Recipes for Love and Murder (39 page)

‘Isn't it about time . . . ?' said Hattie.

‘Fanie put me off men.'

‘He was a rotter. Not all men are like that, you know.'

‘I know, I know. But my heart is kind of . . . closed.'

‘Give him a chance, Maria.'

‘We'll see. Can you drop me at Dirk's farm? My bakkie is there. Your indicator is on.'

She turned her indicator off, but switched her hazard lights on. I didn't tell her. I think it was for the best.

Dirk's house was dark.

‘I wonder where he is,' said Hattie.

‘He might not be back yet, we drove here quite fast.'

‘Fast? Perhaps he's with Anna. I wonder if they're still working together to drive one car.'

‘Dankie, skat,' I said and kissed her cheek.

‘I'm quite pooped, Maria. I'm sure you are too. Have something to eat and a rest. I'll see you in the morning.'

She drove off, her hazards still flashing.

My blue bakkie was waiting patiently under the gum tree. On the passenger seat was my tin of rusks.

‘The Spar manager was the murderer,' I told the rusks as we drove. ‘He nearly killed me, but Henk shot him. Dead. We found Jessie. Alive. But injured and unconscious. It could be bad. We are going to the hospital now. This time you lot are coming in with me.'

CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE

Jessie was in the Intensive Care Unit. The ICU waiting room was full. Lots of the people who had been at the search were there. Reghardt was pacing up and down, wearing a path in the linoleum. There was no sign of Kannemeyer.

‘How is she?' I asked.

Reghardt shook his head and bit his lip. His long eyelashes were wet.

‘The doctor is coming to talk to us now-now,' he said.

There was a big urn and Jessie's younger sister, Juanita, was making cups of tea. I helped her pass them around to everyone. Anna took out her silver hipflask and added a shot to her cup, and then to Dirk's. I gave Juanita my tin of beskuit and she handed that around too. It was empty in thirty seconds. I suppose most of us had not had supper. Dirk's head fell back and he started his warthog snoring. We heard footsteps coming down the hallway, and Anna elbowed Dirk in the ribs. He sat up, snorting. Jessie's mother jumped up. She was not in uniform, but in a blue dress. Her clothes were fresh and clean, while mine were creased and muddy. But her face looked so crumpled.

The doctor arrived and we all turned to him like flowers to the sun. A very black sun in a white coat.

‘Can I have a word with just the family?'

Most of us got up and moved towards him.

‘Oh, okay. I'll address you all, if that's all right with you?'

He looked at Sister Mostert and she nodded.

‘Jessie's condition is critical. Her leg injury and the place where the arrow hit her shoulder are not too severe. There is some infection, but it's under control . . . for now. The problem is the blood loss. She lost a lot of blood. Her heart stopped for a while and we got it going again. She's still in a coma. If she comes through, our biggest concern is brain damage.'

Jessie's mother clutched a fist to her heart. The doctor started talking in difficult medical language about the danger of ‘coning' and ‘neural probes' and things I did not understand and did not want to understand.

I closed my eyes and sent my love to Jessie. I could see it flowing into her, red like pomegranate juice. Like blood.

‘Only one visitor at a time,' the doctor was saying now in normal English. ‘And only those closest to her. Sister Mostert and Officer Snyman will monitor who goes in. She is in a coma, but there's a small possibility that she can hear you. So, please, only say encouraging things to her.'

People came and went from the waiting room, but I kept sitting. My eyes were closed a lot of the time but I wasn't sleeping; I was on the phone to Jessie:

Jessie, my girl, you're going to be just fine. That horrible man is dead. We got him. And you are in the hospital getting better. I'm going to make you the best chocolate cake you have ever eaten. And have you tasted my chicken soup? That will get you healthy in no time. And then you can eat all your favourite things: like bobotie and koeksisters.

I opened my eyes – the waiting room was almost empty. Anna and Dirk were still there. Anna passed out in her wheelchair, and Dirk snoring on the couch. Reghardt was sitting upright, his eyes red, his mouth a tight line.

