Recipes for Love and Murder (18 page)

I just sat for a while and listened to the sounds of my garden and the veld. My chickens were quiet, but the birds were calling to each other. The bokmakieries have the prettiest call. They've got more tunes than all the other birds put together. Now and again I could hear a car on the road that goes to and from town. Maybe people driving back from church, home to their Sunday lunch.

But the loudest sound, bigger than all the noises put together, was the silence.

Sometimes silence scares me because it makes me feel so alone. But today I was enjoying it. There had been so much noise the last few days that I was thirsty for the quiet. I was drinking it, alongside my watermelon juice.

I could even hear myself breathing, and feel my own heart beating. Then I heard a buzzing sound, and I looked around for a big insect, a bumble bee maybe? I saw nothing, but the noise got louder. A scooter. It travelled up the dust road towards me, and I saw Jessie pull up and take off her helmet and shake out her black hair. I waved to her. It was too hot for jumping up. She would come to the shade of the stoep.

She sat down in the chair next to me but did not speak. Her face was pale, like someone had squeezed all the flavour out of it.

I poured her a glass of watermelon juice, but she did not even look at it.

‘Jessie,' I said, ‘are you all right, my skat?'

She opened her mouth and took a big breath and then her whole body started to shake.

‘Oh, Tannie Maria . . . '

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Jessie closed her eyes but tears leaked out from under her eyelashes and rolled down her cheeks. I put my arm around her and she leaned into me and cried on my apron and I patted her head and stroked her hair.

‘Ag, moederliefie,' I said.

When she had finished crying, I said, ‘Listen to the bokmakieries.'

They were making such lovely sounds again. As Jessie rested her head on my shoulder, I watched one fly from the gwarrie tree to a thorn tree; it lifted up its yellow throat and made a beautiful bubbling sound, like a stream that could sing.

‘Have some watermelon juice,' I said. ‘Crying like that. In this heat. You must be all dried out.'

She sat up and had a big sip.

‘Ag, Tannie Maria . . . ' she said.

Then she swallowed again, even though there was nothing in her mouth except for my name.

‘What is it, Jessie girl?'

‘I'm such a fool,' she said.

Then I knew it was a love problem she had. Only love could make a fool of a clever girl like Jessie.

‘Reghardt?' I asked.

She nodded and sniffed.

‘We were at school together, and he's always been a bit into me, y'know, but I just wanted to stay friends. When I was in Grahamstown, I missed him. I missed my mom and family and everyone, but I really missed him. We've seen each other a bit since I moved back home. But I told him I'm not really ready for a boyfriend. I like my independence.'

She had another sip of juice and then she hugged herself, her hands cupping the tattoos on her upper arms.

‘Then the other night, after the shooting, after we dropped you off, I went home with him. He was being so nice, and I was a bit freaked out, and . . . The thing is . . . I've never actually been all the way with a guy before . . . ' She looked out across the veld. ‘But it was nice. Really nice. I really opened up to him, if you know what I mean.'

I nodded, but I wasn't sure if I did.

‘It was really special. Awesome. He acted like it was too. But then . . . '

She looked around the table like she was looking for help. There was just my plate with crumbs of cake on it . . . No help at all.

‘Last night he was in the bar,' she said, ‘with his pa and the guys, watching the rugby. He hardly said hello, and I was a bit like, ja, well, whatever, but I thought he'd come over at half-time, and anyway I was busy interviewing Candy.'

I wanted to know what Candy had said, but that could wait.

‘Then at half-time he didn't come over, though he did sort of wave at us. Some guys sent over drinks. Martinis. Candy drank most of them. I was tired, and went home at about eleven. Reghardt waved goodbye to me. Didn't kiss me or walk me out or anything. When I got home, my sister was still up and I spoke to her and she told me what I should've known already.'

Jessie found a napkin on her lap and blew her nose.

‘I'd forgotten what a racist little town we come from,' she said. ‘Reghardt wouldn't want his father and friends to see him with a coloured girlfriend.'

‘Ag, no, Jessie,' I said.

But as I said it I knew it could also be true.

‘I was just his loslappie . . . Just a loose rag for him to use and then throw away.'

