Rachel Weeping (18 page)

Rachel's instinct told her to defend herself, to tell Chris that she didn't know how the earrings had found their way into her biscuit tin among her private things. She wanted to confront Michelle right there and then, in front of him, and force her to confess to the crime. But the thought of it all left her exhausted, with a physical heaviness she could feel pushing down on her shoulders. She was just too tired to protest and, as this final weight was placed on her, she gave in to the feeling and chose the way of least resistance.

‘I took them,' Rachel said.

The confession made no sense. She knew it and Michelle knew it too. But Rachel did not want to deny and nor did she want to beg. She could see that Michelle was thrown by the three simple words, as she would be.

Rachel looked Chris directly in the eye while she waited for him to respond. He seemed utterly bewildered.

‘But why, Rachel?' Chris asked. ‘You've never done anything like this before. What made you ...'

He was trying to provide her with a way out, an opportunity to say she had made a mistake or that she had lost her way and needed his help to get back on track. Chris would be able to handle someone in need of his mercy. But Rachel could not give him that. She looked back down at her feet and said nothing.

She heard Chris place the tin on the table and go and stand beside Michelle.

‘You do realise that we can't continue to employ you?' His voice was harder now.

Rachel nodded, still staring down at her feet.

‘I'll have to ask you to leave the property – I'll give you till Friday.'

Rachel nodded acceptance. She waited for her employers to leave the room. She looked up as they exited, her eyes briefly crossing Michelle's as she walked out behind Chris.

Michelle had won but in that second when their eyes met Rachel saw that her victory had come at a price. In that split second of eye contact she could see that Michelle derived no pleasure from what she had just orchestrated. This certain knowledge did nothing to soften Rachel's heart towards her employer but it helped her understand. Michelle had done it so that she could move forward. Just like Rachel, Michelle was trapped, too, and so she had done what she needed to do to free herself, even if by doing so she knew she was destroying the only chance Rachel had left to stay in South Africa and support her family.

 

 

 

Michelle followed Chris into the house, clutching the ultrasound and earrings in her hands as she tried to catch up with him. She was surprised at how swiftly he had dealt with the situation. She had expected him to take his time, to try and figure out the best way to handle it. She closed the door behind them and followed Chris's trail of discarded work clothes that led to the kitchen, automatically picking up his jacket and tie and anticipating the conversation that would follow.

Chris was standing in the breakfast nook, a beer in his hand, looking out into the garden. He turned to face Michelle and she saw how his eyes were filled with sadness. He was about to say something when his phone started ringing.

‘It's the office,' he said, glancing at the screen. ‘Hannes.' He put the phone to his ear. ‘What is it?'

Michelle half-listened as Chris talked to his colleague but she could see from his deflated bearing that whatever it was, it wasn't good news. She smoothed out the crumpled ultrasound and stuck it back in its place on the fridge door. She set the diamond earrings down on the counter top and proceeded to move around the kitchen straightening things until she heard Chris finish with the call.

‘They want me to go to Durban for two days,' Chris said, exasperated. ‘There's a problem with one of the buildings and the client wants face time with me. I can see if Lukas can go but he has no clue …'

‘It's okay. Go.'

Chris paused and looked at her, his eyes trying to read if she was being honest.

It wasn't the best of news but, after the way he had handled the situation with Rachel, Michelle reckoned it would be better if she didn't make any waves for him right now.

‘Seriously,' Michelle added. ‘It's fine.'

‘Durban's only an hour away. If there's any trouble, I'll be on the plane right back.'

Michelle nodded and Chris picked up the phone to call Hannes back.

‘Do you need me to help you with anything before you go?' Michelle asked as he waited for the call to connect.

‘No. I'll just throw a few things into a bag later.'

Chris turned round and looked out of the window into the garden again. Michelle stood beside him. The swimming pool was now so green you couldn't see the bottom.

‘We'll have to drain it,' Chris said. ‘The water's too dirty for us to save now.'

