Robert parked his black Mercedes C230 on the verge at a roadside coffee shop in Barrydale, locking it with the remote. It was early and the waitresses were wiping tables and positioning bowls of sugar sachets on the wooden tables. There was smoke coming from a chimney in the restaurant and he was tempted to take a table by the fire. But the morning was clear and with the sun streaming on to the stoep, he opted for the outside. He was dressed in a grey business suit that was inappropriate for the Little Karoo winter and he wished he had gloves and a thick jersey.
The road was quiet and he had enjoyed the drive, pushing the speed. That was what he loved about the car – and the sound system. It was what he deserved. The only way to get out of Cape Town on a weekday was to leave before the traffic, so he had pulled out of the apartment’s parking at 5 a.m., cut along the Foreshore and was flying up the N1 to the tunnel long before sunrise. His father would be asleep for a couple of hours still so he had switched off the ringtone on his iPhone and turned up the music.
These projects needed thinking through. Without a plan they went awry. That’s what was happening in Oudtshoorn. He should have grabbed the reins sooner, but there was always so much on the go. It wasn’t a major problem, there were ways to sort things out quickly.
He ordered a cappuccino from a hot little waitress. She wore a huge scarf round her neck that covered her mouth but when she served him she pulled it down with a gloved hand and grinned, “Wil Meneer ietsie hê om te eet?”
He wasn’t hungry but he smiled anyway and rubbed his hands to keep warm.
“No, just hurry up with the cappuccino.” She gathered up the menu and walked off slowly, turning and smiling at him from the restaurant door. If he had the time or the interest he would have taken her number. They were all pushovers when they saw the car.
Despite the early hour there were five missed calls on his iPhone, all from the same number. He tapped the phone’s reply button and put it to his ear.
“Pappa? Relax, man, I am on my way.”
A muffled squawk broke the morning peace. Clearly the old man wasn’t managing his usual morning lie-in.
“I just pulled into Barrydale.”
His father wasn’t listening.
“I needed coffee.”
He closed his eyes and sighed loudly. It really was too early for this.
“At least another hour and a half, Pa.”
More squawking – higher pitched this time.
“Okay, okay, don’t stress.”
The coffee came and he stood up and walked to the edge of the stoep, sipping it as he watched a boy with a stick chase cows over the road. His lips curled in disgust as he watched the heavy creatures lumber past. God, they stank. A minute later he lost interest and thought about the mess waiting for him. A tour bus pulled up next to the Merc and tourists, with cameras slung around their necks, all speaking German, began climbing out. He caught the waitress’s eye and she brought the bill. Before the tourists sat down, he was on his way.