The Lazarus Effect (24 page)

Serena pulled her shaking sister to heel and drew an arm around her. ‘Ro, please,
please
, sweetie … she has a point …’ Her tone was so measured and reasonable that, if not for the quavering, Vee would fully believe her capable of headshrinking all of them out of their debacle.

‘Noooo …’

‘Sweetie, calm down and listen to me–’

A copper-tipped missile streaked through the narrow doorway and out into the night before it dawned on anyone that Chlöe was making a run for it. Rosie roared, elbowing and squirming out of her sister’s grip to pursue her. Serena and Vee leapt to restrain her, wrapping their arms and legs around her body. The sheer force of her struggles nearly brought the three of them crashing to the floor.

‘For Chrissake, will you stop it … Rosie, listen, just – ow, shit! Stop it or I’ll
klap
you!’

It was like trying to restrain a bronco. Serena wrapped her arms in a vice around Rosie’s torso, linking her hands to close the hold. Vee held onto her legs. They bucked and keened in time with her struggles until slowly the fight in her died down. Rosie began to sob.

‘They ruined everything,’ she quailed. ‘They screwed it up, I screwed it up. Why does this keep happening?’

‘Bad things happen, Ro. It was an accident. This was all an accident. No one blames you,’ murmured Serena. On the floor, Vee writhed into a better position to catch Serena’s eye (
no one blames you?!
) but Serena kept her gaze resolutely turned away. Vee understood – this was her baby sister, she had to say something.

‘The police should be here any minute. We heard them coming on the road,’ Serena said, stroking her sister’s hair. ‘We’ll wait here with you.’

A shriek tore out of Rosie’s throat, so loud and visceral it sounded like she’d torn a vocal cord. She unfurled like an explosive blossom, her shoe kicking Vee in the neck and elbow knocking Serena down flat onto her backside. Before they could
recover and make a grab for her clothes, she shook the two of them off and lunged through the door.

Vee gulped in shock and swallowed a mouthful of icy rain as she hit the outside. It took a few seconds – too long – for her vision to adjust to the darkness. She caught movement up ahead and ran towards it, in the direction of the streetlamps and unfinished sports centre. She nearly crashed into the wire fence that ringed the unfinished pool before she realised it was there, skidded and grabbed on to steady herself. Panting, she looked around again. Serena ran up behind her.

Things happened like a series of shots fired.

A streak blurred past the corner of Vee’s eye off to her far right. It coalesced into Chlöe, who zipped right into the mesh, dropped to her knees in the mud, and squirmed through a fresh opening in the fence. Chewing up her trail like a creature possessed was Rosie. Chlöe pulled her foot through to the other side just as Rosie rammed into the mesh, scrabbling for her legs through the hole. Rosie wriggled through the gap after her. Chlöe sprinted, screaming, pellets of rain bouncing off her face. Her boots skidded on the smooth, wet cement near the lip of the pool and her heels crunched as she braked. Her arms pinwheeled as she fought to keep her balance. Rosie charged again. Chlöe swayed and fell backwards, landing on the right side of the world. The rocket of dark that was Rosie flew past her, her look of rage crumbling into one of shock and terror as gravity pulled her into the unfinished pool.

The splash was louder than the thunder. They all stood slack-jawed, watching Rosie dip below the surface and bob up again,
her mouth filling with brown water each time she surfaced. Trembling, Chlöe looked over the expanse of the crater and through the fencing at Vee. Vee, breathless and blank, looked to Serena. Serena wrapped her arms around herself, opened her mouth and released a wail of anguish, heaving under the force of her sobs.

They stared back and forth at each other for what felt like eternity, their eyes communicating the worst: none of them knew how to swim.

Somewhere in the background, police sirens struck up a tardy redemption song.

Vee dived into the pool. The tide of brown water closed its hands over her head.

