‘Let’s go and see if we can talk to any of the neighbours,’ he said.
He locked up the car and they walked round the corner. The grocery store was just opening up; the owner was drawing back the shutters and pulling down the blind for the day. He was a coloured man, thin-faced, with gaps in his teeth and a stubbled chin, wearing just a white cotton vest and shorts. His arms were strongly muscled from carting crates of bottles around and bore large tattoos: a woman’s name, a naked female body, a lizard, a wreath of flowers.
‘Can I buy a cooldrink?’ Jack said.
‘Ice-cold ginger beer, lemonade, Coca-Cola. Take your pick, baas.’
‘Ginger beer for me and the lady’ll have something as well.’
He paid for the drinks and they stood beside him drinking them down with straws.
‘Know the woman who lives across from here, Mrs Small?’
‘Yes, baas. Her kiddies come over here sometimes to buy drinks or ice pops. Good-looking woman.’
‘No husband?’
‘No, baas. He died some time back. Struck down with something bad. Not sure what it was.’
‘On her own then?’
‘Yes, baas. Her and the children. Nice kids. Well brought up. Polite. Always neat and tidy.’
‘Must be hard for her with no husband? Does she have men visiting?’
The man hesitated. He narrowed his eyes. ‘I run a grocery store, baas! I mind my own business. Keep your eyes fixed on your own affairs, I say, that way you don’t get into no trouble or anything.’
‘Just wondering if you happened to know whether a particular man visits a lot, a man of the church, dark-haired, greying at the front, heavily built?’
‘Couldn’t say. Too busy making a living to worry about other people and their lives. If I had time to sit on my backside watching what other people are up to, I wouldn’t be here selling groceries in Elsie’s River. I’d be off somewhere else, having a fine old time, living the high life!’ He turned away, opened the icebox and started filling it with bottles.
‘Thanks anyway.’ Jack put his bottle into the crate of empties and walked away, Vera following on behind.
‘That approach didn’t work too well. Maybe I was a bit too direct – he clammed up pretty quickly once I mentioned a man. Can’t be sure whether it’s because he genuinely hasn’t got anything to tell, or just isn’t saying.’
‘I’d be prepared to bet he knows all about the comings and goings. Her house is right across from here and he’s out there on the street all day long, at the front of the store, so he must see everything. Maybe he thinks you’re a policeman, or Special Branch or something?’
‘Pity he’s not more forthcoming. Let’s try the bungalow on the right.’
It was a small, squat house, with peeling paintwork and a garden that had grown out of control, weeds fighting with overlong, scrubby grass, and an old chipped sink sitting right next to the front door. A heap of tyres, a broken children’s trike, a flattened, orange-stained paddling pool and a rusty old barbecue stood on the other side, piled up against the wall, in a disorderly jumble.
As Jack got closer, he realised that the house was uninhabited. The curtains were drawn; letters and circulars were crammed into the letterbox and lay strewn on the front mat. There were no signs of life.
‘Empty,’ he said. ‘Just our luck.’
‘What about on the other side?’
‘That’s a lock-up or something. A garage or a barn for storage. All closed and padlocked. Nobody there to ask, I reckon. Let’s go back over the road and try the house next to the grocery store. Maybe someone there knows something.’
They crossed over to the neat little house, with its small patch of lawn. He was just about to knock on the green-netted outer door, when Vera tugged at his arm and pulled him quickly round to the side of the house, behind a large leafy buddleia.
‘Look,’ she whispered. ‘Over there.’
He peered out from behind the shrub. Across the road, a man was leaving Agnes Small’s home. He stood on the doorstep for several minutes talking to her. She looked around nervously, then continued the conversation, her face strained. She folded her arms; the discussion seemed to be over and the man looked as if he was about to go. He started to move but then hesitated, stopping for a moment to say one more thing. Finally, as he moved back a little, as if ready to step down from the porch, he touched her arm. Then he turned quickly and hurried down the path.
‘Oh my God,’ said Jack.
It was Johannes van Heerden.
‘That’s it, then,’ said Vera. ‘He’s guilty.’
A series of looks, a conversation that couldn’t be heard, a tiny gesture of his hand on her arm, a little pressure on the soft flesh above her elbow, and there could be little doubt about it. Jack’s heart sank. It seemed that Agnes Small and Johannes van Heerden had been having an affair.
Chapter 21
The following morning, Johannes van Heerden came into the chambers to see Jack.
Jack had spent a sleepless night churning over the trip to Elsie’s River and what he had seen. Could he, like Clara, have simply misunderstood the gesture? Was he reading too much in to it? He thought not. Both he and Vera had had the same reaction, responding to the scene in exactly the same way. On the drive back into the office, they’d talked about it.
‘There was something so intimate about it,’ Vera said. ‘The way she looked at him, the way he touched her arm. I can’t explain it really, Mr Neuberger, but it was like they knew each other really, really well.’
