CHAPTER SEVENTY

‘How are you doing, Jessie?’ said Ricus, when the group had settled down again.

‘I’m fine.’

‘Anything you’d like to share?’

‘Sometime I’ll talk about my kidnapping, but not now.’

‘Were you kidnapped?’ said Lemoni. ‘Did they catch the guy?’

‘Yes,’ said Jessie, ‘he’s dead.’

‘Good,’ said Lemoni. ‘These people who just get away with robbery. It makes me so angry . . .’

‘You’ve been feeling angry, Lemoni?’ said Ricus.

‘Yes, since what happened here the other night. It’s just wrong. Wrong.’

‘The murder of Tata Radebe.’

‘Yes. It brought it all up for me. That night when they broke in and ruined the dinner. The Psari me Spanaki. They took everything. All my jewels.’ She ran her fingers up and down the handle of her bag. Her turquoise nail varnish sparkled in the late-afternoon light.

‘How are you feeling about that?’ asked Ricus.

‘I feel so . . . violated.’ She looked at Jessie, who nodded her head. ‘Sometimes I just can’t bear it . . . I can’t sleep.’

‘I am sorry,’ said Ricus.

‘You are sorry?’ said Lemoni. There were tears in her eyes now. ‘How could you possibly understand how I feel? Even my husband can’t, and he was there when it happened.’

‘I haven’t had the same experience as you,’ said Ricus, ‘but all of us here have experienced some kind of violation. And the murder last week affected us all—’

‘Yes, yes. I’m sorry. I just get so . . . I’m fine.’

She searched in her bag but couldn’t find what she was looking for, and Ousies handed her a napkin. Lemoni dabbed it gently under her eyes, careful not to smudge her make-up.

‘Please,’ she said. ‘I am fine.’ She made a circling movement with her hand. ‘Move on.’

‘How are you doing, Tannie Maria?’ said Ricus.

‘I am feeling a bit upside down,’ I said, looking at my cake by the fire. ‘I don’t know what to do. Like we said last time, forgiveness is not just forgiveness, it’s about what you can do to make things right. I don’t know if I’m making sense. Fatima, I mean Fadhi, was brave; so now he can forgive himself for being scared.’ Fadhi smiled.

‘Dirk can spend time with his son,’ I continued, ‘which helps him with . . . what he did.’ Dirk nodded. ‘Tata Radebe . . . Well, it’s too late for Tata.’

I looked at Ricus and said, ‘You, you can help others with their problems. To make up for your years of being selfish . . . But what if the thing you have done . . . what if there is no way to make it right? What then?’

‘There is always a way,’ said Ricus. ‘Is there something you want to tell us, Maria?’

‘I . . .’ I said. I hadn’t told Jessie that I’d killed Fanie, let alone how.

I tried again: ‘What happened . . .’ I sighed. ‘Sorry, I’m not ready. I must carry this a bit longer.’ Maybe till I die, I thought.

Jessie leant towards me and patted my shoulder.

The sun was getting low. ‘Shall we start making those toasted sandwiches, then?’ said Ricus.

Dirk jumped up and squatted beside Ousies. They unpacked the contents of the big Tupperwares and laid the sandwiches out on the fire. Grated cheese, sliced chilli biltong, sliced banana and tomato. There was butter on the outside of the bread, which would turn it golden brown. As they were working, Lemoni took her small silver oven tray over to Ousies.

‘This is for you,’ she said. ‘Because you liked the moussaka so much.’

The smile on Ousies’s lips was small, but her eyes wrinkled into creases as she took the dish from Lemoni. She lifted the corner of the tinfoil, closed her eyes and sniffed. She left Dirk to deal with the sandwiches and poked some wood to one side to warm the silver tray.

‘Look at the moon,’ said Jessie.

It had risen into the blue sky. Silent and pale, like a ghost.

‘It’s going to be full soon,’ said Dirk.

‘Lemoni,’ I said, ‘I would love that recipe for the moussaka.’

‘Sure thing, koukla,’ she said, ‘I’ll give it to you now.’ She fished in her bag and got out a pen and notepad. ‘It’s important you use freshly ground nutmeg in the béchamel sauce. Not the powdered stuff. And I always like to add a bit of garlic, even though there’s none in my grandma’s recipe.’

