Sex, Lies & Stellenbosch

by Eva Mazza

  “You will come home. Do you hear me? That’s what families do; they support each other. Dad has lost his best friend.”

  She heard Pete snort.

  “Don’t underestimate Dad’s loss, Pete. Anyway, the reality is that you’re needed, so swallow your pride and do the right thing.”

  Brigit packed a small bag for her stay at the farm. Despite her father’s shenanigans with Patty, he needed her, and she needed to be around other people who were grieving. Although nobody knew the extent of their friendship, she could at least openly mourn Lee’s death with those she loved. Up until now, the only person she had shared her losses and problems with was her psychologist, and recently Lee, who was now lost to her too.

  Twenty-nine

  It was past eleven o’clock when Jen walked in to Claudia’s apartment feeling extremely satisfied. She had taken herself and her life’s experience to a whole new level and she was pleased rather than guilty or embarrassed at the outcome. Her audacity had been out of character. She knew it was a once-off, but after all that she had been through, she felt that she had nothing to lose. John’s indiscretions had made her feel stupid and embarrassed, and interminably un-sexy. The evening had empowered and emboldened her, and now she felt ready to take on anything.

  Jen sat at the foot of the bed and turned on her cellphone. John had messaged her several times as had Frankie and Pete. Brigit had tried calling her too. Probably worried where she was. She had nothing to say to John, or Frankie for that matter, but she ought to let Brig know that she was okay. She could rely on her to relay the news that she was fine. She sent her a voice note. “I’m staying at a friend’s place in the city. My appointment finished late and I didn’t want to drive back home in the rain. I have another appointment in the morning, so it seemed pointless, driving back tomorrow. Please tell everyone I’m fine.”

  Her phone rang as soon as the message was delivered. “Mom, have you not retrieved any of your messages? Daddy and I have been trying desperately to reach you.”

  She had had such a fabulous evening. Did she really need this angst? Brigit’s prima donna histrionics would put a dampener on everything.

  “Brigit, I’m really tired. I told you not to worry.”

  She slipped off her sandals and untied her dress.

  “Mom, Lee was killed in a car accident! We’ve been trying to reach you the whole day! It’s close to midnight. Where’ve you been? Frankie needs you. We all need you. Couldn’t you tell by all the missed calls that something was wrong?”

  Jen had stopped listening. The last thing she had heard was “car accident” and the shock had all but blocked out Brigit’s voice.

  “Mom, are you listening to me? Are you there?”

  Jen slumped onto the bed. Her hand rubbed her forehead vigorously. She didn’t know what to say.

  “Give me the phone!” Jen heard John bellow in the background, and then he was on the line. “Where the fuck have you been? We’ve been trying to reach you the whole day. For God’s sake, I called you about a thousand times. What’s wrong with you, Jen?” His tone softened. “Lee has been killed in a car accident. You need to come home.” The words shook her out of her stupor. “Support Frankie and Clive. We all need you right now.”

  Jen finally spoke, and it sounded to her like her voice was coming from far away. “Who’s with you?”

  “We’re all here. Except you. You know how bad it looks? I didn’t know what to say to everyone. Not knowing where you are. Frankie’s best friend, so jarringly absent and let’s not talk about you being the only wife AWOL!”

  “Stop, John. Just stop fucking talking. You are the last person to talk about what things look like.” Jen would not allow him a retort. “I have a very important meeting tomorrow morning that I won’t cancel.”

  “What?”

  She stood up and walked to the window. The black and turbulent ocean brought a shiver down her spine.

  “My driving through tomorrow is not going to bring Lee back,” she said resolutely.

  “Have you completely lost your mind? Of course, it’s not going to bring him back. What it will do is show that you care. If not for me then for your best friend who has lost her husband.” He then asked, “What’s so important that you can’t give your best friend your condolences?”

  “Our divorce, John,” she said matter-of-factly. “And I’m not going to drop everything now that I have set the wheels in motion. Let me speak to Pete, please.”

  She heard him say to Pete, “Maybe you can talk some sense into your mother. She’s lost her fucking mind.”

