Rachel Weeping (5 page)

chapter 5

Chris grabbed a
banana from the fruit bowl and his keys from the kitchen counter, the clock telling him that he was already late for work. He looked around to see if he was missing anything important and, satisfied that he wasn't, hurried out to his car.

Today was the first day of Michelle's ‘rest' and he had left her to sleep in, being as quiet as he could while he showered and got dressed so that he didn't wake her. He walked up the driveway, his work shoes clicking on the cold slate which this morning was covered in a thin layer of frost and leaves. When he was a child one of his chores in autumn had been to sweep the dead leaves into piles and put them into black trashbags. Now he had Richmond to do that, and to make sure that everything else in the garden was in order.

He had almost reached the car when he saw Rachel walking towards the house. She was wearing a thick woollen jersey over her blue and white uniform and had her arms folded tightly around her chest from the cold. Chris wasn't a fan of maids in uniforms but, as it turned out, Rachel had told them that she preferred working in a uniform because it kept her normal clothes from getting dirty. So Chris had had to learn to accept its presence in the house, even though it was a constant reminder to him that he'd become a person who employed a servant.

Rachel hadn't seen him yet. She rubbed her arms in an attempt to get the blood circulating. Even though Chris knew her light went off at 20:30 every night, he thought she looked tired. He couldn't imagine what she was going through. He still found it difficult to engage with her about anything other than what he and Michelle needed her to do for them in the house.

‘Rachel!' Chris called out and she looked up, startled at the sound of his voice. ‘I'm glad I bumped into you. How are you doing?'

‘I'm well, Mr Jordaan,' Rachel replied.

Rachel's return to formality baffled Chris and made him deeply uncomfortable, but he didn't know whether to say something about it or not. ‘I just wanted to tell you that Michelle will be at home today.'

‘Okay. Is she sick?'

‘No. The doctor just said that she needed to rest a lot more for the baby so we've decided that she'll stop working and stay at home for the next few months.'

Chris watched Rachel process the information but her face was emotionless, betraying nothing of what she might be feeling or thinking. He and Michelle never talked about the baby when Rachel was within hearing, unless it was absolutely necessary. Now was one of those times.

‘I just thought I'd let you know,' Chris concluded.

Rachel nodded. ‘I'll make sure I don't disturb her,' she said.

Chris didn't know how to respond to this. Rachel had misunderstood him. His reason for telling her about Michelle staying home was not to make her feel like an intruder but more to let her know why Michelle would be there so much from now on.

‘That won't be a problem,' he said, looking at the time on his iPhone and realising that he was even later than he thought. ‘Sorry – I've got to get out of here.'

Chris climbed into his car, simultaneously starting the engine and pushing the button to open the electric gate. While he waited for it to open, he looked in the rear view mirror and saw Rachel standing at the entrance, waiting for him to leave before she went inside to start her work for the day. Her small, still figure, so upright and alone, cut deep into his heart. He rolled down the driver's side window.

‘Do you need me to get you anything from the shops on the way home?'

Rachel shook her head. ‘No, thank you. I'll be okay.'

‘Okay, then,' Chris said, wanting to say more but not knowing what.

He reversed out of the driveway and, as he waited for the electric gate to close, saw Rachel slip inside and close the front door.

Michelle was right. This was going to be unbearable. He turned his music on and joined the other cars on their way to work.

 

 

 

 

Michelle lay in bed, the closed door to the bedroom separating her from the rest of the house. She heard the front door open and Rachel come in, followed by Hugo's excited barking as he greeted her.

Ignoring a wave of nausea, Michelle got up and walked to the door. She reached out a hand to open it, but just before her fingers touched the handle she froze. The voice was there again, whispering, accusing, saying her name. It was always present somewhere in her head. Her hand started shaking and she pulled it back. She couldn't do it. She couldn't face Rachel. She slid down the wall until she was sitting on the floor with her back against the door.

It wasn't your fault
.
It could have happened to anyone
.