The sun was setting, and the toasted sandwiches were ready. Dirk put them onto enamel plates. Jessie went to help him; Ousies didn’t take her eyes off the moussaka dish.

‘Thank you,’ I said, as Lemoni wrote out the recipe. ‘You know, I’d also love a good fish recipe. We don’t get much fish out here in the Karoo. But every now and then . . . You mentioned a delicious fish dish that got interrupted by those robbers.’

‘Sure. The Psari me Spanaki. Fish with spinach.’ Lemoni said. ‘It’s also got béchamel sauce.’

‘Um, yes,’ I said, realising something. And something else. And something else. Suddenly all the ingredients were falling together into the bowl of my mind . . .

Ousies held the oven tray with a cloth and lifted the foil off the moussaka. She had a big wooden spoon in her hand and was pushing it through the cheesy crust, down into the aubergine and mince. I remembered how she had vacuumed up the moussaka last time.

I got up. I am not a fast mover at the best of times, but everything seemed to happen in extra slow motion.

‘Ousies,’ I called, and she looked at me, her spoon full of juicy moussaka.

Lemoni was standing up behind me, holding on to my shoulder.

‘Don’t eat it,’ I said to Ousies.

‘Ignore her,’ said Lemoni, ‘she’s just greedy; wants it for herself.’

I managed to get to Ousies, Lemoni attached to me, and Jessie now attached to Lemoni. I grabbed the moussaka dish. It was hot and burnt my hands, but I did not let go. Then I did something I didn’t believe I could ever do. I tipped the food over, onto the sand. Ousies started to scoop it up.

‘Ousies, no,’ I said. ‘It’s got poison in it; Slimkat’s poison.’ The kudu was beside Ousies now, its black eyes shining.

She looked at the kudu, which nodded at her, just once; then it started to move around the circle of sand. It lifted its chin up, so its long dark horns lay parallel to its back, and it began to run.

I heard Jessie behind me, talking to Reghardt about hemlock, and Lemoni shouting, ‘You thieves, you thieves.’ She threw herself at Ousies.

Piet and Henk held her back, and she shouted, ‘You stole my diamonds. You and your Bushmen vermin. My husband worked hard for that land. And you stole it. You stole my jewels.’

The kudu jumped onto the Defender panel-van bonnet and then onto its roof. The sky was melting from red to purple. The kudu leapt from roof to roof, across the vans, making a clacking sound with its hooves.

I felt dizzy, and I fell onto the sand. Jessie came to help me up, but I’m quite heavy and the sand was very comfortable, so she squatted down beside me.

‘Tannie M,’ she said.

‘She was lying about the robbery,’ I said. ‘When she first spoke about it, she gave the name of a fish dish that was on the table when it happened. Psari Plaki. Fish baked with garlic and tomatoes. And now she talks about something else. Psari me Spanaki. Something with spinach and sauce. And the garlic, she uses garlic even when it’s not in the recipe. Like in the poison sauce.’

‘And the hemlock,’ said Jessie, ‘she’s not a philosopher, but she is Greek. She would know about Socrates.’

‘And her hankie, she threw it in the fire. She used it to hold the spanner when she hit the aerial gun.’

‘So that she got no gunpowder residue on her hand,’ said Jessie.

‘But Tata, why did she kill Tata?’ I said.

‘He jumped forward,’ said Ousies. ‘To save me.’ She was still squatting at the fire. ‘He gave his life for me.’

‘Can you see it?’ I said to Jessie, pointing upwards. ‘The kudu going round and round? Ousies can see it.’ But Ousies was looking down at the fire.

The kudu was now moving so fast that it became blurry. It lifted off from the panel vans and was running in the air. It spiralled up and up, crossing the path of the ghost moon, and then rose higher still. I remembered that mantis, that praying mantis of Tata Radebe’s, which flew up and up.

I closed my eyes. My last thought before everything went very black and very quiet was that Tata had done the thing he needed to forgive himself, to set his spirit free. He had given up his life to save a good person.