Rachel Weeping (14 page)

chapter 18

Rachel was at
the two-plate stove stirring the porridge, while Maia sat at the table, scribbling furiously on a piece of paper with a blue crayon. The rest of her brightly coloured art kit laying scattered around her. Rachel had already warned her what would happen if she went off the page onto the table. Today Maia was wearing the sparkly green and blue princess dress Michelle and Chris had given her for her fifth birthday. She had immediately called it her mermaid costume because it was the same colour as the sea and vaguely like the tail of her Barbie doll, although Barbie's spangles were wearing off fast. At first she had tried to wear it every day but Rachel had put her foot down for the sake of cleanliness and told her that it was only allowed to be brought out on Mondays.

‘That's pretty,' Rachel said, looking over her daughter's shoulder.

‘It's our family,' Maia explained. ‘And we're all at the sea, with Granny and Grandpa ...'

Rachel carried the pot to the table and began to dish up their breakfast. Maia kept on drawing. She had finished the ocean and was busy drawing the beach sand now in very bright yellow, her tongue sticking out from between her lips as she concentrated on drawing a straight line.

Rachel put the empty pot back on the stove and shifted her chair beside Maia's. She pulled the sugar bowl towards her and sprinkled a tablespoon of white sugar over each of their bowls, before placing the bowl out of Maia's reach. Maia put down her crayon and they held hands and gave thanks for the meal. Then she stirred the sugar into her porridge and waited for it to cool, just as her mother had taught her.

Rachel's visa appointment at Home Affairs was at 10:30, although that didn't always mean anything. She was feeling anxious already, knowing that she had a time limit and had to be back at the Jordaans by 1.30. She had gone through all her paperwork the night before and made sure that she had the exact amount of money and that everything was in order. She had learned from experience almost every time she'd been to Home Affairs that the visa officers could be incredibly temperamental and that anything from using the wrong colour pen to not having the exact amount of change could put them in a bad mood.

‘I have to go into town today, Maia,' Rachel said, blowing on a spoonful of porridge. ‘Michelle said that she will look after you while she works.'

Maia nodded and copied her mother, her little cheeks puffing out as she blew on her porridge, her eyes squinting down the length of her spoon.

‘You're going to have to promise me that you'll behave yourself.'

Maia nodded and opened her mouth to swallow the porridge.

‘Careful, it's still hot,' Rachel said, as usual. ‘Blow on it a bit more.'

Maia stopped and obediently pursed her lips.

‘Can you take me to the park when you come back?' she asked.

Realising that her daughter was trying to bargain a reward for her good behaviour, Rachel had to suppress a smile.

‘If the sun is still shining when I get home, then yes, I will,' she said.

Maia smiled and brought the spoon to her mouth, first looking at Rachel to see if it was time to start eating.

‘That's my girl,' Rachel said and did the same.

 

 

 

Michelle stood in front of the espresso machine, watching the dark brown liquid trickle down into the two white mugs she had warmed up in the microwave. She drank unsweetened cappuccino in the morning, while Chris preferred his black and usually laced with sugar. He used to take it with three spoons of sugar but she'd noticed that since he'd been back at the gym, he had cut sugar out completely, something she'd never managed to get him to do. She walked over to the fridge to get some milk. The carton was there, but it was empty. She threw it in the trashcan. She carried the mugs over to the counter and sat down. At that moment Chris walked into the kitchen, laptop open, trying clumsily to proofread one of his reports. His eyes lit up when he saw the coffee and he walked over to Michelle and kissed her on the head.

‘I asked you to get milk yesterday,' Michelle said.

‘Are we out?'

Michelle nodded. She reached for one of the bran muffins she'd bought from the market the day before, broke off a piece and popped it in her mouth.

‘I'll get some today,' Chris promised. ‘Just text me to remind me.'

He closed his laptop and broke off a piece of the muffin Michelle was eating, smiling at her as he chewed.