These were words Chris had said to her constantly and, as much as she tried to force herself to believe them and to repeat them to herself, she was unable to do so.

There was one simple reason.

It
was
her fault.

She knew it.

Chris knew it.

And, worst of all, Rachel knew it.

 

 

 

Rachel walked quietly down the passage that led to the Jordaans' bedroom, trying to work out where in the house Michelle was. The door was closed. She stopped outside it and listened, but all she heard was the sound of her own breathing. Perhaps Michelle was still asleep, even though by now it was past lunchtime. The Audi was still in the driveway. She went back down the passage to the kitchen, where she set up the ironing board and turned on the iron. She had been planning to vacuum this afternoon but now that it seemed Michelle was still here and possibly resting, it looked like she would have to save the noisy work for tomorrow.

Since Michelle had been staying at home, the atmosphere between them had been very difficult. Michelle barely acknowledged that Rachel was there at all. If they had exchanged more than a few sentences, it was a lot, and these were only really when Michelle told her she was going out. It was very confusing. If anything, Rachel should be the one ignoring Michelle but here she found herself being treated as though
she
had done something unforgiveable, as if she were at fault.

She picked up one of Michelle's cotton shirts from the laundry pile and laid it on the ironing board, flattening out the soft material before placing the hot iron on it, making the wrinkles disappear stroke by steady stroke. When she was satisfied she hung the shirt on a wooden hanger. Next she picked up a pair of blue jeans. She tried to work a wrinkle out, but the stubborn crease refused to be smoothed. She pushed down harder, moving the hot iron back and forth roughly. Suddenly she felt a stinging sensation on her forearm. She pulled back in pain. She had burned herself on the edge of the iron. As she watched, she saw a dark line form on her skin. She quickly walked over to the sink and turned on the cold tap, holding her arm under the flow of the water while she waited for the pain to subside. She felt tears coming and bit down hard on her lip. Her mind went back to Michelle. Rachel was the one who had been wronged and yet here she was cleaning up after the woman. She was the one who needed money to support her family, yet Michelle and Chris had more money than they knew what to do with. She was the one who had –

Yet Michelle was the one who was about to have a baby.

Rachel turned off the water and patted her arm dry on a piece of kitchen towel. She debated whether to apply some ointment on the burn from the emergency kit in the cupboard in the passage, but opted not to. She returned to the ironing board and waited for the steam to hiss.

 

 

 

Chris leaned over his drawing board and his latest project. He wanted to finish proofing the document one more time before it was sent out to the client, and he hoped to get it done before lunch. The office was a quiet hum of activity, all of his colleagues submerged in their own work. Suddenly the door burst open and Hannes rushed into the room, his glasses almost falling from his nose. He came to a skidding halt beside Chris.

‘Sorry, man! I thought you were still out with a client.'

‘I just got back,' Chris told him. ‘What are you looking for?'

‘The plans for Southbridge Mall.'

‘In the cupboard,' Chris said amiably. He turned his attention back to the plans in front of him.

If ever there was someone from the office Chris would consider a friend, it was this short, stocky man. He and Hannes had started at the firm around the same time and had ended up working on the same projects as the years passed. Where Chris was married, Hannes was awkwardly single, the kind of guy who tried his best to change the situation but ended up digging the hole deeper with every attempt he made at dating.

Chris listened to Hannes rummaging through the cupboard, find the plans he was looking for and close the door with a crash. Instead of leaving right away, though, he came and stood on the other side of the table where he waited for Chris to look up at him.

‘What's wrong?'

‘Nothing,' Hannes said, fumbling with the plans. ‘I just wanted to ask how things were at home.'

Chris smiled vaguely. ‘Everything's good,' he said.

‘And Michelle?'

‘Um … she's okay, thanks. Has her ups and downs.' Chris began to realise that escaping this uninvited heart to heart wasn't going to be easy.

‘I can imagine,' Hannes said, shaking his head.

‘What do you mean?'

‘
Ag
, just that, you know, it's a sad story.'