I didn't know what to say. Then I remembered the cake. I don't know why it took me so long to remember there was still half a baby cake inside.

‘Just wait here a second, my skat. I'll be right back.'

The kitchen smelled of the slow-drying buttermilk rusks. I made a quick cup of coffee and brought it out with the date-and-walnut cake for Jessie.

She took a mouthful, and washed it down with a sip of coffee. But it did not cheer her up.

‘It gets worse,' she said. Her throat moved up and down even though she wasn't eating anything. ‘This morning I drove past the Ladismith Hotel. And I saw Candy's red sports car there. I went inside, thinking maybe she had slept at the hotel. Although she'd told me she was staying at the Sunshine B&B. Anyway, in the hotel there I saw Jannie. He was on bar duty last night. He told me that Candy didn't stay at the hotel.'

Jessie's throat was doing that swallowing thing again. But she wasn't swallowing any more cake. Maybe without the eggs and butter it just wasn't comforting enough. I should have served her piece with cream.

‘He told me Candy left with Reghardt,' Jessie said, ‘their arms around each other. He gave me a wink and said: “That girl was flipping sexy, he definitely scored.”'

Then Jessie started to cry again, but all her tears were used up, so it was more of a bumpy coughing.

I didn't know what to do. I know I write a love advice column, but a letter is different from having someone right there. I just wanted to make her pain go away. It didn't seem worth it to me – this love business. Look how it can break such a strong girl. How it makes a clever girl feel a fool.

I gave her a hug and kissed the top of her head. Soentjies. Little kisses, like my mother used to give me when I hurt myself.

‘That's what you need,' I said. ‘Soentjies.'

When her body had stopped shaking, I put my hands on her shoulders and stood her up.

‘Come inside, Jessie,' I said. ‘We are going to bake those little biscuits – soentjies.'

I led her into the kitchen.

‘Pass me that big block of butter from behind you,' I said, opening the cupboards to get caster sugar and flour and cornflour. ‘We'll be needing butter. Lots of butter. Put it in the warming drawer to soften it.'

She did as I told her, though she moved slowly, like a floppy rag doll.

‘Now use a little bit of this butter to grease this tray,' I said, laying all the ingredients out on the table. ‘There's a good girl. Now beat the butter. Ja . . . and slowly add the caster sugar. Keep beating it . . . Nice.'

I could see some strength coming into her arms when her hands were busy. I needed to get her mind busy too.

‘Now sieve all these together . . . Ja,' I said. ‘So, did you learn anything? That might help our case? From . . . the cousin.'

Jessie's hands were covered in flour and butter.

‘Well,' said Jessie, ‘she did tell me quite a lot.'

‘Yes?' I said, breaking three eggs and whisking them in a bowl.

‘That guy Grace told us about,' she said. ‘The one called John. Candy says he could be Martine's old boyfriend, John Visser. He's an organic farmer.'

‘Now add that flour to the butter mixture, while I add this. Ja, keep stirring.'

‘He wanted to marry her but she said no. Candy thinks that he wasn't stable enough for Martine.'

‘Okay, now get in there with your hands. Knead the dough. So she went for that Dirk instead?'

I moved the rusks from the oven to the warming drawer and turned the oven up to a hundred and eighty degrees, to be ready for the soentjies.

‘Dirk is financially secure, and he seemed like a solid guy when they married. Candy didn't know Dirk beat Martine. She was pretty freaked when she heard, and upset Martine hadn't told her.'

I thought of my time with my own husband, and of Martine's letter to me. She'd made her bed and she would lie in it, she'd said.

‘You don't want other people to know your man is beating you,' I said. ‘It feels like it's your own fault.'

‘Candy said Martine was very proud,' she said. ‘Not one to ask for help.'

I put the sugar back into the cupboard and took out the icing sugar. Next to it was some peanut butter. I thought it might make a nice addition to the usual soentjie recipe.

‘I think we'll try adding some of this,' I said, putting the jar next to Jessie. ‘What do you think?'

‘Yum,' said Jessie, her eyes bright now. ‘They come from an interesting family. Martine and Candice's fathers were brothers and they were both mega-wealthy. The grandfather had a gold mine, literally. Candy's father set her up in business, and left her a small fortune.'