I carried on my call to Jessie:

When you're ready I'll make a big feast for you with roast lamb and potatoes and vetkoek and mince. And salads: potato, and three-bean and carrot with pineapple. And coffee and koeksisters and chocolate cake. And bread with apricot jam, of course. Ooh, you will eat so lekker, your tummy will be round like a potjiepot.

I heard footsteps and saw Jessie's mother coming towards us. It was just me and Reghardt in the waiting room. Now Sister Mostert's dress was as creased as her face. Reghardt jumped to his feet.

‘You can go in now,' she said. ‘I'm going home to try and sleep.'

I closed my eyes again. A while later I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I woke, saying, ‘Henk . . . '

It was Reghardt.

‘Kannemeyer was here,' he said. ‘He didn't want to disturb you.'

‘Is she okay?' I asked.

‘The same,' he said. ‘You can go in for a bit if you want. Then I can give you a ride home. He said I should give you a ride home.'

‘No, I'll be fine to drive. But I do want to see her, even just for a minute.'

‘All right, then I'll sit with her till morning. Her sister's coming early.'

I went through the big swinging doors of the ICU and washed my hands with liquid soap. Then a nurse showed me to Jessie's bed. Attached to Jessie were drips and pipes, and beeping machines with numbers and moving green lines. Her left upper arm was bandaged, and her right knee and shin had dressings on them. Repairing the damage done by his car and arrow. There was a plastic mask over her face and a machine helping her breathe.

She was lying very still. The nurse left me alone and I sat on the chair beside the bed. Jessie looked so weak and pale; I wanted to rip out all the wires and tubes and hold her to me like a baby. I put my hand on hers. It was hot and still.

I watched her chest as it rose and fell with the breathing machine.

‘Well, we caught him, Jessie,' I said. ‘He's dead now. We make a good team. You and me. And Hats. The police helped too. Reghardt really loves you, you know. We all love you. Our girl with the gecko tattoo, hey?'

I looked at the ink gecko on her shoulder that wasn't bandaged. I had never seen it lying so still. I patted her hand. Her breath rose and fell.

‘Now you just need to get better. I'll be making you your favourite chocolate cake.' Her fingers twitched. ‘First thing in the morning.'

Reghardt stood at the foot of the bed. Then he came and put his hand on her forehead and brushed her hair back. I saw the look on his face as he stroked her hair. It cracked my heart right open.

CHAPTER EIGHTY-SIX

My house was very quiet and empty. No police guard. No Kannemeyer.

I made a piece of bread and jam and took it to the couch.

There were dents in the cushions where Kannemeyer had slept. The couch smelled of him. I was so tired, I lay down, just for a second. I lay down in the shape he had made in the cushions. Was I stupid to think that he and I . . . ? I was the one who had taken the step forward in the bathroom, pressed myself against him. But he had said I was lovely. Maybe he was just being nice about the veldskoene and panty combination. Maybe he didn't mean anything by it . . . He was only doing his job. And now that job was over.

How could I even be thinking about him, with Jessie, lying there, almost dead? Almost dead, but with a man who loved her . . .

I lay in the cushion curves of Kannemeyer's shape. I fitted just fine. I fell asleep in those curves.

When I woke the sunlight was falling in through the open window in the lounge. The phone was ringing. It was Hattie.

‘She's come around. She's talking. She's going to be okay.'

I could not say anything because I was crying. Why does good news make me cry?

‘She's asking for you . . . '

I swallowed.

‘I'm on my way.'

I washed off my mud and sleep in a quick shower. My legs were sore from all that walking. I brushed my hair, but did not even put on lipstick or have coffee.

In the hospital, Jessie was propped up on some pillows. When she saw me a big grin filled her face, but she was so weak she could not keep it for long.

‘Jessie,' I said, holding her hand.

‘We did it, Tannie Maria,' she said. ‘We got the bastard.'

I squeezed her fingers. She squeezed back and closed her eyes.

‘I dreamt of your chocolate cake,' she said, a smile lifting her cheeks again for a second.

One arm lay across her chest, her fingers resting on the gecko tattoo on her other arm. She touched the head of the gecko as if she was about to stroke it, but then she fell asleep.