‘What? Michelle staying at home is a sad story?' Chris was not going to play this game.

Hannes persevered nevertheless. ‘No, um, you know. The whole thing with the maid,' he said.

Chris shook his head and looked away. He was irritated that his personal issues were being brought up at work, even if it was Hannes; it was the one place he was always able to keep things in control.

‘It was an accident, Hannes,' he said shortly.

Before Hannes had a chance to comment both men were distracted by a tap at the door. Glossy red hair complementing an emerald green blouse and a wide friendly smile caused them both instantly to forget what they had been saying.

‘I'm popping out to the mall,' said Anja. ‘Can I get you guys anything?'

‘I'll come with you,' Chris said impulsively. He'd had no intention of going out at lunch today but the conversation with Hannes had left him in need of some fresh air.

‘Cool,' Anja said. ‘Shall we go in your car?'

Chris nodded and picked up his jacket. Hannes stood sheepishly to one side, making no move to tag along. Where his tact was lacking, his discernment still functioned, Chris thought with something like grim satisfaction.

‘Let's go, Anja,' he said.

 

 

 

‘I'm finished,' Rachel called out, her voice echoing through the house.

She waited a few moments to see if Michelle would respond and, hearing nothing, she opened the front door and let herself out. As she entered her room she was overcome by a wave of tiredness. She flopped down on her bed, her arms by her sides.

Over the past few weeks the fires of resentment had died down but they had left something behind, she'd discovered: a seed of bitterness that was lodged in her heart. It was a physical presence. She could feel it, like an alien thing, sitting right beside the pain of her loss. Resentment first, then bitterness. Both emotions were growing inside her like a poisonous plant, their roots intertwining as they flourished and got stronger. She wasn't a malicious person by nature but as she felt this new emotion flowing through her veins, Rachel could feel it changing her. Now she lay on her bed without moving and allowed herself to surrender to it. Eyes closed, helpless in its surge, she submitted as wave upon wave of hatred moved relentlessly through her.

Michelle had been sitting on her bed when she heard Rachel call out. She closed her laptop and contemplated answering her, but as she sat in silence, she knew she couldn't allow this to be her first interaction with Rachel. She listened as the front door opened and then closed and waited until she heard Rachel's footsteps fading up the driveway before she stood up.

Her phone buzzed as a message came through. She picked it up and glanced at the screen. The message was from Karlien, her closest friend. Karlien had been trying to get hold of her all day but Michelle had ignored the calls. Right now her desire to spend time with any of her friends was low.

Been calling you all day! We're going to movies tonight – let me know if you're coming. #chickflick

Michelle sighed and typed in a reply.

Not feeling great hey. Maybe next time.

She waited for Karlien to text back. The house was quiet now that Rachel was gone, not even Hugo snuffling at the door. Rachel must have left him outside in the garden.

Just promise you won't become one of those pregnant women who never leaves the house.

I'll try :)

Get better.

Michelle slipped the phone into her pocket and opened the bedroom door. She padded down the passage through the quiet house and into the kitchen. Her shopping from a few days ago was still in its packaging on the counter. A vase and some ceramics for the house. She began to unwrap them, carefully peeling away the plastic coverings. She placed the vase on the big polished table in the living room and the three ceramic hearts on the mantelpiece above the fireplace. She took a few paces back, narrowed her eyes at the arrangement, then stepped forward and adjusted one of the hearts slightly so that the spacing between each was exactly even. The room was cold. It might be a good idea to make a fire this evening, the first one of autumn. She bent down and took some wood from the basket beside the fireplace and began to stack it in the grate.

As she lit a match and held it to one of the logs, Michelle knew she was going to have to interact with Rachel sooner or later. Tomorrow. She would do it tomorrow. She blew softly on the small flickers of flame and watched them grow, the yellow heat beginning to consume the wood. She heard the front door open and stood up just as Chris came into the room. He came straight over to her and took her in his arms. She kissed him on the cheek.