She blinked into the murk. She couldn’t see shit. She stretched her toes out, reaching for solid ground. There was nothing; she was too far out. The dimensions of the pool came screaming to the front of her mind, and she fought a burst of panic. Her arms arced through the water in a basic stroke, and her heart dub-dubbed in triumph as her body moved forward in response. She took a few more strokes, coasted, lost her air and pushed to the surface.

Spluttering, she looked around until she glimpsed Rosie, thrashing up a vortex of panic. Vee doggy-paddled nearer, gulping down huge breaths and bracing for the worst the closer she got. Rosie’s hand smacked her all over the face, desperate for a hold on anything that would keep her from sinking, and finally latched onto her shirt.

Always remember: a drowning person is desperate. They can’t swim, but survival instinct means they’ll try, even if it means wasting all their energy and oxygen.

Rosie whinnied, her eyes darkening with terror. Her kicks and struggles got feebler as she clung to Vee, her weight an incredible drag with each passing second. Vee gulped some more, ballooning her lungs and forcing herself to relax and resist fighting back as Rosie wrapped both arms around her, pulling them both under.

That also makes them dangerous. By the time you make it to them, they’re practically worn out. When they grab on to you, don’t fight. You’ll both drown. It’s tough, but just go down with them.

They sank.

Lumps of dark matter floated past. Vee hastily squeezed her eyes shut, sparing herself the trauma of watching her last moments go by in what was essentially effluent.

Hold your breath for as long as you can. When you feel the person go limp, grab on tight and swim to the surface.

Pulling Rosie was like hauling a small barge to shore with one finger. Vee’s burning lungs nearly ruptured in gratitude when she hit the surface. She paddled and breaststroked the best she could with one arm. Within a couple of feet of the rim Chlöe and Serena splashed in, grabbed them and dragged, the four of them trundling towards the edge like an unsteady raft.

‘I don’t know CPR!’ Serena screeched.

Rosie saved them the trouble, vomiting on the concrete. Drained, sodden and panting, they huddled near the edge of the crater, listening to the sound of a siren in the distance. Vee didn’t want to think about which of them would eventually have to hobble to the front entrance to bring in the cavalry, but
she had a feeling she already knew the answer. She rolled onto her back and stretched out her legs, catching her breath first.

‘It’s stopped raining,’ Chlöe observed softly, looking up at the sky in wonder.

‘Yeah, it has.’ Wheezing, Serena followed her gaze. ‘Fucking Cape Town.’

A procession of warm bodies tiptoed in and out of the private room on the recovery ward. A junior doctor flexed Vee’s arm and clucked her tongue in reproach. A male nurse asked her a string of incomprehensible questions in Xhosa as he hung a drip next to the bed. A confused octogenarian wandered into the room and managed to pee on the floor before two orderlies steered him away. Vee could barely keep her lids open long enough to register most of it. She crashed once her head hit the pillow, slept for ten straight hours and woke the following day in time for the lunch rounds with arid nostrils and a raging bladder.

Her first visitor was Bronwyn Abrams. Afternoon visiting hours hadn’t quite begun but she’d been waiting for over an hour, so the nurses took pity and let her through. Bronwyn’s soft, quiet eyes were rimmed crimson from crying, her face drawn and puffy. The toddler she had in tow bounced around the room, entertaining himself with a toy airplane while she talked. Bronwyn gripped Vee’s hand as she sat next to the bed, breaking into a fresh bout of blubbering every time she went over another emotional part of the story she’d already spent the morning telling the police.

‘I feel so guilty. I didn’t know,’ she sniffled, fresh tears running down her face. ‘I swear, if I’d known it was important I would’ve gone to the police two years ago. I wish I could take it all back.’

Vee patted her hand. ‘What’s done is done. At least now you know what your friendship meant to her.’

Chlöe poked her head in as Bronwyn was on her way out. Vee watched them whisper in the doorway before Bronwyn scooped up her son and gave her a grave nod goodbye.