‘Anything else happening today that I need to know about?' Chris asked, his mouth full. ‘Oh yes, we've got Maia this morning, haven't we?'

‘
I've
got Maia,' Michelle said. ‘
You
are going to the office.'

‘Sorry,' Chris said ruefully.

‘And we've got dinner with the Elliotts at that spot in Linden …'

‘Daddy!'

Michelle turned around to see Maia running into the kitchen with a big smile on her face, her arms stretched out towards Chris. Rachel was just behind her. She looked embarrassed.

‘Daddy?' Chris said, bending down to pick Maia up and give her a hug.

‘I'm sorry about that,' Rachel said. ‘She hears the other children at school calling their fathers “Daddy” and thinks that's what all older men are called.'

Maia beamed around the room while Chris began to tickle her, making Michelle and Rachel laugh and Maia squirm and giggle.

‘Well, that's a relief,' Chris said. ‘If you ever want to give a man a fright, then walk through his front door with a child he doesn't know who calls him Daddy.'

He put Maia down and slipped his laptop into its bag. He hitched the bag around his shoulder and prepared to leave. Rachel guided Maia towards Michelle, her caretaker for the morning.

‘Thank you for helping me today,' she said.

‘It's not a problem,' Michelle replied.

Maia twirled for Michelle in her princess dress and Michelle smiled at her.

‘Would you like to be my secretary today?' she asked.

Maia nodded enthusiastically.

‘Do you know what a secretary is?' Rachel said.

With a wide smile, Maia shook her head.

‘Well, that's okay,' Michelle told her. She pulled out a chair and helped the little girl up onto it. ‘You just take a seat here and I'll tell you about it when your mother goes. Being a secretary is a very important job.' She smiled up at Rachel. ‘I think we'll be good,' she said. ‘But please just make sure you're back at 2 o'clock at the very latest.'

Rachel nodded as she gathered her things. ‘Thank you again.'

‘How are you getting to Home Affairs, Rachel?' Chris asked as he bent down to kiss Michelle goodbye.

‘I'm going to walk to the taxi rank and then take a taxi.'

‘At least let me give you a lift to the taxi rank. It's in the direction I'm heading anyway.'

‘It's okay, Chris,' Rachel replied. ‘I'll be fine.'

‘Nonsense. You're getting a lift. Now let's go.'

Rachel hesitated. The Jordaans were already being so helpful, she didn't want to impose. Maia slid off her chair and began to push her towards Chris.

‘Go, Mama, go!'

‘Now that's more like it,' Chris said. ‘Listen to your daughter.' He winked at Michelle and looked expectantly at Rachel.

Reluctantly, Rachel followed him to the front door, Maia tagging after them, hopping from one leg to the other.

‘Remember to be home at seven,
lief
,' Michelle called out. ‘We need to be there at eight …' She paused to listen if Chris had heard her, but the silence told her he probably hadn't. Maia was hovering in the doorway, chewing on the end of her sleeve.

‘Why don't you jump back up here, Maia,' Michelle said, patting the chair next to her. ‘You look so pretty today.'

‘I'm a princess,' Maia explained, a little more solemn now that the two of them were alone.

‘You certainly are,' Michelle said. ‘And today you are also my secretary.'

Maia took her seat and gazed expectantly at Michelle, who reached over for the sheets of office paper she had ready. She put a pen on the table in front of her.

‘A secretary helps a boss with their work,' Michelle explained, opening her laptop. ‘They take notes and help them when they need things. And, when they're done with their work, they get to have a nice lunch
and
... a fancy coffee, just like a grown up.'

Maia's eyes lit up at the mention of coffee – coffee was something her mother would never have allowed. Michelle smiled serenely back at her. She knew there wasn't a chance in hell she was really going to give Maia coffee but she had seen with her friends' children how all they really wanted to do was drink sweet milk foam from a fancy coffee cup. She was more than willing to feed that fantasy if it bought her a few hours of good behaviour.

‘Let's get to work, shall we?' Michelle said with a glance at the kitchen clock.