‘I know what you mean,’ Jack said. ‘Something about the distance between them – they stood so close to each other – the lack of a formal goodbye, a shake of the hand or a wave. And that squeeze of her arm. You wouldn’t do that if you were just offering her support. And anyway, what’s he doing back there, talking to her on his own, after everything that’s happened? It’s madness. He must know that if he were seen it would be disastrous.’
He’d talked to Renee about it when he got back in the evening. ‘I can’t really believe it,’ he said. ‘I’d been feeling pretty optimistic that we could cast serious doubt on Clara’s testimony. If Laura took the stand in support of Johannes, she would be so completely convincing – it would take a hard-hearted jury not to feel sympathy for her. And all those character witnesses would have counted for a lot. But now, I’m not sure. If he really is guilty, there’s bound to be more coming out at the trial that I don’t even know about, maybe even other witnesses waiting in the wings. The prosecution have Clara as their biggest piece of ammunition and if she saw a lot more than Vera and I did that day, she’s going to make the case against him hard to refute.’
‘Could you acknowledge some kind of relationship, but suggest it fell short of a full-blown affair? You know, they were close, they’d developed a friendship, he was showing brotherly concern for her well-being, that kind of thing.’
‘I’ve thought of that. This new law, though, it’s not just about intercourse, it’s about other sexual activity too – “immoral and indecent acts” is the phrase used. What does that mean? It hasn’t been tested yet in a court of law. In the end it’ll all be down to interpretation. A kiss, a touch, an embrace? Clothes on? Clothes off? In a bedroom, or a living room, in a garage or on a darkly lit street? All these things will be really significant. I heard of one case, under the previous law, where an advocate was defending a man accused of having sex with a coloured woman. The advocate sought to prove that it was too dark in the alley for the man to know whether she was white or not. He got the man off. Good for him, and for the man, but what a comment on this society of ours! My case may well hinge on what Clara describes and the precise words she uses, and whether there can be any doubt at all about the nature of the encounter being a sexual one. And you can be pretty sure that Willem du Toit and the
prosecution team will have thought hard about that and will have schooled her well.’
‘Poor man,’ Renee said. ‘It looks bad for him.’
‘And for his wife. God only knows what’ll happen to her. If he goes to jail, then what? Will the community support her? Or will they turn their backs on her, after all that has happened? The woman has four children! It doesn’t bear thinking about. But even if I manage to get a good verdict for him, and he gets off, or has his sentence suspended, I wonder whether she’d stay with him? I doubt that they’d be able to remain at the church – there’s too much feeling against him for them to just forgive and forget.’
‘You mustn’t eat yourself up about it, though. You can only do your best, after all. You’re an advocate, not a miracle worker.’
He’d nodded; she was right, of course, but that didn’t stop waves of anxiety from engulfing him. The arguments for the defence were draining away quickly and his options were becoming increasingly limited. In just a few weeks’ time he’d be standing up in court, desperately trying to succeed for his client, but with all the odds now stacked against him.
‘I hope when the baby comes you’re not going to be stuck with a case that swallows you up like this one has! We hardly talk about anything else these days. You’ll have another little person to think about then, you know. I realise how important your work is to you and I don’t usually complain – I’m an absolute angel – but she’s going to want a bit of your time, you know! She might be more demanding on you than I am! I reckon she’s going to be a tough little cookie, given all the kicking she’s been doing.’
He smiled. ‘He’s going to get lots of my time, I promise you. But, as my father never ceased to say, I do have a living to make, and this particular path I’ve chosen doesn’t happen to be one that you can easily forget about the minute you turn the key in the lock and say, “I’m home!” But you’re right, my darling, you are an angel. Why do you think I married you?’
He came over and kissed her tenderly, then placed his hand on the swelling shape under her dress and patted it softly.
‘I want him to have a father he can be proud of.’
‘Whatever it is, a boy or a girl, they couldn’t fail to be proud of you, Jack. Our child will learn all her menschishkeit from you.’
He didn’t reply. He wondered whether Renee realised what was at stake in this trial, when she showed such support for his principles, such trust in his basic decency. Had she really understood the possible consequences for them? Soon they would not just be a couple; they’d have a child to think of as well and the thought of watching his budding career wither on the stem was a difficult one to contemplate. He felt he was moving into unknown territory. With the Special Branch already paying the occasional ‘friendly’ visit, life could get difficult, but how difficult wasn’t clear. He’d heard about one or two people he’d known as acquaintances at varsity, men a few years older, who’d got involved with black activist groups. One in particular, Sol Levine, had been quite a close friend. While doing his medical training, he had been recruited to work with a banned group, which had been threatening to blow up government buildings and installations. Sol’s wife, Thelma, had been given a tip-off that the Special Branch were coming for him, so he fled one night, crossing the border into Botswana, leaving her and the family behind. Jack didn’t think he was at risk from the Special Branch in that way – he wasn’t a terrorist after all – but nevertheless, life could become uncomfortable. He would almost certainly be watched, and a successful career as an advocate might well be put at risk.