 

 

 

Rachel sat at her wooden table with a red pen in her hand, an open newspaper in front of her. The madness of the day was drawing to an end with the same object that had ushered it in: the Jobs section of the classifieds. The only difference was that she was the one making the red marks now, looking for employment in the employment offered section, which was considerably shorter than the section of people looking for work.

She scanned through the offers, realising with each one she read that the set-up she had with the Jordaans was a rare one. Most of the salaries on offer were half of what she was currently earning and many did not include on site accommodation. Most people in her situation would end up staying in shacks in the informal settlements that had sprung up on the outskirts of the city and take taxis in to the suburbs. Rachel shook her head as the reality of what was available took hold.

She had managed to raise the money that was needed for her father's medication by using up just about all her savings and selling the ring and her cellphone, but now she had nothing but the small pile of R100 notes to buffer herself. She anticipated that she would get one last paycheck out of the Jordaans but if she didn't find work within the next two weeks, she would be in trouble.

Rachel put the pen down and looked across at the urn that contained Maia's ashes, wondering how much she could get for the container, then shaking her head at the fact that she was even asking herself that question.

She was trapped.

 

 

 

His bag packed and presentation ready, Chris tossed some of the pillows from his bed in the guest room onto the floor, pulled the duvet back and climbed in. His head was pounding from the stress of the day. He closed his eyes in an attempt to alleviate the pain in his temple. He couldn't believe that things with Rachel had come to this. Stealing was something so far removed from her character – or what he'd thought he knew of her character – that he was struggling to accept that she had taken the earrings, despite her admission. He heard footsteps in the passage. Michelle was standing in the doorway, a mug of tea in her hands, ready to make her way to bed.

‘You comfortable?'

Chris plumped up his pillow and nodded. ‘Are you going to bed?'

‘Yes,' Michelle replied. ‘Do you need anything from the bedroom?'

Chris shook his head.

‘Why don't you come and sleep there?' Michelle suggested. ‘You know this bed always hurts your back.'

‘I'm leaving so early in the morning it's easier if I sleep here.'

‘Okay,' Michelle said. ‘Make sure you give me a call when you land.'

‘I will.'

With nothing left to say, Michelle stepped back into the passage.

‘Good night, Chris,' she said.

‘Night, Michelle. Sleep well.'

Michelle turned off the passage light and Chris lay back down. He felt for the switch on the bedside lamp and, picking up his smartphone, he saw that he had a message from Anja on WhatsApp.

I'll see you with coffee at arrivals at 8:15 Boss!

Two sugars :)
Chris typed back.

He set the alarm on his phone for 04:30, a wake-up time that was much too early for his liking.

 

 

 

The following morning brought with it an uneasy calm. Michelle had decided to wake up early so that she could make breakfast for Chris before he left for the airport. It was still dark outside but the arrival of spring made the task more bearable. Soon the smell of coffee and bacon filled the house. Chris had looked surprised at such industry but he gave Michelle a smile and took a piece of bacon from the pan and a piece of buttered toast.

‘Thanks, but I'm already late,' he said. ‘Call me if you need anything.'

His coffee stood untouched.

‘We'll be fine,' Michelle said, her hands on her belly. ‘You'd better get moving if you're going to beat the traffic.'

‘Are you sure you'll be okay?'

‘Go,' Michelle said. She handed Chris his jacket. ‘I'll be fine as long as you're back on Friday so that I don't have to deal with Rachel alone.'

Chris kissed her on the lips and took his jacket from her.

‘I'll call you when I land.'

Michelle walked her husband to the door and waved goodbye as he got into his car and reversed up the driveway. While this was no different to their usual morning routine these past months, she felt incredibly isolated as she went back to the kitchen.

With Rachel obviously not coming in to clean the house today, it was up to Michelle to clear things up, which had never been her favourite activity. As she leaned across the table to collect Chris's plate and still-full mug, she heard a crash. Her swollen belly had knocked the sugar bowl off the table. Hugo gave a shocked yelp and scuttled to his basket. Michelle stepped cautiously around the brown granules and shards of glass, trying to avoid getting cut while she looked for something to use to clean up the mess.

