead. Funerals were some of her most cherished memories, expressions of life at the moment of death. So different from the repressed white church of her youth. Who ever danced at a white funeral?
Peter visited her that night. He’d had a meeting with Minister Tumahole that afternoon.
‘It’s taking off,’ he told her. ‘Three new municipalities are targeted for the prepaids. We might have to adjust the tariffs upward a notch or two as revenue is still slightly less than projections, but it’s still early days.’
He’d brought a video of Roxanne, the old Steve Martin movie, and a dozen red roses. She thanked him for the flowers. Nothing transformed a room like roses. Red was her favourite colour. She kissed him gently on the forehead, then put the flowers in some water. A lovely gesture, but she was still thinking about Orlando Stadium, those thousands of black youth packed against the chain-link fence around the edge of the pitch.
‘Roxanne may be the funniest film of all time,’ said Peter. ‘You’ll love it.’
‘Not tonight,’ she said. ‘I’ve got a lot of work.’ She’d seen the movie before and thought it was dreadful. She didn’t fancy American comedies.
Peter watched Roxanne by himself in her lounge. By the time it was over, Susan had fallen asleep with a 300-page report next to her on the bed.
When they woke up the next morning, she told him the relationship wasn’t working, that the worlds of ‘business and government were just too different’. She knew it sounded like a foolish explanation, but it was the best way she could think of to characterise their differences without a long discussion.
‘These days we are partners,’ he replied. ‘You should have watched that video with me last night. It would have cheered you up.’
‘I don’t need cheering up,’ she said.
‘You don’t look very happy,’ he said.
‘We can talk about it later.’
‘Right,’ he said. ‘I’ll leave the video for you. Trust me. It’s a classic.’
‘Thanks,’ she said as she flipped through some file folders trying to decide which ones had to go to the office.
As soon as they got outside, Susan strode quickly towards her car.
‘I’ll phone you when I get back from Brazil,’ he said. ‘I’m leaving tomorrow, early.’ He held up a Portuguese phrase book and smiled. ‘The Brazilians are begging for the prepaids,’ he added.
‘I may be out of town,’ she said without turning around. ‘I’ll let you know.’
‘Whatever,’ he replied and got into his car. He switched on the CD player.
‘Bon dia,’ Susan heard the voice on the tape say.
‘Bon dia,’ Peter repeated and pulled out of the driveway.