The Blame (7 page)

Laura drove up the cul-de-sac that led to the school campus. To her left, three snow white Lusitano horses grazed in the mild sunshine, whilst the field to her right was covered in a carpet of pampas grass, the white tufts waltzing gently in the breeze. A sparrow hawk perched strategically on a lamp post, surveying his domain.

There were already three cars ahead of her, waiting for the school gates to open. Laura turned off the ignition and lowered her window. She sighed contentedly. The bucolic silence and the warm sunshine lulled her into a state of drowsiness. It was a real luxury being able to enjoy a few minutes of idleness without worrying about the workload she had.

Despite the disruptive, yet welcome, utility conformity visits, she had managed to get a lot of work done.  She would certainly meet the deadline she had set herself for the Delta assignment, but then again she always did. She couldn’t afford not to if she wanted to be cost-effective. She normally allocated herself a tight period for each project, so that she could then move on to the next one. However, this time, maybe on account of the economy, she didn’t have another contract awaiting her. She felt a twinge of anxiety; with all their recent expenses with the renovation, they certainly needed the money. It was time to start putting her networking to good use.

A bell sounded, immediately followed by the sound of engines being gunned to life as the gatekeeper allowed the vehicles access to the sprawling school grounds.  

Laura pulled into the parking lot, and made her way to the main entrance along a paved path. Walking on the grass was not encouraged; the front lawn was to be kept immaculate. David wasn’t the only one that obsessed about the lawn. She smiled, recalling another incident where grass had been an issue.

As a teenager she’d attended a rock concert at the sports stadium of the University of the Witwatersrand in Johannesburg. A war was being waged between the spectators, who naturally wanted to get as close to the stage as possible, and security, who wanted to keep them off the grass. The standoff was resolved when the lead singer roared into the microphone: First they don’t let you smoke grass, now they don’t let you walk on it!

Needless to say, the pitch had been instantly invaded.

As soon as Laura entered the cavernous lobby with its double volume ceiling, she saw the BusyBody Brigade. They were fussing over the student exhibits that lined the walls, no doubt, reassuring themselves that no student (in other words
parent
) had dared produce anything that outshone their offspring’s efforts.

Glass walls permitted an unobstructed view of the junior’s playground from the lobby, and Laura could see an army of maroon clad clones letting off steam after a day’s enforced silence and stillness. An eagle-eyed teaching assistant ensured things didn’t get out of hand.

Laura ducked behind a gigantic potted rubber plant and phoned Sara.

“Where are you?” she demanded. “I don’t want to speak to the 3Bs on my own!”

“Right here,” Sara laughed, as she came up behind Laura. “Let’s go get them.”

The mothers (and one father, a successful writer who worked at home) perched on the tiny chairs, their knees coming up to their shoulders; one or two backsides spilled over the confines of the seats.

If Helena had been self-assured when she was overweight, she was positively cocky now. After a lifetime of adhering to fad diets, she’d had an epiphany three months before which had led to radical life-style changes. Convinced most foods were contaminated with harmful allergens, additives, preservatives and God knows what else, she’d adopted a strict macrobiotic diet and become an avid runner. 

The kilos had positively melted away.

The mothers had cooed and fawned over her, while secretly hating her for her determination and willpower. There had to be something wrong with the woman for Chrissake—after all, who wanted to live on birdseed or quinoa, or whatever it was that she now ate.

She stood before them in skinny jeans and high heels, a pile of folders in the crook of her left arm. She beamed at her audience and waited for everyone to settle down. Laura half expected her to give them the royal wave.

Her sidekicks, Carla and Susana, basked in her limelight, waiting to spring into action and thus underscore their importance. It was vital everyone see they were pivotal to the running of not only the local church, but also the school.

Because all three had the good fortune of being married to wealthy farmers (pigs, poultry and fruit), none had a day job, which allowed them to throw themselves body and soul into both institutions— without needing an invitation.