‘Mmm?' I said, spooning in the peanut butter.

‘But Martine's father is on this mission that his two children should learn to be independent, so he hasn't given them a cent.' She worked the peanut butter into the dough. ‘Him and Martine had some kind of argument a while back, after her mother died, and they haven't been in contact. Martine's brother hangs around their dad, hoping for some crumbs, but no luck. Yet. The father's in his eighties and pretty sick. He's in a wheelchair.'

‘Now roll them into balls, like this,' I said. ‘Then flatten them with a fork.'

‘And how's this?' Jessie said, quickly making lots of little dough balls. ‘Martine's brother doesn't even know about her boy! You know, the special needs one in that home.'

The cooking and talking had brought the rag doll Jessie back to life. She smacked a row of cookie-balls with a fork,
bam, bam, bam
, and popped them onto the baking tray.

‘I wonder why,' I said. ‘You think she was ashamed?'

‘Candice thinks it's just that she was very private, and not that close to her brother. Sounds like there were some family secrets. Didn't get the details.'

‘Martine didn't have much money, or she would've left Dirk,' I said. The tray was now full of little flattened cookies, and I put them into the oven. ‘But she said she was making a plan . . . I wonder what she was up to.'

‘Her last few bank statements don't show much happening. Just small withdrawals and her salary.'

Jessie wiped the messy part of the table. Then she looked at me and wiped the whole table clean.

It wasn't long till the soentjies were ready. We made a glue of icing sugar and lemon juice that we used to kiss each soentjie together with its mate. Then we put them on a plate and took them to the stoep with a big pot of rooibos tea.

Now that it was cooler, my chickens were up and about, scratching through the compost. The shadows were long on the hills and the afternoon light made all the prickly trees and bushes look soft. I couldn't hear the bokmakieries, but there were other birds calling.

The soentjies were delicious. Crisp, nutty and buttery. At last Jessie had something worth swallowing.

‘Jislaaik, Tannie, these are awesome,' she said, after she had eaten five of them.

It was good to see a smile back on Jessie's mouth.

I'm your man
, sang her phone.

She took her BlackBerry from its pouch on her belt, and the smile fell right off her face as she looked at the name of the caller.

‘Reghardt,' she said, pressing a button that stopped the song mid-sentence. ‘I'm going to change that ringtone right away.'

The phone rang again, and again she didn't answer.

This time it sang,
By the rivers dark.

CHAPTER FORTY

Jessie left without her smile, but with a Tupperware full of soentjies. By the time I'd tidied up, it was cool enough to work in the vegetable garden. I missed my brown veldskoene, but put on the khaki ones and my straw hat.

‘I hope she'll be okay,' I said to the lettuce, as I pulled up weeds. ‘I'm sure she will be. She is young and pretty.' I tidied up around the tomatoes. ‘She'll find someone else.'

I fetched a spadeful of the dark compost from the bottom of the heap. My rust-brown chickens were pecking in the grass nearby, and they came to inspect the soil for fresh food.

‘Come and eat the goggas that are eating my vegetables,' I said to them, but they ignored me.

I spread compost between the plants with a small garden fork, and pulled off a slug that was sitting at the heart of a purple lettuce.

‘
Kik kik kik kik
,' I called and the chickens came running.

I threw the slug at them and the fastest gobbled it. They all came wandering through the veggie patch, looking for things to eat. I put compost around the marigolds and wild garlic. Together with the chickens, these plants helped me keep the insects away.

‘She'll be just fine,' I said to the chickens. ‘Jessie. She'll find someone to love.'

One of the hens came and stood quite close and looked up at me with bright eyes, its head cocked on one side.

‘Me?' I said, stabbing the fork into the soil, mixing in the compost. ‘I'm fine too.'

I left the salad veg and headed across to the beetroot and potatoes. The hen followed me.

‘I'm just fine.'

At sunset, I closed the chickens into their hokkie, washed the garden off me and put on my nightie. I made a sandwich with leftover curry mince, and ate it on the stoep, watching the night go dark and the sky fill up with stars.