‘The minute we were rescued, I called her to go straight to the cops and give a statement like you told me. I have no idea what her part in this is, but I reckon you’ll tell me. And look, I’ve got war wounds, too!’ Chlöe proudly brandished her arms, bandaged up to the wrists in a detachable splint much as Vee’s had been. ‘Of course, you’re the real hero, which is why Portia the Proud is coughing up for such a nice room. And it’s
not
at the WI, thank heavens. After this, I don’t think I could ever let those crazies give me a Panado.’ She gave Vee a playful pinch. ‘How’re you feeling? Your swimming skills saved a life, bru!’

‘My what skills? I got lucky … If that had been a real pool, last night would’ve ended differently, trust me. A long time ago I had three whole lessons with a great instructor and lost interest. Let’s just say, when it comes to bodies of water, I know how to … not die.’

‘Whatever. You saved the person who tried to kill us, so that makes you a double badass.’

‘Okay,
tried to kill us
may be embellishing a little, Bishop.’

‘Excuse me? I felt decidedly in peril, so speak for yourself.’ Chlöe took away the dry sandwich Vee was forcing herself to
chew, tossed it in the bin beside the bed and moved the food tray to the side table. ‘I’ll buy you real food in, like, five minutes. I already know Sergeant Mthobeli filled you in with Rosie and Serena’s statements so you have the full picture now, right? So tell me, tell me, tell me!’

Vee was overjoyed when Connie breezed in, laden with goodies: chunks of meat floating in
peppe
soup, a glistening cheek of fufu and sliced mangoes. Chlöe backed away from the eye-watering hit of chilli. Vee teared up in gratitude.

‘You the one encouraging this girl to act crazy all around town and get herself killed?’ Connie demanded from Chlöe as she dished up, eyes glowering. Chlöe was about a head taller, but she shrank away, throwing Vee a worried look.

‘I’ve always found she hardly needed any encouraging,’ said a voice behind them.

Titus filled the doorway, tentative of grin and armed with a goodie basket. Behind him stood Joshua, unburdened, his hands nestled in his pockets. If Vee knew him at all, there was something in there. She craned her neck, anxious to meet his eyes as the room bustled with bodies exchanging niceties and shuffling for room to sit. At last, he met her gaze and tossed her a smile that was all eyes.

Vee felt her shoulders unknot. ‘Damn.’ She was surprised at how relaxed – no,
buoyant
– she felt. Maybe the IV bag running into her vein contained something surplus to requirements, a dash of mood enhancer thrown in with the fluids and electrolytes. ‘I
feel
stupid, if this is what it takes to get this much attention. Too bad I’m being discharged this evening.’

‘You should feel stupid,’ Titus said, perched next to Chlöe on the empty bed opposite.

‘You’re the stupidest person in the world,’ Joshua added, his rump parked on the window ledge. Vee noticed they couldn’t have been further apart than if she banished them to separate corners of the planet.

‘Whatever, whatever!’ Chlöe bounced on the mattress, brimming. ‘Ooh, this is just like the mystery books, when the great detective gathers everyone in the drawing room and–’

‘Chlöe.’

‘Ag, then for fuck’s sake,
spit it out.
’

Vee leaned back and got comfortable. ‘We were both wrong. We had our reasons, solid ones, but we couldn’t have been more off base. My biggest mistake was assuming this had to be a man’s crime. If I’d paid closer attention it would’ve clicked from the outset this had nothing to do with the adults; they were mere bystanders. It began with Sean, and sucked Jacqui in. Serena and Lucas were satellites.’

‘But you were onto something with Bronwyn too, right?’ Chlöe asked.

‘Which I couldn’t figure out,’ Vee replied. ‘And if Rosie and Serena had got rid of us last night, we would’ve died never knowing how Bronwyn or a lot of other things added up. But I’ll come back to that later.