The expensively, but demurely, clad pair took the folders and handed them out to the mothers and writer father, as Helena explained the changes she wanted to make. Oh, and yes, these ideas had been approved by their children’s beloved teacher, of course they had, she said, smiling at the poor woman who’d been banished to the sidelines.

In a struggling economy, the school simply couldn’t afford to antagonize the parents, who took full advantage of the situation (as did some of their children).

Laura and Sara started to fume. If every parent tried to override everything the school stipulated, there’d be chaos. What gave them the right to constantly impose their preferences on the other parents? Just because they had nothing better to do….

Laura dragged her attention back to what Helena was now saying.

“And so seeing as the play will be performed at Easter, we thought we should open and close the show with a little prayer,” she said in an authoritative voice.

A few heads nodded in agreement.

That did it.  Laura stood up.

“I’m afraid I don’t agree. This is a secular school, which is why I enrolled my daughter here. Anyone wishing to provide religious instruction for their children should do so outside the school grounds.”

Helena looked shocked; no one had ever turned down a suggestion of hers. And in such a rude fashion, too. And a foreigner to boot. What gave her the right? She looked round the room for support, finding it in most of the faces present. Realising a tricky situation was developing, Miss Moreno, the class teacher, walked to the front of the room and cleared her throat.

“I’m sorry, but Vanessa’s mother is right.”

And there it was—yet another group of people she felt totally alienated from. Maybe the fault lay with her; maybe she was the stroppy one. Maybe she saw things the wrong way and brought out the worst in others.

Maybe.

But she didn’t think so. 

Even David had agreed with her when she’d told him that evening what had transpired at the meeting.

***

There was nothing to indicate that it wasn’t safe. There were no deep rumblings or sharp cracks, so it came as a complete shock when the ice below her suddenly caved in, plunging her into the dark icy waters below. Laura wanted to scream but her vocal cords seemed unable to respond. She spluttered about, trying to gain a hold on the thin ice around her. The cold was inconceivable—it ate into her bones and sapped her strength. She knew she couldn’t hold on much longer.

“Laura! Hang on!”

“I’m coming, Laura!”

She heard the voices behind her and turned her head, straining to see who it was. Two silhouettes approached her cautiously, their arms outstretched. But something was wrong with her vision, she couldn’t see clearly; she couldn’t make out who they were.

“Laura! Take my hand!”

David! It was David’s voice. He’d come to save her.

“No, Laura, take mine. Here! Let me help you!”

Hugo? Laura was confused. Was he here, too? She squinted up at them and was finally able to see their anxious faces, both pleading with her to take their hand. 

She raised her arm to grip a hand, but it felt heavy, so heavy she could barely lift it. Then another dilemma presented itself to her: Which hand should she grab? She looked at the two men before her; both urged her to save herself. But she didn’t seem able to grab either hand.

I’m going to drown,
she thought
. I’m going to drown because I can’t decide which hand to take. 

And then there was that god-awful buzzing in her ears; it just wouldn’t stop. It invaded her head and pierced her thoughts and … roused her from her slumber.

Shit! She’d been dreaming. Heart pounding, she struggled with her phone, desperately swiping at it to turn it off. She fell back against her pillow, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

She’d been skating on thin ice.

You don’t have to be Freud to work that one out
, she thought. Two am. Time to get Vanessa up and take her to the loo.
Crap
.
This getting-up-in-the-middle-of-the-night lark is killing me
.

She slipped her feet into her slippers and pulled on her dressing gown. God, she hated having to leave her warm bed. She shuffled down to Vanessa’s bedroom and bent over her sleeping daughter. She shook her gently and called her name.

Nothing. She was dead to the world.  The urologist had said the problem was exactly that— she slept so deeply her brain failed to receive the signal from her full bladder.  You’d think her neurons would be a bit more assertive, more insistent. The little buggers ought to hold hands and march straight up to her brain and scream and shout till they made themselves heard.