 

chapter 19

Michelle stood in
the doorway to the kitchen, her back aching from her heavy belly. It was late in the afternoon and she had spent most of the day obsessing about the missing ultrasound. She had turned her office inside out and checked beneath the fridge three times. She watched Rachel wiping down the kitchen counters and her eyes narrowed slightly. There was only one other thing that could have happened to the ultrasound.

She had thought about trying just to forget about it but she couldn't. And the more she obsessed, the more frustrated she became by the fact that she was being held hostage by the guilt that existed inside her because of Rachel. In a normal situation she would have simply asked Rachel outright if she had seen the missing item but, with all that had happened in the last few months, Michelle felt guilty about everything when it came to Rachel. She couldn't even complain if Rachel hadn't emptied the dishwasher or forgotten to disinfect the outside trashcans. She couldn't question anything the maid did these days.

‘Rachel, I need to ask you about something.'

Michelle watched as Rachel turned to face her, her eyes unresponsive. Michelle took a step towards her, trying to be firm without appearing confrontational.

‘Have you seen the photo of the baby that was on the fridge?'

Rachel shook her head, looking back at Michelle with those tired eyes that haunted Michelle when she tried to sleep at night.

‘Are you sure?' Michelle asked. ‘It was stuck with a magnet on the fridge door and now it's gone. I thought that maybe it had fallen off or you had seen it when you were cleaning.'

‘I haven't seen it.'

Michelle tried to read Rachel's expression or body language to see if she was being deceived. It was a stupid thing to lie about but Michelle did sense, minutely, that something was moving behind Rachel's emotionless facade.

‘Okay,' she said, searching Rachel's stare one last time.

She was about to leave the kitchen when she noticed a piece of paper sticking out of the front pocket of Rachel's uniform. There was something about its texture and colour ... She stopped.

‘What's that?' she asked, nodding at the pocket.

Rachel followed her gaze. She looked Michelle direct in the eyes.

‘Nothing,' she said.

Michelle took a step towards her. She knew she was about to cross a line.

‘What is it?' she repeated. ‘In your pocket.'

Rachel stared back at her in silence, her jaw clenched, but her hand had moved to her chest and she held it against her pocket. Michelle took another step forward. Slowly, she extended her arm, her fingers outstretched. She could feel the heat of Rachel's body but Rachel did not move a muscle, except to press her hand more tightly against her chest. Michelle reached in and, the tips of her manicured nails almost brushing Rachel's cheek, she eased the piece of paper from Rachel's pocket. It slid softly past Rachel's unresisting fingers.

Rachel's whole body was quivering now but she held Michelle's gaze, hands resting by her sides, and even when her employer looked down and unfolded the paper she did not move.

Michelle knew even as she was unfolding it that she had made a huge miscalculation, but her expression remained stony. She was incapable of showing even a hint of remorse. She slowly folded Maia's cheerful ocean drawing back to its original shape and placed it on the counter next to Rachel before she turned to leave.

She heard not a sound behind her as she left the room and went to her study.

 

 

 

Rachel was shaking. She felt fixed to the spot as if her shoes were nailed there. Her heart pounded and her head was bursting with conflicting emotions. One of these emotions, as she was more than aware, was pure guilt. The knowledge that she had stolen the ultrasound, that moment of unexplainable impulse, had weighed heavily on her conscience at the time and it still did. Another emotion was deep, hot anger mixed with outrage. Michelle had had no right to invade her personal space and take the picture from her, no matter how justified she thought she might have been in the action (and was, although Michelle didn't know it, of course). Her mind spinning, Rachel tried to get a fix on just how far things had fallen out of control. Automatically, she picked up a dishcloth and started to wipe down the counter as she tried to process what had just happened between her and Michelle.

Was this normal? Was this how people treated each other?

She sprayed the counter with Mr Min and rubbed hard at a mark left by a piece of dried food. The stubborn stain resisted. She sprayed a jab of liquid directly on it and kept scrubbing until a wave of nausea hit her. What was wrong with her?