‘Like I said, it started with Sean and Jacqui, and that’s more or less how it ended. Had I simply paid attention to the dates on which they both died – in the same week, only in different years – it would’ve clicked that the death of one led to the death of the other. When Sean died all the grown-ups died too, in a way. Everybody made so much noise about how incredible this kid was, I wanted to off him myself. Ian and Carina took it the
hardest, and Adele’s guilt about Jacqui’s role in the transplant fiasco made her open to allowing her daughter to nurture ties with the Fouries, at least at first. It’ll torture her for the rest of her life, wondering if it would all have been different now if she’d cut her losses and moved on.

‘But I didn’t examine the kids thoroughly. The star player was dead and the others just faded into non-entities. The kids grew up knowing that, accepting it. What Sean’s death broke, no one ever wanted repaired, and they didn’t dare taint his memory by learning to be happy again.

‘Rosie herself said the baby of the family doesn’t count. She hurt just as much as everyone else, but her grief was second-hand; she hadn’t earned it. Not to mention, she’s the outcast. Big girl, awkward and overly sensitive, not easy on the eye like her sisters. She’s aware of it, too. Seeing the effects of Sean’s death made her want to make sure that nothing would ever break her family up that way again.

‘I imagine she started hanging out with Jacqui to size her up. The parents had their misgivings about another kid muscling into the fold so soon after the loss. The one smart thing Rosie realised, which no one else did, was that by hook or crook Jacqui intended to make herself part of that family. In Rosie’s warped mind, she was the gatekeeper. Jacqui would have to go through her. And since the doctors raised their kids to believe that being a Fourie was the highest honour – extra fuel. Rosie went in, Jacqui wooed, and Rosie fell. For once she felt noticed and accepted for who she was. A feeling she didn’t get at home,
what with Serena and Lucas patronising her. Jacqui became sister and friend.’

‘That was the trigger,’ Chlöe interrupted. ‘Serena and Lucas warmed up to Jacqui and stole her away from Rosie.’

‘Exactly. Shoplifting and bunking school are out of character for Rosie, but Jacqui was a rebel. Rosie knew they got up to no good together, but screw it, she had a partner. Then Serena swooped in, Jacqui found Jesus and, ironically, everything got worse. Rosie got benched again – the baby who would never grow up – and it pissed her off. She felt betrayed. But I’ll swing back to that, too. The church angle may’ve had nothing to do with Rosie, but it brought in a new person, or rather an old acquaintance, in Bronwyn.’

‘You’re a terrible storyteller,’ Connie grumbled.

‘Yeah, you need to explain about Bronwyn because I’m in the dark there.’ Chlöe scratched her cheek. Connie and Titus frowned, only just hearing the bulk of the tale. Joshua tilted his head, the crease between his eyes deepening.

‘Bronwyn came by earlier with her sixteen-month-old son. Her grandmother’s very sick and they’ve been with her in Worcester all this time, and she wasn’t taking calls. Which is why she only hit me up last night when she got back in town.’

‘Wait a minute,’ Joshua said. ‘This Bronwyn, she was one of the two friends your missing girl was close to, right? I remember you mentioning her.’

Vee nodded energetically. ‘Yep. Like Ashwin, she was one of the last to see Jacqui alive.’

‘And her son is sixteen months …’ His expression came alive like a comet entering the atmosphere. ‘The kid, the money scam … God, she should’ve contacted you sooner. This could’ve been over weeks ago.’

‘What? I don’t get it.’ Chlöe shifted round on the bed to glare at him properly. ‘I’ve been working on this from day one and I don’t get
any of that.
’

‘Let me back up a li’l bit and explain this relationship,’ Vee said.

‘Please. Because I’m in the middle of this spider web of people like a fly with a serious headache,’ Connie said.

