‘Come and eat.’ She smiled at him in her special, provocative way.
James swallowed hard. Sue watched his Adam’s apple push against his neck like a metal spring in an old bed, trembling, rising and falling.
Before they sat down, Sue moved forward and offered him her lips. He responded boldly, taking her in his arms and kissing her with enthusiasm. Each kiss, like the oncoming tide, was an advance on its predecessor. As his hands roamed toward her breasts, Sue stepped back.
‘Mmm, James, this is so exciting,’ she said. ‘But the soup’s getting cold. Don’t let’s rush things. We’ve got all night.’
She moved away briskly and sat at the table, smiling up at him. With some difficulty, James pulled himself together and sank into a chair, flushed and panting. It was clear he was aroused. Very aroused.
‘Twister comes next,’ Sue said, ‘and its success depends on you, James, it all depends on you.’
Then she laughed. Not the soft, sweet, self-effacing laugh that she always used around James Wilmot. This was a true Sue Kellon laugh – loud and uninhibited. A tiny speck of something – was it doubt? – crept into his eyes and his expression changed. He looked at her sharply.
Recovering quickly, Sue rose and walked around the table. She took his hand and guided it against her thighs. She let his fingers explore the taut, satin skin, and as he groaned with pleasure his doubts melted and disappeared.
20
5 July 2006
It was after one in the morning when Sue opened the front door of her cottage and released the dishevelled figure of James Wilmot into the darkness of Graham Street. She closed the door and leaned back against it for a few minutes with her eyes closed. The evening had gone according to plan. She’d got what she wanted. So had James Wilmot. She had choreographed an experience he would remember for the rest of his life. During dinner she had teased and flirted with him, constantly tracing her upper lip with the tip of her tongue, whilst he stared fascinated.
‘What’s your daily routine like, James?’ she purred. ‘Tell me exactly what you do, so I can visualise it.’
He went through his daily routine – going for a walk, showering, dressing and going to the bank.
‘This is boring,’ he said, laughing.
‘No, it’s not, James. I want to know everything about you,’ she said in the little-girl voice he loved. ‘What happens when you get to the bank?’
‘I open it all up, let the others in and we all start work,’ he said.
‘Oh James, that’s really important. You’re the one who holds the key to the bank?’
‘Yes, well I am the – the manager.’ Her long, slim legs were distracting him and he stumbled on the words. Now her hand was on his thigh: stroking, moving upward.
He swallowed. ‘Actually, it’s not a key, it’s a card. Rather like a complicated credit card.’
‘What does it look like?’
He fished in his pocket and brought out an access card, swinging on its silver chain.
‘Oh, James,’ she sighed. ‘It’s all so sexy, all these electronic devices, all that responsibility.’
He lay back on the sofa while she continued her stroking. Feathery fingers touched him delicately and he shuddered. Then Sue laid the Twister mat down on the floor. It was a silly game, but it opened doors to pleasure he’d never imagined.
When the Twister spinner was thrown, it demanded the player put two parts of his body on the Twister mat... two new parts every turn. You had to be a contortionist to play. Falling over, trying to place an arm in one corner and a leg in another, resulted in a forfeit and Sue’s rules demanded that the forfeit be a piece of clothing. James was clumsy, ungainly and with each turn he stumbled and slipped.
‘This isn’t fair,’ he said laughing in embarrassment.
‘It’s all to do with trust, James. No holding back. I tell you what,’ Sue said, slipping off one strappy sandal, ‘you forfeit when you can’t do it, I’ll forfeit when I can.’
James held nothing back as she forfeited her other sandal and earrings and he scrambled out of his jacket and shirt. He grew bolder as she stripped off the clinging turquoise dress, standing before him in a revealing bra and tiny lace G-string. She was his slave and he was the master. He forfeited most of his clothes until they finally stood in front of each other, almost naked. From then on, it was a teasing mixture of pain and pleasure, forfeit after forfeit, as they tied one another up, and played outrageous games with silken ribbons. He ran his hands over her body; she stroked him through his shorts, whispering encouragement.
