CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR

‘Jislaaik, Tannie M,’ said Jessie, ‘this West African food is awesome. What do you call it again?’

‘Mafé,’ I said.

‘You say it’s made with peanut butter?’ said Dirk, as he spooned the chicken mafé into his boy’s mouth. ‘No wonder Jamie likes it so much.’

Jamie’s blue eyes were bright and his blond hair neatly combed. He grinned and clapped his hands together. Next to his wheelchair sat a short man wearing white – he was the nurse from the special needs home. He was gobbling up the food too.

We were all inside the laager of panel vans and thorn trees. The chairs were not in a circle but were all higgledy-piggledy as people had moved them to chat with each other. It was a still, autumn evening, and the sun was thinking about setting.

Henk and Reghardt sat a bit away from us, drinking beer and chatting to Ricus, who had Esmeralda wrapped around his neck. Ricus made a joke, and Henk laughed.

Henk and I had greeted each other politely earlier, and I’d raised my eyebrow at Jessie, who winked at me. That Jessie. She must have invited him.

Beyond the talking and laughter of the guests you could hear the birds. They always seem to have a lot to say to each other just before sunset. On the thorn tree nearby was a bokmakierie pumping out a beautiful song from deep in its chest. I couldn’t hear a reply from its mate.

‘I know this food,’ said Fadhi. ‘You cooked it well.’

He was eating with one hand, while the other was held by his devoted husband, Ahmed. Fadhi wore a purple shirt and pressed black trousers, and Ahmed was too busy admiring him to pay attention to much else.

Piet and Oom Jan (wearing his waistcoat with its rabbit-ear collar) squatted by the fire, chatting to Nick and Ousies. Jessie told me they were discussing plans for the Bushman nature reserve.

‘I thought they’d get along,’ Jessie said. She must have invited Jan too.

As the sun was setting and the sky turned the red of that rusted metal that you find in the veld, Mielie brought in the whole herd of sheep to say goodnight. The light dyed their wool a pinkish colour. Kosie went straight to Henk, and the Colonel came to greet me. Ricus whistled, and Mielie herded them out again.

When the dust settled, I stood up to fetch our pudding, which was still in my bakkie. It was also a recipe from my Scottish friend. Before I left the circle, Ousies pointed and Ricus said, ‘Look. The moon.’

We all turned and watched the fat yellow moon rising over a low hill. It lit up the Karoo veld and the slopes of the Swartberge. It even reached as far as the Langeberge. And the thorn trees and the cars, and all of us, were washed in moonlight.

I went to my car and took the biscuit tin from the front seat. As I closed my door, I turned to see Henk had followed me.

‘Jessie was right,’ he said. ‘It is stupid to lose you because I’m scared of losing you.’

He stepped forward and took the tin from my hand.

‘Will you forgive me?’ he said.

The tin was full of heart-shaped shortbread biscuits.

The full moon of forgiveness shone down on us.

I got back to my house before Henk. He was dropping Piet home before coming to me. The food I had cooked had been polished off at the feast. I sat on my stoep with my empty pot and my empty tin, feeling not at all empty myself.

I looked at my garden, the moonlit leaves of the lemon tree, and out at the veld, at the shadow that lay like a dark pool beside the gwarrie tree.

A leopard walked onto my lawn. Its honey and black patterns looked softer than velvet. I thought it might be worth hanging on to some of those pills so I could enjoy such sights again. Henk’s car arrived, and the leopard looked in that direction but did not move.

Henk walked down the footpath, and we saw each other in the moonlight.

‘Maria!’ he shouted, reaching for the gun on his belt.

The leopard disappeared.

‘Did you see it?’ Henk said. ‘The leopard.’

‘Yes. I didn’t think you could see it; I thought it was from the pills . . .’

He was on the stoep, holding me.

‘That was lucky,’ I said.

‘Ja. Imagine, after all you’ve been through . . . to be killed by a leopard on your front stoep.’

‘Shows you. Staying at home doing nothing can be dangerous. But no, what I meant was, how lucky to see such a beautiful creature up close.’

Henk held me tighter and looked down into my eyes. ‘My beautiful creature,’ he said.

I put my hand on his chest, in the gap where his shirt fell open. His heart was thudding hard. A fiery-necked nightjar called. The bright, liquid song rippled through me.

‘I was thinking,’ I said, ‘that tonight you might get lucky.’

We went inside.

We made love.

My, oh my.