‘Adele Paulsen and Bronwyn’s parents are old friends and their girls grew up together,’ Vee explained. ‘Their nickname was ‘J&B’ when they were younger because they were so close. Bronwyn’s shy and from a strict religious home, and after Jacqui moved to Little Mowbray they drifted apart. Fast forward some years later. Jacqui catches the Holy Spirit and joins Serena’s prayer group. In all that Bible study and choir practice around town, Jacqui and Bron reconnected and jump-started their relationship stronger than ever. Even though they went to different high schools, Jacqui always invited Bron to mingle with her other friends to bring her out of her shell.’

‘Which explains Tamara and all her bitchiness,’ Chlöe said. ‘She did
not
like sharing her best friend with some mousy competitor.’

‘Apparently, Bron busted too far outta that shell and got pregnant. She was sketchy about details of the father, but suffice it to say he lied her panties off, knocked her up and then played dumb. Same old, same old.’

‘It’s always the Christian girls,’ Titus muttered.

Chlöe sucked in her breath. ‘No way. Ashwin?’

Vee shook her head. ‘I thought so too, but she swears not and I believe her. He’s not her type, and Jacqui would’ve known. It’s some average Joe she knew. Anyway, needless to say she freaked out and turned to the one friend she had who knew a thing or two about such matters. Getting an abortion was against Bron’s beliefs, but it felt like the only choice. Jacqui tried to talk her out of it but Bron wore her down, threatening suicide and all sorts of craziness.’

Connie looked confused. ‘A woman can get an abortion at practically any facility. She doesn’t even need parental consent, as long as it’s within the first twelve weeks. Why didn’t Bronwyn just get it done at a state hospital?’

‘She was hysterical. She admitted that had she done that, things would’ve taken a different tangent. But we’re talking about two teenagers. They’d know how badly young women requesting abortions get treated, or, worse, the horror stories of backstreet procedures. Bronwyn was also terrified she’d run into someone from her neighbourhood or church, or even one of her relatives, and she’d be busted. Both she and Jacqui agreed it had to be somewhere posh and discreet if her parents were never to know.’

‘And
that’s
where the informal business came in.’ Chlöe sighed, relieved to be on the same page. ‘Jacqui had given up all her naughty tricks, and she’d blown her savings on expensive goodies, so they couldn’t afford it. She tried going back to selling, but that didn’t last long before she got caught and suspended from school. And still they didn’t have enough for a proper doctor.’
She flagged. ‘And I’m stuck again. How’d it get to Rosie? Wait, don’t tell me …’

‘Jacqui decided to ask for it. She could’ve stolen the money from either of her parents or somewhere else, but that kind of behaviour was behind her. She was already grounded for so many other things, she figured she had nothing to lose by asking for the rest. The worst answer she could get was no.’

‘So she went by the Fourie house after tennis practice that Saturday to make her case,’ Chlöe said.

‘First she went to see Bronwyn, who lived over in Woodstock back then. Bron was about nine weeks in, praying it wouldn’t be noticed. She called Jacqui every day. That Saturday she was inconsolable, so Jacqui agreed to stop by after tennis. Later on, she told the cops that Jacqui had been with her for only a half-hour, but admitted to me it was actually two. When the case went crazy, she wanted to change her story but was scared, and didn’t think the extra time mattered either way. Like everybody else, she thought Ashwin was responsible.’

Joshua asked, ‘So what happened to the cell phone?’

‘It got lost, or more likely stolen, like you said. Jacqui took the train from Newlands Sports Club to Woodstock at about one thirty, and Bronwyn remembers her saying she got jacked on the way there. Jacqui ended up chilling with her for a while and making plans about what to do, which accounts for the missing time we weren’t able to explain. Two hours sounds about right to calm a friend down. Jacqui promised she’d fix it but didn’t say how, and then she left when it was after four. After that, I’m just filling in the gaps. We know she saw Ashwin and they
fought. I’m certain she went to press him for some cash, but they got into it the way they always did. She must’ve realised it was a dumb move, especially when he was still hung up on her. That’s when she made the biggest mistake of her life, turning to the Fouries as a last resort.’