‘Now comes the next part,’ she murmured. ‘Tell me your most secret thing.’
‘My most secret thing?’ he asked. ‘Well, I haven’t got any secrets really; the only secrets I’ve got are to do with my work at the bank.’
‘That’s fine, James. That will do perfectly. It’s a trust thing.’
He stopped for a moment. ‘I’m not sure that... well, I can’t really...’
Sue moved away from him. She stood briskly, pulling the turquoise dress back over her head and smoothing it down her body in the most provocative way.
‘This is the whole point of the game, James. We have to be able to trust each other totally. No secrets. Shall I tell you my biggest secret? What I’ve been thinking about since we met? It’s quite shocking.’ She smiled and bent to slip on her shoes. ‘On second thoughts, perhaps I’d better not...?’
‘No, please tell me, tell me,’ he begged.
‘Well, you and I have such good sexual chemistry. I fantasise that we go away together... maybe to Mauritius... to a dark nightclub, somewhere on a beach, on a balmy night, a place where only men can go. Men who want me. Men who envy you because you’re with me. I don’t want to shock you; I’m going to be completely honest, just like you should be with me. I’m naked in an enclosed circle. Nobody can come inside the circle with me. Men watch while I dance for them. That’s my secret. I want to drive them mad. They can’t touch me. Only you are allowed to come inside the circle and touch me. Only you James... but not straight away.’
Sue glanced at Wilmot under her lashes. He was panting and red faced.
‘Do it, do it – dance for me,’ he commanded, his voice so hoarse she hardly recognised it.
She laughed. ‘Only if you promise to tell me your secrets, all your secrets.’
‘Yes,’ he groaned. ‘I promise.’
Sue stood in the middle of the Twister mat and spun in a circle, her arms extended.
‘This is the circle James. Can you see it? Now, remember I choose the conditions. I want you to promise that you won’t cross into the circle until I say so.’
‘I promise.’
She stood for a moment looking at him. She knew she looked like an angel, with her long blonde hair floating around her shoulders. Then she began to peel off the turquoise dress, very, very slowly.
He caught his breath as she stood naked, apart from the tiny G-string, lifting her arms above her head, pivoting like a ballerina. Her long, firm legs led up to the ripe cheeks of her buttocks, her nipples stood out darkly against the rosy skin of her breasts. He stumbled forward, reaching for her.
‘One more step and you’re out of the game,’ she said in an angry voice that she could see frightened him. He fell back, watching her. She smiled her secret smile.
‘Please,’ he begged. ‘Please...’
Gazing into his eyes, Sue slowly slid off the G-string. ‘Are you ready to tell me your secrets? We can’t go on otherwise. It means you don’t trust me. How can we go further if you don’t trust me?’
Through dry lips he began to describe the combination of the vault locks, where the safety deposit boxes were lodged. But he wouldn’t divulge the security code he used on entering the bank. He explained how he changed the combinations every night. He described how the new combinations were sent from Johannesburg each day to his cell phone. Nobody knew the combination but him. He couldn’t... mustn’t... give those combinations away. He had
signed confidentiality agreements that couldn’t be broken. Not under any circumstances. He had said too much already.
‘You don’t have to tell me the combinations, James,’ Sue whispered. ‘You could just show me the cell phone; you don’t have to say anything.’
He shook his head. ‘I can’t,’ he said. ‘I just can’t.’
She stepped out of the chalk circle and pressed her naked body against him.
‘Don’t worry, James. Come.’ She led him to the rug in front of the fireplace. ‘Lie down.’
He lay helpless while Sue knelt astride him.
‘Please...’ he begged, ‘please...’
She lowered her hips. He was entirely in her power, his balance and reason had vanished. There was only her body enclosing him, suffocating him, enveloping him, promising him ecstasy. She was irresistible and this was the crowning hour of Wilmot’s life. He was a maestro and this was the performance of his lifetime.
‘You don’t have to do anything else, James. You’ve proved yourself to me. Now lie still and show that you trust me,’ the little-girl-lost voice, tinged with pornographic visions, drove James Wilmot over the edge. Lost in a churning sea of ecstasy he couldn’t hold back. The walls of Jericho came tumbling down as Wilmot experienced the climax of his life.