I went to the Spar to get the ingredients I needed. I was still planning what to buy as I pushed my trolley down the aisle. I would need flour for the chocolate cake, of course. But also ingredients for chicken soup; a person cannot live on cake alone. And flour for beskuit. I needed to make a lot more rusks. I stopped and looked at a 2.5kg bag of Eureka Stone Ground Flour. I picked it up. And then I saw him. Henk Kannemeyer. He was at the other end of the aisle.

I thought he saw me too, but he couldn't have, because he disappeared instead of coming over.

I would make him a cake as well. A nice big chocolate cake for him and Piet and Reghardt. Still holding the bag of flour to my chest, I walked to the next aisle. There he was.

‘Henk,' I said.

I smiled at him. Now I was sorry I had not put on my lipstick. But he had seen me looking worse, and still said I was lovely.

He looked away and then looked back at me, as if he was not pleased to have been spotted. Perhaps he was there undercover. No, that's silly, everyone in Ladismith knows who he is.

I walked up to him and said, ‘She's fine. She's going to be okay.'

‘Yes,' he said, looking down at me. ‘I heard. I am glad.'

‘I'm shopping for her cake. Chocolate cake. And I am going to make you one too.'

‘Oh, no, please don't worry.'

He was looking up and down the aisle again. Was he avoiding someone? I hugged the flour to my breast.

‘But you have been such a help. Looking after me and all. You saved my life, Henk.'

‘Mrs van Harten, I was just doing my job.'

He looked at me and he had that sadness in his eyes.

‘Yes. You're right. You were just doing your job.'

I took a step back, and bumped into the tins behind me. Two tins of strawberry jam rolled off the shelves and I dropped the 2.5kg packet of flour. It burst all over the floor.

Detective Kannemeyer bent down to try and pick it up.

The floor manager with the skull face came running.

‘Oh dear,' he said.

‘I'm sorry,' said the detective.

‘No, it was my fault,' I said.

The detective and the manager were both trying to clean up. I just stood there, unable to move.

‘Sorry,' said Kannemeyer again.

‘Don't worry,' said the manager.

‘It's my fault. I was stupid,' I said.

‘We'll clean it up,' said the manager.

‘It's such a mess,' I said. ‘Such a mess. I'll pay for it.'

Kannemeyer stood up. He had flour all over his pants and hands and even his moustache.

‘I am so sorry,' he said, and he walked away.

CHAPTER EIGHTY-SEVEN

I had to make two trips from my car to the house with all my heavy groceries. But I walked slowly and I managed just fine.

The house was very quiet, and I had an empty feeling in my belly. I put the food on the table and stood on the stoep.

‘
Kik kik kik
,' I called.

The chickens came running and I threw out a handful of mielies for them.

‘
Cluck cluck
,' they said. ‘
Cluck
.'

I helped myself to some of their eggs. It was about time I had a decent meal. I had a long day of cooking ahead of me and I needed to be strong.

I fried up some eggs and bacon and sausage and tomatoes, and warmed up some cheese scones that I had in the freezer. Then I made toast and coffee and put them on a tray with butter and apricot jam, and took it all onto the stoep.

My garden and the veld were looking lovely after the rain, but I had eyes only for my breakfast. I ate and ate. I didn't even make conversation with the food, because I was too busy eating.

The empty feeling in my belly had just been hunger. After a good breakfast, I felt fine.

I thought I heard a car coming down my dirt road. Then I realised it was a truck on the R62.

I was full now, no space for emptiness, but I had an extra cheese scone with jam, just to make sure.

I started with the chicken soup, because it is best to slow-cook it for a long time. I decided to make a big batch so I could freeze it and take some to Jessie every day. While I was chopping the celery, I kept looking up and seeing those blerrie couch cushions. They had the curves of his shape in them and then the shape of my body on top of his. It was embarrassing.

I put down my knife and went and turned the cushions over.

‘That's better,' I said to the celery as I finished chopping. ‘I was stupid . . . A fool. I won't do it again. Honestly, at my age . . . '

I added the potatoes, celery, carrots, tomatoes and parsley to the chicken that I had fried in olive oil with leeks, onion, ginger and garlic. Then I added cold water. That's the important thing when making a good soup. The water must be cold so the flavour can seep into the broth, instead of sealing the taste into the vegetables.