  Then Pete’s voice. Her darling ally. “Hey, Ma. How you?”

  “I’m fine, under the circumstances. Hun, I need you to do me a favour. You can’t tell anyone – Dad, Brig, no one. Can you do this for me?”

  “As long as it doesn’t mean I’m complicit in your suicide or someone’s murder.”

  “Thanks, darling. Go where no one can hear us, and I’ll tell you what to do.”

  She heard the background sounds change as Pete stepped onto the veranda, the rain pelting down on the tin roof.

  After she had issued him with his instructions, she heard him hesitate.

  “It’s going to be quite hard to scrounge in your cupboard without Dad seeing me, but I’ll try, Ma. I’ll try.”

  Once she’d said goodbye, Jen fell into bed. She was shattered, but there were no tears and there was no sleep. Her thoughts raced. She could not make sense of Lee’s death, so she tried pushing it aside. She had to disengage from this tragedy, she thought to herself. I need to try to focus on what needs to be done and that is to move forward without John. She knew that if she stopped to do ‘the right thing’, it could change the urgency of her decision, and she knew he would use this lull to persuade her that divorce was not an option, that she had nowhere else to go.

  She could not bring herself to console Frankie, even though she knew that Lee would have wanted her to pretend for the sake of appearances. Maybe two days ago she would have, but now she would not compromise herself, even if it meant that she would be the one who would face the wrath of her friends and family.

  The next morning, Jen did not feel as resolute. The reality of Lee’s death and the way he had died began to dawn on her and an overwhelming sadness made her less determined about what she had to do.

  The offices of Mazwai, Mantzel, Opilet and Associates were a few blocks away from Sharon’s rooms. They were beautifully appointed and occupied the third and fourth floors. What struck Jen most about the formality of the space was the informality and ease with which the employees negotiated their way around it. The atmosphere was busy but relaxed, and the people seemed friendly and welcoming, which eased her nerves.

  Leonard Mazwai’s secretary collected her bang on time. She smiled, parting voluminous red lips that seemed to overwhelm the rest of her perfect facial features.

  “Mrs Pearce, I’m Angie, Leonard’s secretary.” Jen stood up and they shook hands. “We’re on the next floor. Please follow me.”

  Jen followed her into the lift. She had contemplated suggesting the stairs, but noticing the heels Angie was wearing, decided against it.

  The fourth floor was much the same as the third. Next to the receptionist’s desk, which Angie occupied, were two office doors, one bearing Leonard’s name and the other Ron Opilet’s. Angie worked for both attorneys, it seemed.

  Carpets soundproofed the clicking heels most of the women chose to wear. The firm’s brand colours were introduced in the cadet-grey and Oxford-blue cushions and the striped upholstery of the couches and office chairs. On one of the walls hung a Kentridge artwork – a charcoal and pastel drawing that Jen studied while she waited to be summoned into Leonard’s office. On the opposite wall were framed pictures of what Jen assumed were the company’s esteemed clients. She noticed some dignitaries among them and was impressed but also afraid at how much Mazwai, Mantzel, Opilet and Associates must charge per hour. She didn’t think being friends with Claudia
or the fact that she was just a housewife would hold much sway over her final bill.

  After she had filled out her personal details and read and signed the terms and conditions of the firm, she followed Angie to the boardroom. Angie pushed open the glass door and offered Jen a seat on one of the Philippe Starck chairs strategically placed around an antique mahogany table. In front of each chair were neat folders and pens bearing the law firm’s name, as well as water and a bowl of mints.

  Jen was the sole occupant, and Angie enquired whether she would care for tea or coffee.

  “A strong whisky,” she joked.

  “That can be arranged, Mrs Pearce,” she winked. “Anything but narcotics.”

  Jen laughed. She liked this Angie. “Well, good to know. I’ll start with a strong espresso. Double, please, Angie.”