She sighed, resigning herself to the fact that she’d have to carry her daughter to the bathroom once again. She pulled back the covers and her heart sank. She was too late. A dark stain spread across the middle of the bed.

Oh no. Not again.

She went back to her bedroom and woke David, who slept almost as soundly as his daughter. Then she returned to Vanessa’s room, scooped her up and carried her to the bathroom. She set her down on the floor, but her daughter barely registered what was happening. She grabbed the hand held shower hose and let it run for a while. As soon as the water was warm enough, she stripped off her daughter’s pyjamas. It was then that Vanessa started to wail; she didn’t appreciate having her sleep interrupted—a sentiment Laura shared.

She rinsed her off quickly and dressed her in a fresh pair of pyjamas while David changed the bedding. They’d performed this ritual so often they’d got it done to a fine art.

Ten minutes later, they were all fast asleep.

Sandra ran her hand through her brown spiky hair. “Thank God it’s Friday. This week has been heavy going. I had to lay off some more workers yesterday. It’s devastating for everyone.” she said forlornly.

“I agree, and it’s bad for company moral, but it can’t be helped,” replied Hugo. "
Everyone
will be out of a job if the company folds."

"It's not going to come to that, surely," said Sandra. "We have some leads in the pipeline, don't we?"

“That's true, but they're not a done deal yet. Right now we're staking all our hopes on a couple of projects in Colombia. One is a massive council housing estate, and the other is the construction of a motorway," he answered, indicating the folders on the table.  

"When will you know, Hugo?" asked Laura, booting up her laptop. 

"Hopefully, we’ll be able to clinch it within the next few days. A personal meeting is so much more productive than video conferencing." 

“Oh, I thought you weren't going till next month," said Laura.

“Yes, we haven't had a chance to talk yet, have we?" The innuendo was not lost on Laura. "My trip has been brought forward."

"Oh. So when are you leaving?" she asked him.

"This evening. I’m going with the Field Operations Manager."

“So soon. And when are coming back?”

“Probably in a week’s time. I should be here when you wrap things up at Delta.”

"Well, I'll keep my fingers crossed for you."

“Don’t worry," Sandra reassured him. "Laura and I have things under control.”

“Yes,” agreed Laura. “I’m sure the company’s safety performance will improve next quarter with the new training and work procedures.”

“I hope so,” said Sandra. “In fact, before we start, let me just get the latest HSE figures from Daniel. I’ll be back in a sec,” she said, getting up from the conference table in Hugo’s office. 

Laura heard the glass door swing shut behind her, and felt her insides twinkle.

She turned to look at Hugo and realized she was holding her breath. He returned her gaze with an intensity that said so much more than words. He took her hand and brushed his lips against her knuckles. Then he turned it over and planted a hot, wet kiss on her palm.

Laura sat there demurely while her senses exploded. 

***

"
Are you sure you'll be all right? Just the two of you?"

"Of course we will, David. Anyway, it's just for one night. Besides, we have the dogs."

"You're going to turn them loose at night, I suppose."

"Yes, David, I am. I'm more concerned with our safety than I am with the lawn."

"OK, I just hope that they don't cause too much damage during the night. Anyhow, don't forget to double-check all the doors and windows before you turn in," David reminded Laura.

"Don't worry, I won't."

"OK, baby. I'll see you tomorrow evening then."

"Enjoy your workshop, but not too much. Is the long-legged witch going to be there?"

"Who? I haven't a clue who you're talking about," David replied innocently.

"Yeah, right. Just make sure she doesn't cast any spells on you," Laura muttered.

She couldn't help feeling resentful of Joana. That self-assured, even possessive way in which she had been talking to David that day. Like a woman who was fully aware of the effect she had on men; a woman who was used to getting what she wanted.