Michelle had just violated her privacy and her immediate response was to start cleaning the house. Where was her self-respect? When was the point when she would say enough is enough?

She wasn't some empty-headed immigrant these people could treat like a child. She was a human being, a woman entitled to respect and dignity. She and Michelle were the same age, for heaven's sake! Never in a million years had she envisioned herself in this kind of situation and, for the first time since Maia's death, she wanted to pack her bags and disappear. No one would look for her; she could just vanish. As she thought about disappearing her mind started to wander. She imagined herself leaving the gas stove on in the kitchen, striking a match and walking away as everything that Chris and Michelle held dear disintegrated – whoof! – in a single moment.

To make them feel the loss that she felt.

 

 

 

Chris dipped the testing kit into the green water and pulled out a sample to analyse.

‘It's too acidic,' he said, turning around to look up at Richmond, who was standing behind him watching the process with feigned interest. Richmond just stared at him; the word was not contained in his lexicon of English words.

‘It's … uh … the water is bitter,' Chris tried to explain, ‘like there's poison in it.'

Richmond nodded to show that he understood but Chris was pretty sure he hadn't managed to explain it well enough. He frowned down at the pool's murkiness and tried to think of what he needed to do in order to neutralise the problem. In his mind you just added more chlorine and the problem would be solved, but they'd tried that and it didn't seem to be working.

He straightened up and shrugged. ‘I'll fix it later,' he told Richmond confidently, although he wasn't confident at all. In the study he went online to search for information on how to fix an acidic pool. As he scrolled through the different options he heard the ping of a notification and opened his Facebook account. It was a comment from a random friend on a video he had posted earlier. After acknowledging the interaction with a like, he navigated his way to Anja's profile to see if there had been any new activity. There was a new photograph, one he hadn't seen before. Anja and another young woman drinking cocktails on an urban rooftop. The friend was blonde and had something about her. He clicked on the tag to open her profile.

Elize de Waal.

Blonde hair and honey skin. Like Anja's, Elize's profile had no security restrictions either, and Chris began to scroll through her photographs. She looked a little wilder than Anja, he thought. She'd be the girl who was first to order the shooters, and the girl who closed down the club. He arrived at some photographs of her on a beach. Her supple body was barely covered by the small two-piece she was wearing. Her hair was wet from the ocean and grains of sand clung to her tan as she stared provocatively into the camera, posing with the skill and poise of a Sports Illustrated model.

Chris zoomed in on the photograph and gazed at it for a long time. He felt his pants grow tighter. Michelle was on the other side of the house and he paused for a moment, trying to weigh up the chances of her walking in on him. He looked again at the photograph of Elize on the beach. Then, in one swift movement, he pushed his chair back, stepped across to close the study door, and returned to his position in front of the computer.

 

 

 

The week had passed quickly and Rachel was busy mopping the tiles in the main entrance when she heard the buzzer for the intercom to the front gate. She ignored the sound and continued mopping, assuming that it was one of the beggars who would often ring during the day asking for a ‘piece job' or charity. The buzzer rang once more, this time more persistently, and Rachel placed the mop in the water bucket. She wiped the sweat from her forehead and picked up the receiver.

‘Hello.'

‘Hello, Rachel? It's Karlien here. Michelle's friend?'

‘Mrs Jordaan isn't here. She went out with Mrs Am -'

‘Oh, I know,' Karlien said over the crackling intercom, cutting Rachel
off mid-sentence. ‘We wanted to get her out of the house so that we could set up a surprise for her. Can you open up and let us
in?'

Rachel paused for a moment as she tried to think whether she was allowed to let them in, knowing that she didn't really have a choice in the matter. She pushed the button on the intercom that opened the front gate and moved the mop out the way so that she could open the security gate to let the visitors in. She looked up the driveway and watched as several cars drove in, expensive vehicles that shone in the mid-morning sunlight. Car doors opened and well-dressed women emerged from them, greeting each other through designer sunglasses and with whitened smiles. They carried an array of things: trays of finger-snacks, bottles of wine and a variety of pastel gift bags.