‘But
why Rosie
?’ Chlöe looked completely floored. ‘What set her off enough to kill her own sister? The rest of us haven’t heard her statement yet, but you have.’

Closing her eyes for a second, Vee tried to visualise the scenario in her mind, tempted simply to doze off. She was spent. Gratitude to be in one piece after her ordeal was all fine and well, but she needed some major downtime.

‘Jacqui took the train to Pinelands and got there after six o’clock that evening,’ she said finally. ‘This time of year it still gets dark early. She was phoneless, hadn’t checked in with her mother or anyone else as to where she was, and was no doubt in a feral mood. Pinelands is a quiet suburb and likely nobody saw her. No witnesses came forward to say they had.

‘Nobody was expecting her, either. That Saturday was the twenty-second, the beginning of school holidays. Ian and Carina were grinding even harder back then than now, putting extra hours into the WI. The maid was long gone. Serena and Lucas didn’t live at home any more. The only person there was Rosemary.’

She switched, paraphrasing from memory what Sergeant Mthobeli had recounted from the sisters’ statements: ‘Rosie refused to let Jacqui in. Jacqui had ditched her, and she was angry and suspicious. She wanted to know why Jacqui had come to
the house, but Jacqui only said she needed to talk to Ian urgently and would wait around until he got home. Eventually, she lost her temper with all Rosie’s prying, told her to go to hell and started to leave.

‘Rosie said she
knew
Jacqui was pregnant, that she’d suspected it for weeks until Jacqui supposedly confessed it. Once she heard that, Rosie reached her own conclusion about who the father was.’

‘Lucas.’ Connie’s mouth fell open. ‘Ag no man, her brother and sister were going to have a baby together!’

‘But Rosie was wrong,’ Vee said. ‘She’d known for a long time about Lucas’s feelings, and remembered how Jacqui had been avoiding him. She jumped to the wrong conclusion. I think in her anger Jacqui admitted to wanting her father’s help with
a
pregnancy, Bronwyn’s pregnancy, but Rosie got the wrong end of the stick.

‘Jacqui stormed off down the driveway. I can only imagine what went through Rosie’s mind watching her go, what she was feeling. This girl was supposed to be the new sister they’d welcomed into their lives, but she was going to destroy everyone all over again, just like her mother had. After the devastation of Sean it would finish the family, her parents’ careers, if that kind of scandal broke. She must’ve been revolted at the thought of what her siblings had done. She must’ve felt rejected that the one person she’d come to love and count on had just spat in her face. That’s when she lost it.’

‘And we’ve seen Rosie lose it,’ Chlöe said. ‘
She
…
flips
…
her
…
shit
.’

‘Jacqui was over at the electric gate waiting to be buzzed out. Carina’s car was parked, and Rosie blindly grabbed the keys and jumped in. She was thirteen and couldn’t drive beyond the basics. I don’t even think it dawned on Jacqui what was happening until the car crushed her. By the time Rosie came to her senses, Jacqui was dead.’

The air conditioner thrummed over the thick silence, pumping extra chill into the air. Subdued, Vee reached for the remote and switched it off. The beep it gave winding down felt like a sad punctuation mark to a long, harrowing chronicle spanning weeks.

‘How did she get rid of the body?’ Titus asked quietly.

‘She called the sister she thought she couldn’t count on, and Serena came through for her. She drove from campus in a borrowed car, which they used to dump the body. The police are conducting a search for the car and remains as we speak.’

Chlöe’s bandaged hands clapped over her mouth. Her face slackened and blanched. ‘Oh my God.’

Vee shook her head. ‘I know. It’s unbelievable, but people have died for less. A moment of madness and that’s it. I read in the morning paper somebody got stabbed to death over a bag of groceries in the township yesterday.’

‘No, no, no, I just remembered that I forgot to tell you something. About Serena’s old roommate and the car …’ Chlöe dropped her hands, her eyes tiny blue planets popping out of her skull. ‘Ohhhh fuuuuck ….’