‘That was great, wasn’t it?’ Sue kissed him gently.
James stared at her in sleepy wonder. ‘You ..., oh my God, I’ve never...’
‘I know... nor have I’. Sue stroked his cheek, watched as his eyes closed. Then she rolled away from him and reached into the pocket of his jacket. It only took a minute to find the codes and scribble them down. She slipped his phone back and leaned back and watched him. She’d give him another ten minutes or so and then wake him up and fuck him stupid again. James Wilmot would pay dearly for his evening of pleasure, but Sue would make sure that she was worth every cent.
21
5 July 2006 – morning
My hired car turned slowly into the entrance of the Sisters of Mercy Convent on the northern outskirts of Port Elizabeth.
Dogs barking, children laughing and playing on the grass told me I was in the right place. The new orphanage was a low, modern building, set among vegetable gardens. There were swings on the lawn and I saw a cluster of housemothers, dressed in pink, playing with the children. As I got out of the car a well-padded woman broke away from the group. With children clinging to her skirt and hanging from her arms, she made her way to me, laughing. Mama Elsie was active for a woman in her seventies. She’d hardly changed since we last met.
‘Thabisa,’ she called. ‘Is it really you?’
‘Mama Elsie, yes, it’s me,’ I said. I was enveloped in a bear hug that felt like a big, warm blanket engulfing me.
‘Let me see you, child.’ Mama Elsie held me at arm’s length. She shook her head vigorously. ‘Ai, but you are like your mother. And your eyes! I can’t believe the ancestors haven’t called you for themselves, to be a sangoma.’
‘I’m too much trouble for them,’ I said dryly.
Mama Elsie’s real name was Mashadi Nombuso Tswane. She was seventy- five years old, a younger half-sister of Chief Solenkosi Tswane. She had worked in the convent and orphanage for more than forty years, ever since her husband died in an accident in a gold mine in Johannesburg. Now, at a time when she should be sitting in the sun and dreaming, she cooked, washed and cared for orphaned children.
‘What can I do?’ she asked me. ‘So many children are left without parents because of this terrible sickness. We must all try to help.’
‘You are doing good work, Mama,’ I said.
‘Somebody must look after them. I will work as long as I can.’
After a rough-and-tumble game on the lawn with the children, and the exchange of traditional greetings with some of the other housemothers, I took Mama Elsie’s hand. ‘Let’s talk.’
Mama Elsie led me down a maze of corridors to a small cottage at the back of the orphanage. The full folds of her skirt swung and her movements flowed with dignity and authority.
‘This is my place,’ she said.
It was small, but cosy. Mama Elsie’s red blankets were folded neatly on the end of her bed. Cups and saucers were stacked next to her cooking pots on a shelf. The shabby chair held a pink velvet cushion.
Mama Elsie took a red tray, laid it with a blackened tea kettle and flowered cups and saucers. She added a large slice of cake. ‘Let’s sit,’ she said. In valley tradition, we settled ourselves on a grass floor mat and wrapped a blanket around our legs.
Only after we’d had tea and exchanged small talk, did she fix her eyes on me.
‘So, my child, what brings you here? We haven’t seen you for many months. Not since the orphanage was built.’
‘Forgive me, Mama,’ I said. ‘Now that I’m in Johannesburg, I can’t travel that freely. I have a very busy job.’
Mama Elsie’s face creased with amusement. ‘Yes, the world has grown very busy. There are new people everywhere and everyone is rushing. I can’t think why we are all so busy these days. In the valley it’s still quiet. That is why I like being there. There is time to think. When will you go back my child, and see your grandfather?’
‘I saw him last week. He is well.’
Mama Elsie looked at me in surprise.
‘So you have returned to the valley?’
I nodded. ‘It was police business.’
‘This world is selfish, full of bad, dangerous people,’ said Mama Elsie. ‘We need the police more than ever before to keep them in order. It is good to live in the city, where so much happens, but it is a wonderful thing to go back to your roots, Thabisa. There’s no need for explanations. Everybody is linked to you.’
