CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX

As Henk and I drove back through the veld, I understood why the Klein Karoo was called that. Not the Karoo bit – I know it means ‘place of thirst’ because it is dry, but the Klein part. Small. Everything looked small. The sheep, the koppies and trees. We passed a small gwarrie tree. Hundreds of years old and wrinkled like an old man. Just the sky was big. And Henk, sitting next to me. His arms and his moustache. His silence. Everything about him was big. And the longer we drove in silence, the smaller I felt. I was part of the Klein Karoo, but he belonged to the Groot Karoo. The Big Karoo.

We were close to my turn-off when he spoke. Even though he was sitting right next to me, he sounded as if he was far away, talking from the Groot Karoo.

‘Maria. I know your group is important to you. And you think you can help; I mean I’m sure you can help. But Ricus is experienced. People will talk without you there. Could you consider staying away? Staying out of it?’

‘Henk,’ I said, from the Klein Karoo. ‘How can I explain? Let me ask you this: if you were asked to step away from this case, to let someone else do it – would you?’

A falcon on a telephone pole watched us drive past.

As we turned onto my dirt road, I said, ‘How about I ask Jessie to join the group? She has such good ears and eyes, and people love to talk to her. She’d be extra protection. She’s sharp and always carries . . . stuff on her belt. The group won’t know she’s a . . . um . . . double agent, and she can share her kidnapping story. It will be good for her.’

Henk’s chestnut moustache trembled just a little, but the rest of him stayed still.

‘I’ll make that cottage pie tonight,’ I said. ‘I still have some pear cake. You could come in for a piece now.’

He shook his head.

‘Well, later then,’ I said. ‘I am glad Kosie has a new home. He’ll be happy there. It makes it a bit easier, for us . . .’

Henk pulled up in my driveway, but he did not park in the shade of the eucalyptus tree. He turned off his engine.

‘Maria,’ he said. ‘There can be no . . . us.’

It is strange how I knew what he was going to say, but at the same time it was such a shock. He looked down at his fingers on the steering wheel as he spoke. As much as he loves me, because he loves me, he can’t stay involved with someone who is always in danger. He just can’t take losing me. I had heard all the words before. And there was nothing I could say to him that I had not said before.

I watched the sunlight on the eucalyptus leaves, and a part of me felt relieved because now I wouldn’t have to tell him about what happened with Fanie. Maybe no one need ever know the whole story about Fanie and me. And when I turned for a moment and saw that sad look in his eyes, I knew that he was still grieving for his wife, that he was still in love with her. She would never have got involved in a murder case. She was certainly not a murderer herself. She was probably one of those stay-at-home-and-cook wives. Maybe she was even a better cook than me. His speech didn’t take long, but it was long enough to get hot, sitting in the car in the midday sun. I was sweaty and upset and maybe a bit angry, but even though I was full of all these feelings, I felt kind of empty. I realised I was hungry. Very hungry. I hadn’t had a proper breakfast. There was still some of that cake left over, and I could whip up a quick batch of scones.

‘Goodbye, Henk,’ I said, wondering whether to make cheese scones or plain scones.

* * *

I made both. And ate them with apricot jam and cheese. Together with the cake, they made a three-course lunch. When I was done, that empty feeling was gone.

My phone rang. It was Ricus.

‘Everyone is keen,’ he said. ‘And ready to meet this afternoon.’

‘What will we do about supper?’

‘Dirk will make toasted sandwiches on the fire.’

‘I’ll bring pudding,’ I said, not knowing what kind of pudding I’d make.

Ricus told me that Kannemeyer and two other policemen would be on duty.

I found it hard to decide on the right pudding when I felt deurmekaar, like my life was tumbled upside down.

‘Will you tell the group that the murderer is one of us?’ I asked.

‘No. It’s better they don’t know. Let them think they got away with it. I explained about the security, that the group would be protected.’

I told him my idea about Jessie, and he thought it was a good one.

‘I was wondering, Ricus, do you think . . .?’ I said.

‘Ja?’

‘Do you think I am a good cook?’

‘Tannie Maria, how can you ask that? You know you are the best.’

‘Okay.’

‘Are you all right?’

‘I know – I’ll make a pineapple upside-down cake. I have a recipe for one with nuts. Macadamia nuts.’

I called Jessie at home.

‘Tannie M!’ she said. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Are you free later?’ I said.

‘You need me, I’m there. What’s happening?’

‘Join our PTSD therapy group. From 4 p.m. at Ricus’s place. But come to me early, and I’ll fill you in.’

‘I’ll be there at three.’

‘I’ve made scones.’

‘Awesome. I’ll be there at two.’