"Laura, it's a team-building weekend. We're here to hone our leadership skills, improve our performance, increase motivation...."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Just don't get too carried away with your bonding activities," she grumbled. "Where are you now, anyway? What's that chill-out music I hear in the background?"

"I'm in the Shangri-La Bar, overlooking a gorgeous pool lit by floating candles. Quite romantic, really. And seductive."

"Bastard. Don't forget: too much play and no work makes Jack a dead boy," Laura retorted.

"I don't think that's quite how the saying goes."

"It is in my book, so beware."

"
Hey, David. What are you drinking
?"

"Hello, Joana. Just give me a moment. Laura?"

"Christ, David. That woman's voice has enough glycerine to give her Type I Diabetes.”

"It's wonderful to be appreciated," David teased her. "OK, bye now. Gotta run. Loads to do, you know."

He chuckled as he swiped his index finger across his smartphone. He loved to needle Laura; after so many years together she was still so jealous. It always amused him to see how she sized up what she perceived to be the competition. Hell, all women did. They definitely eyed one another more than men eyed them. Especially when it came to size. No matter how liberated they considered themselves, women were forever checking out who had the broadest backside or the slimmest thighs.

David pocketed his phone and swivelled around on his black leather bar stool to face Joana and Ricardo.

"Joana, my precious, what can I get you to drink?" asked Ricardo, wrapping an arm round her bare shoulders. She wore a red halter neck jersey dress that would make any priest hastily cross himself.

“I’ll have what David’s having,” she answered, slipping out from under Ricardo’s arm. “What
are
you having, David?”  She took the glass from his hand and swirled it to inspect its contents.  She stood so close to David that her ripe bosom all but jutted into his face.

“A B&C,” replied David.

“A B&C? What’s that exactly?”

David leaned back, his elbows resting on the polished hardwood bar top in an attempt to escape her mammary attack.   

“Brandy and Coke. I acquired a taste for it in South Africa. Try it. You’ll like it.”      

“Oh, I’m sure I will,” she replied, handing back his glass. The look in her eyes matched the tone of her voice.

Ricardo arched and eyebrow and signalled to the bar tender. He pointed at the glass in David’s hand and lifted two fingers.

“Well, this workshop was certainly interesting,” commented Ricardo as they waited for their drinks. “Bit of a shame that Tiago’s team won just about all the challenges, though.”

“Yes, it was, wasn’t it? David, you should organize more weekends away like this one. We could have all sorts of fun…”

“Oh, we could indeed,” agreed Ricardo. “In fact, I have a few ideas of my own that we could implement to make the most of our time here.” He stroked his perpetual two-day shadow, and brought his gaze down to Joana’s generous neckline.

Joana smirked but David pretended not to notice the innuendo.

“Tomorrow’s outdoor activities should be fun,” he said. “I’m looking forward to the zip-lining and canoeing.”

“Yeah, me too,” answered Ricardo. “Pity we have such an early start though. I like to have a bit of a lie-in on Saturday mornings.”

“Yeah, it’s getting late,” said Joana, glancing round the near empty bar. “It looks like the others have all gone to bed already, and I’d better do the same otherwise I’ll never be able to get up on time tomorrow. Are you coming, David? We’re on the same floor.”

David’s early warning system pinged loudly, alerting him that evasive action was called for.

“Actually, I’m gonna stay up a little longer and have another drink. Why don’t you two go on up? I’ll see you in the morning.”

Joana’s face hardened.

This is a first for her
, guessed David.
She’s not used to being turned down.

“Well, then, in that case, we’ll do just that, won’t we, Ricardo?” she asked, placing her hands on his shoulder.

“You bet we will.” He circled her waist, letting his hand slip lower than propriety allowed. He winked at David.
Your loss is my gain, buddy.

As Ricardo led Joana away, she looked back over her shoulder at David. The expression on her face clearly said what she thought of him.

David stared after them. “
Yeah, I’m a bloody fool
,” David silently agreed with her.