Rachel stepped forward to greet Karlien, who was trying to juggle a tray of sausage rolls and lock her car at the same time. She and Karlien had met occasionally but had rarely spent any time in each others' company. She liked her, though, this woman with glossy dark hair and fair skin. She had sent Rachel a bouquet of flowers when she heard about Maia. The next time she'd come to the house to see Michelle, she had taken the time to ask Rachel how she was doing. She seemed like a nice woman, even from behind the line that separated them.

‘
Ag
, thanks, Rachel. It's good to see you.' Karlien was taking strain, trying to negotiate the uneven steps in her very high heels. ‘We have about an hour to set this all up. Do you think you could give us a hand?'

Rachel nodded. She grabbed the tray of sausage rolls so that Karlien wouldn't break her neck. The other women followed, murmuring greetings with averted eyes as they walked past Rachel and into the house. Rachel had got used to this. They were all speaking to each other in rapid Afrikaans, a gust of words that flew clean over her head. They obviously all knew what had happened and were trying their best to be respectful of her while still enjoying themselves.

In the lounge some of Michelle's friends were arranging presents and erecting a giant ‘IT'S A ???' banner over the fireplace. The others were in the kitchen, taking clingwrap off platters and opening cupboards to find glasses.

The lounge was almost ready when Karlien received a text message on her smartphone and she held up her hand. ‘Shhhh,' she said. A couple of the women suppressing squeals, the friends all stopped what they were doing and started darting around the room. Rachel looked on, confused. Then she realised that for some reason they were all looking for places to hide. They scrambled behind couches and cabinets, their outfits and heels not making it easy.

Rachel went into one of the adjacent rooms and stayed there, where she could still see what was going on in the lounge. She heard keys moving in the front gate and watched as the door opened to reveal a blindfolded Michelle being led into the house by her friend Chantelle, who had a big smile on her face.

‘Almost there,' Chantelle said as she guided Michelle through the house towards the lounge. ‘Mind the step.'

Chantelle positioned Michelle in the middle of the room and paused for a moment in an attempt to build the suspense.

‘Okay. Take it off now,' she said.

Michelle did as she was instructed. She pulled off the blindfold and blinked around the room. She looked dazed. At that precise moment all her friends jumped out from their hiding places, throwing streamers and confetti over her.

‘SURPRISE!'

Michelle started to laugh. ‘What on – What are you
doing
?' she said, squinting her eyes and putting her arms over her head as confetti rained down on her.

‘It's your baby shower!' Karlien said. She stepped forward and placed a crown on Michelle's head that read ‘Mom of the Year'.

Then Chantelle grabbed Michelle by the hand and led her towards the couch in the middle of the festivities. Michelle laughed as she greeted her friends individually, and gradually the noise levels in the room reached something like fever pitch. They exchanged jokes and pastries, everyone talking over each other with infectious enthusiasm, all of them wanting to get a chance to talk to their friend who had insisted on being so reclusive for most of her pregnancy.

Rachel, coming into the lounge with the warmed up sausage rolls, flinched when she heard her name mentioned in the flood of Afrikaans. She saw Michelle look up at her, noticing her presence for the first time. Karlien took the tray from her hands and said, ‘I was just telling Michelle how you let us in and helped set everything up.'

‘
Dankie
,
Rachel,' Michelle said. ‘I appreciate it.'

The women excitedly started to hand Michelle her gifts, urging her to open them so that they could witness her reactions. Rachel retreated to the kitchen, their laughter growing softer as she left the room. She walked over to the counter and leaned against it, closing her eyes and exhaling as she tried to control her feelings. She heard footsteps from behind and inhaled deeply. By the time she turned around her face was a mask.

‘Oh, there you are.' It was Karlien, peeking around the door. ‘It's time for us to have the cake. Can you help me bring it out?'