  Jen recognised Leonard Mazwai from the photographs on Claudia’s wall. He was exactly as they had portrayed him: tall and unbelievably handsome with his afro and black-framed glasses. He is also courteous, Jen thought as he stepped aside to allow Angie to exit before he entered the boardroom. Men in suits didn’t excite Jen but he looked dapper in charcoal, the pants tapered at the ankles and the jacket unbuttoned to reveal a finely striped purple shirt with a pin collar; the gold pin held a butter-yellow tie firmly in place. His look was accessorised with an antique Cartier wristwatch, which he glanced at before apologising for being a little late.

  “I’m Leonard. I’ve heard so much about you that I feel I know you well.”

  Jen shook his hand shyly. She wasn’t sure what he knew about her, but she did feel a little self-conscious. She adjusted her wrap dress to show less cleavage and in that instant she had a sudden flashback to her night with Myron, remembering that he and Leonard were friends. She blushed.

  Leonard didn’t seem to notice, and he gestured for her to sit. “Listen, Jen, things seem to have unfolded at a rapid pace. Sharon said you’d like to file for divorce.”

  “Yes,” Jen said. “I’d like you to work on an interim settlement.”

  “Okay, we can talk about that in detail later.”

  Jen nodded, holding her breath. It seemed that Leonard had much more on his mind that he wished to divulge.

  “I’m really sorry to hear of the death of Lee Holms. He was a client of ours, so we are distraught, to say the least.”

  “A client here?” Jen said confused. John, Lee and all their friends used Grant van Rooyen, an old friend and firmly entrenched Stellenbosch local, as their lawyer.

  “Well, we are one of the firms that represent him, and this is where things have really ‘developed’, unbeknown to us. I hope that this isn’t a conflict of interest, but another person we represent is Patty Klein.” Jen looked back at Leonard blankly.

  “Patty, your husband’s former employee?”

  What? Jen shifted uncomfortably. “I’m not sure how this would be a conflict of interest unless I want to sue her, which I don’t. I want to sue my husband for a divorce. She happens to be one of his many, um, liaisons, and the fact that you represent her is a coincidence to say the least. Why would this be a conflict of interest?”

  “Well, we have been instructed by Ms Patty Klein to approach you regarding a matter that involves you. She was instructed to oversee this matter by your late friend, Lee Holms.”

  Jen didn’t have the foggiest notion what Leonard was going on about. She wasn’t registering what he was saying, and she wasn’t really interested for that matter. All she wanted was to get on with the discussions around her divorce and be done with Patty. She realised that she felt absolutely nothing for the woman; except perhaps minuscule gratitude. If not for Patty, she would still be the pitiful wife of John Pearce.

  “You’re talking in riddles, Leonard. It’s been quite an emotional few days, so I’m not sure if it’s that or if I’m just plain stupid. I’m sorry, but I really don’t understand what you’re trying to say to me.”

  “Jen, Patty is the one who delivered the photos of your husband to our offices. We didn’t know this up until this morning. She was instructed to do this by her employer, Lee Holms. Following his death, she now has the awkward task of handling his ‘business’ affairs, which coincidentally involves you.”

  At that moment, Angie walked in with Jen’s espresso. Jen gulped it down, scalding her tongue.

  Leonard waited until she’d finished before continuing. “I’m really asking your permission to allow Patty to speak with you. If you would prefer another lawyer to handle your divorce, then you are well within your rights. Patty, through Lee, was our client before you, though, so we are legally bound to her. We are able to represent you, but that is only if you do not feel that this will pose a conflict.”

  Jen squared her shoulders; she needed to get to the bottom of whatever was going on.

  “Leonard, I’m still confused. Patty is Lee’s employee? How can that be when, up until Sunday, she worked for my husband?”

  “It is a little complicated, and that is why it’s best if she explains to you directly what has been going on and why she has been instructed to take care of her employer’s business, which, as I have said, involves you. When you asked me to represent you, I had absolutely no idea that Lee Holms was a friend, and even if he were, it would’ve been of no consequence, until his death yesterday.”

  “God!” Jen exclaimed. “What ‘business’ could Lee have with me? And why do I have to deal with her? Can I not just deal with her lawyer?”