Where did Rachel keep the vacuum cleaner? Taking a chance, she made her way to the broom cupboard and there it was. She pulled it out and dragged it across the kitchen floor. Halfway through pulling out the electrical cable, she saw that it was a two-pronged plug. A quick scan of the outlets in the kitchen told her that she'd have to go searching for an adaptor. She couldn't think where there might be a spare but knew there was one in the study because her speakers and phone charger were connected to it. Sighing, she walked down the passage and crawled uncomfortably under her desk. She yanked the adaptor out and reversed out on her knees. Breathing hard and using the corner of the desk for leverage, she got clumsily to her feet and returned to the kitchen where, for the first time in years, she used the vacuum cleaner (which her parents had given to her and Chris when they moved into the house) to suck up the sugar and glass. She couldn't be bothered to put it back in the cupboard, but she took the adaptor back to the study. By the time she had shoved it into the wall socket under the desk, she was exhausted and her lower back was aching.

Rachel had spent her last few days at the Jordaans packing her bags and trying to see what she could get rid of before she left. Tapiwa had offered to keep some of her things for her until she found a new home but, as she looked at her two suitcases, she realised that she actually didn't own that much and wouldn't need to take up the offer. The bed and most of the furniture belonged to the Jordaans and she had given all of Maia's toys and clothes away the month after her passing to the children's home that the church ran from its property.

She had managed to arrange two interviews for the following week but now, with nearly all her stuff packed, she found she had nothing left to do but wait for her last day at the Jordaans to arrive. She had R500 to her name, barely enough to pay for accommodation anywhere, and had resigned herself to the fact that she would probably have to stay in the park, the one where she used to take Maia to play and where she had seen the little girl who was not Maia playing on the slide. Tapiwa's room was half the size of hers and Maria was still away, so the park it would have to be, at least until she managed to secure accommodation. She would clean herself in the public washrooms with the soap she had and she would try her best to keep her clothes from getting dirty so that she would be presentable for her interviews. Fortunately, the warmth of spring meant that the nights would not be as cold as they had been a few weeks ago but the idea of sleeping alone in a park was not something Rachel wanted to dwell on all the same.

At least Maia wasn't here to experience any of this.

It was late afternoon when she heard the doorbell ring and a few seconds later the side gate at the top of the driveway opened. She went over to the window and pulled back the curtain. A young black woman, roughly the same age as Rachel, had entered the property and was walking down the driveway. She stopped halfway down and look around, obviously trying to work out exactly where to go.

Her replacement.

Michelle was certainly not wasting any time.

Before Rachel was able to duck back, the woman saw her standing at the window and waved hello at her, but instead of returning the greeting she quickly drew the curtain. She sat down abruptly on her bed. She could hear Michelle's voice now, calling out pleasantly and directing the woman towards the house. Rachel waited for silence to return to the driveway before taking up her viewing point at the window once more.

In the distance she heard the low rumble of thunder, an ominous sound, but one that heralded the first rain of the season. She opened the window and breathed in deeply, the peppery scent of the approaching storm sharp in her nostrils.

Johannesburg was famous for its electrical storms, huge celestial displays of light and noise that would rip through the skies and could wreak considerable havoc. She had even seen trees uprooted and nearly every summer there would be reports of flooding somewhere, usually affecting the overcrowded informal settlements close to the rivers. Having never experienced these kinds of storms in Inhassoro, with lightning searing across the sky and the sharp crack of thunder that followed it, Rachel had a wary respect for their power but more than that, storms terrified her. Despite Michelle and Chris's reassurances over the years, she'd never come to terms with them. She steadfastly refused to go outside when a storm was raging, to the point that she would sit most of a storm out on a chair in her room, or in the kitchen if she was still working, or in her bed so that her feet were not touching the ground.