I sighed. ‘Yes, Mama, that’s true. But what about you? It’s far for you to travel. It must take you a long time to reach the valley. How do you manage the cliffs? It’s a very hard journey.’
‘I manage,’ said Mama Elsie firmly. ‘I like to see the people and hear the valley news every year. So I manage.’
I didn’t comment. I knew Mama Elsie enjoyed relaxing into the rhythms of rural life, sitting with old friends in the sun, sipping bush tea and gossiping. I smiled to myself. Mama Elsie had the best of both worlds. She might long for the valley, but she also admitted to enjoying the town way of doing things: running water, the electric hotplate, cotton sheets on her bed, the small fridge in the corner. But most important of all, her work was here.
Mama Elsie interrupted my thoughts. ‘Nothing is as fine as one’s own home-place, Thabisa. Remember our river? All through the village you can see it shining and hear it sing. It’s a beautiful thing to go home, Thabisa.’
I smiled and nodded. Mama Elsie continued: ‘I never wanted to leave, you know, but your grandfather arranged a husband for me when I was sixteen.’
‘That was very young, Mama. Did you want to get married?’ I asked.
‘Your grandfather insisted,’ Mama Elsie continued. ‘He cared about the cattle. He got good lobola for me.’
‘Yes, you’re right,’ I said quietly.
‘Don’t look so sad, my girl. I was very lucky. He chose a good husband for me. Nzeku. A very shy, kind young man. He had already left the valley to work on the mines. He had a good job, so I left my home and went with him. It was very hard at first. We lived in the township. Ai – such a noisy, loud place! But listen to me going on like this. You know all my stories, Thabisa.’
‘I do, Mama, but I like to hear you tell them.’
Mama smiled. ‘Just like the children here, Thabisa. You all love a story.’ Her eyes softened as she gazed back into the past. ‘Yes, Nzeku was a good man. We never had children, which was very sad for us both. Then he died in the mine accident and I came here to this convent. At first I was a cleaner, but later I became a housemother.’
I took her hand in mine. ‘You are happy, Mama?’
‘This is good work, Thabisa. As a young woman I dreamed of being a nurse, you know. I did not want
to get married so young, but that was our custom. You were lucky, Thabisa. Solenkosi allowed you to go to school. And now, you have the chance to work, to choose to be a wife and mother.’
‘My grandfather doesn’t see it like that,’ I said. ‘He is disappointed in me.’
‘Don’t be too swift to condemn him, Thabisa. He hopes that one day you will give him strong sons. Well, great-grandsons, I suppose they will be.’ Mama Elsie chuckled. ‘We are all getting older.’
‘Why did he let me go to school, Mama?’
‘He wanted somebody to learn for the valley. Your teacher, Mrs Talbot’s husband, spoke to Solenkosi about this. He was a man who knew how to make your grandfather listen. He spoke perfect isiXhosa and he was a kind man. He showed Solenkosi how bright you were. An asset to the valley.’
She stopped and looked at me directly. ‘But this is not why you are here, Thabisa. You did not come to talk about old times in the valley. Something is troubling you... Tell me, what is it?’
I smiled. Mama Elsie had always been able to see into my heart. I had spoken to her in my troubled times, when my grandfather had forced me to leave the valley, and again when I was at New Brighton police station. She listened carefully and gave good advice.
‘Mama, I’ve come to talk to you about my father and uncles. About what happened to them.’
Mama Elsie sat still for a few moments. Then she drew in her breath and shook her head. ‘He was a rebel, that boy. He married our gentle Pomola, and broke our hearts.’
‘Are you talking about my father?’
Silence. Mama Elsie shook her head. ‘All of them. I remember all of them. So young.’
‘What happened? Please tell me, Mama Elsie. I have often tried to ask but nobody answers. Who else will tell me?’
‘Pomola wanted to marry Zikhali, but he was not amaQaba and Solenkosi refused. Instead, Pomola had to marry Fezile, Solenkosi’s choice from when they were infants. The lobola was paid.’
Now I See You Page 17