  “I suppose you could. But she has insisted she speak to you directly, with representation of course. That is why I have scheduled our meeting in the boardroom.”

  Jen sighed.

  “Is that an okay?” Leonard asked gently.

  “Do I have a choice? She is, as you pointed out, a client of yours. As a matter of interest, where do I stand? Am I still your client?”

  “You most definitely are if you decide after this meeting that you would still like me to represent you.”

  “Well, let’s see; if there’s a ‘conflict’, as you put it, then you’ll have to refer me to someone else.”

  As she spoke, Jen could see Patty walking towards the boardroom through the glass panelling along one wall. She didn’t look like the Patty Jen knew. She walked with a stoop. Her hair had been pulled back from her unmade face and her eyes were puffy and red, evidence that she had been crying. Jen felt a spurt of sympathy. She knew this was crazy, but Patty looked so alone and sad. So vulnerable. How was this even possible?

  Thirty

  Pete hadn’t expected such a big gathering on Frankie’s farm that Thursday; all her book club friends were rallying around her. His mother was conspicuous in her absence. He briefly joined the men, huddled in Lee’s den with Rita, Lee’s faithful bookkeeper, making funeral arrangements and discussing the future of Holms Wine Estate, trading as HWE Wines, and how they could assist Frankie in organising the running of the business until Clive was ready to take over.

  Typical of Lee that everything is already in place, Pete thought. Hennie, the farm’s respected and loyal winemaker who had been in Lee’s employ for the last fifteen years, and who was very much in charge of production on the farm, would continue to do what he had won awards doing: produce internationally acclaimed wines. As far as the vineyards were concerned, Lee had promoted Sarel to farm manager five years ago, as he had proved to be another loyal and committed worker. He had since done a sterling job taking care of the labourers and the vineyards, making sure that everything – planting, spraying and harvesting the grapes – happened right on time, and to Lee’s high standards. As far as the marketing and business side was concerned, Lee had been grooming his son, Clive, for that role, but most of the admin was handled by Rita, a seemingly sweet little old lady, clad in a hand-knitted pastel-coloured jumper, who was not as benign as she seemed. Lee had inherited her with the farm, so she knew how to handle most things independently of her boss. She also saw to the wine reps and the sales and tasting staff, and boy, did they fear her wr
ath if anything went wrong.

  The men agreed that, for the time being, Frankie would be okay. Lee had seen to it that the farm practically ran itself. All Frankie needed was time and a little guidance so that she could steer the boat until Clive had finished his studies.

  Pete hadn’t had a chance to sympathise with Clive, who suggested that he give up university to take over the business full-time. He could study through correspondence. Most of the men insisted that he complete his studies, that Lee would have wanted it that way.

  The discussion over Clive’s future choices irritated Pete as he was, after all, old enough to make his own decision. He took this opportunity to make his exit.

  His friend acknowledged him by a slight nod of his head as he made his way to the door. Clive was a mixture of both his parents: tall like his dad, yet with an athletic build that Frankie always attributed to her good genes. He was lucky enough to have been blessed with his father’s blue eyes and Frankie’s sex appeal, which, although she wasn’t on Pete’s list of favourite people, he had to concede she possessed. The two boys would socialise occasionally, and he had seen first hand how popular he was amongst the girls.

  Unlike Pete, Clive had always been very close to both his parents. His father had taught him to show respect to everyone and he had developed a kindness and compassion that was way beyond his years. And, although he was aware of his mother’s egocentric ways, he loved her just the same. He had often said that Frankie wouldn’t be Frankie if she was the kind and nurturing woman people expected a mother to be.

  Clive had told him about Frankie’s upbringing and how she had had to fend for herself, how she had learnt from an early age that the world was a tough place and how this is what had shaped her and what had attracted his father to her in the first place.

  Pete had liked Frankie up until now. He had always thought that behind the tough façade was a very vulnerable woman. The elite would often gossip about how Lee had refined her so that she fitted in with them. Knowing Clive, Pete knew he would want to be around to help her through this rough time. God knows he would want to do the same for his mom.