Jack was thinking of Renee and the baby and this conversation when Vera announced van Heerden’s arrival through the intercom and then ushered him into the office. He was looking ashen-faced. He had clearly lost some weight and his suit was hanging loose on him. There were dark rings under his eyes and a weariness about his whole demeanour that suggested a man in despair. But nevertheless he came up to Jack with a quick stride, shook his hand strongly and greeted him with an attempt at a cheery smile. Trying to keep up the appearance of confidence, thought Jack. Trying not to give too much away.
‘Well, Mr Neuberger, I expect by now you’ve talked to all the people you need to. They’re going to speak up for me in court, ja? All going OK with the case, ja?’
Jack hesitated. He’d been planning on getting pretty much straight to the point, letting him know that he’d seen him with Mrs Small the previous evening. That way he might catch him unawares, before his defences were up; he’d stand a chance of breaking down the fortress that he’d so carefully constructed for himself. They could then start all over again, begin to search the rubble and see if there was any way of salvaging something from the debris. He wanted to just get it over with, rather than tiptoe around. But van Heerden’s wan face and his wishful, optimistic words left Jack floundering. It was too hard to brutally come out with it, just like that, though he knew he’d be forced to sooner or later.
‘Not so good, Mr van Heerden, I’m afraid. Some really nice people from your church that I’ve talked to and I think they’ll speak up for you in court – they’ll vouch for your good character. But Clara Joubert, that’s a real blow.’
‘Ah, yes, Clara Joubert.’
‘Your wife’s talked to you about coming to see me, I’m sure. She gave me some of the background to the whole thing. She gave me her view of it and her thoughts on why Clara’s saying what she is. But it’s still a problem for us.’
‘Ja, of course. Clara’s a problem, I see that. But you know she’s not so stable, Mr Neuberger. She’s got a vivid imagination, gets things out of proportion, exaggerates a bit. She’s known for that. Everyone says so. And she sways with the tide. What’s that phrase from Shakespeare again? “Like to a vagabond flag upon the stream, Goes to and back, lackeying the varying tide, To rot itself with motion.” Antony and Cleopatra. I studied that speech at school. Clara’s like that. A vagabond flag. That’s a reed, you know, Mr Neuberger, a flag. A reed, floating this way and that in the breeze. But why am I telling you all this? I’m getting off the point. Clara, she’s been Laura’s closest friend since they were girls but, to be honest, I’ve always wondered why. She’s easily led, that girl. She’s obviously got persuaded by Dirk Fourie and his lot, and by those parents of hers of course. They’ve got it in for me for some reason and they’ve been looking for an excuse to get rid of me, oust me from the church. I’m sure Laura told you that too. So we can say all that in court, can’t we? We can say about her being easily led, about her parents and so on. Her evidence won’t be believed, will it, if we tell them what she’s like? Not a reliable witness.’
‘I’m not sure it’s quite as simple as that, Mr van Heerden.’
‘I can get other people to back that up, if you like. There’s others will say just the same. They’ll tell you a similar story about her.’
‘Like who?’
He hesitated. ‘Laura has agreed to speak. She’ll tell the court what she thinks of Clara’s behaviour. It’ll be tough on her, I know, but she’s willing to do it for me.’
‘That will be very helpful, Mr van Heerden. I’m sure your wife will be a great asset.’ He pulled his chair forward and swept his hand through his hair. This was it. It had to be done. ‘Look, Mr van Heerden, something else has happened that I need to talk to you about.’ He paused. ‘I need to know the truth now, Johannes, so I have to tell you something that’s been worrying me about your case.’
Van Heerden flushed. Beads of sweat seemed to suddenly appear from nowhere on his brow. He wiped his face with his hand and sat forward in his chair, his legs wide in front of him, planted firmly on the floor, as if keeping him in place.
‘I was in Elsie’s River yesterday. I saw you coming out of Agnes Small’s house.’
There was a long silence. The man sat completely still, as if turned to stone, his face chalky pale, his eyes inten
tly focused on Jack. For what seemed like an interminable time, he said nothing. Then, all at once, his words came out in a sudden rush. ‘I went to talk to her about the case. I wanted to tell her how it was going and find out what her advocate is doing, what line he’s taking. I wanted to reassure her. It was innocent, Mr Neuberger, perfectly harmless. I felt concerned for the poor woman.’
‘Not very sensible, going to her house alone, though, given the nature of the case, surely?’
‘I couldn’t help myself. I was worried about her.’
‘Wanting to make sure your stories tallied? Share with her the fact that Clara Joubert had seen you together?’
‘No, Mr Neuberger.’
‘Wanting to ask her advice on what to do?’
‘No.’
‘Just wanting to see her again, perhaps? You’ve not been able to visit since all this blew up and you’ve been missing her.’
‘No.’
‘Johannes, I saw the two of you on the stoep, talking.’
There was silence.
‘I saw enough to know that there’s more to this story than what you’ve told me so far.’ He said it gently, speaking quietly, wanting to soften the blow.
The man looked up at him, as if weighing his words carefully. He was perfectly still, his only movement a nervous pulling at his lip with his top teeth.
Then suddenly, with no prior warning, he collapsed into a flood of tears. His cries brought Vera running in from the outside office.
Off the Voortrekker Road Page 20
