by Eva Mazza
“It’s apparent I’m easy to fool.”
“Lee knew their affair was gaining momentum from the number of phone calls, and from a change in Frankie, but he didn’t have concrete proof. The only thing he could go on was a hunch. That’s when he came up with the idea that I accept John’s job offer as wine rep. This way, Lee would have an ‘in’ because I would act as a private investigator without causing any suspicion.”
Jen nodded. “Clever.”
“Right? But for a long time, all I managed to dig up was that John was having regular sex with someone in his office in the cellar.”
Jen’s eyes widened. “What?”
“Sorry Jen, but I’m going to tell you everything, okay?”
Jen nodded.
Patty’s voice was softer, more compassionate. “It was impossible to hang around to find out who it was, because John was adamant that everyone leaves by seven at the latest. And the night I did stay later, that night I dropped in to visit you at the house, remember?”
“Yes,” Jen said. “You seemed lonely. I even asked you if you wanted to go to a movie with me.”
“Yes, you did. It was that night, on the way to my car, that I decided to do a quick snoop, and that’s when I heard him in the cellar.”
“Bastard!”
“I’m sorry.”
Jen looked at Patty. “Stop saying you’re sorry. And finish your story. I need to know everything. Every goddamn thing.”
“Okay.” Patty tried to squeeze her hand, but Jen jerked it away. She paused before continuing. “Meanwhile, John started harassing me. He was becoming very touchy-feely. One afternoon, he had me up against the cellar wall, his face close to mine.”
Jen could hear herself saying, “Oh my God!” repeatedly.
“I managed to free myself by kneeing him, and I thought that if he didn’t fire me then, I needed to find a way to leave, as it was becoming impossible to work under those conditions. The only problem was that I was working for Lee.”
“Come on! The Lee I know would have let you leave,” Jen said.
“Yes. He kept telling me to resign. But I told him that if I left, we would never have a chance to uncover the truth. That’s when I decided to become, er, creative. Lee knew nothing about this. In fact, it was never meant to go that far.”
Angie knocked gently on the boardroom door. She opened it and looked in. “Are you ladies all right? Can I get you anything to drink?”
They both asked for coffees, and when Angie had gone, Patty continued.
“I wasn’t sure how or even if it was going to work. I thought, naïvely, that if I could get some sort of jealous reaction from Frankie, something might unravel. I wasn’t sure what. I knew she didn’t like me. Maybe on some level, she knew how close Lee and I were, or that she felt I was a threat to her when it came to John, but I knew that if I flirted with John in front of her, something was bound to happen.”
Jen put her elbow on the table and leaned in towards Patty. “What about me? Did you not for one moment think what I may have done if you flirted with John in front of me?”
“I hadn’t given you much thought, I must admit,” confessed Patty. “Your absence from the party made what I had set out to do so much easier. I thought my plan had backfired on me. Instead of Frankie, it was you who caught me, which made Lee so angry and obviously upset me.”
Jen allowed her to touch her hand this time. “I really am so sorry about it. Worse, it seemed that Frankie just ended up protecting you.”
Jen nodded for her to go on.
“So, I thought I had blown it. I guess that’s not a good word to use?” Patty said ruefully.
“It certainly isn’t,” Jen said, with a slight grin.
“I mean, it seemed as if I’d ruined Lee’s chance of ever finding out the truth. It was Lee, by the way, who came up with the idea that I sue John. He saw it as compensation to you for the pain we caused you.”
Jen leaned back and crossed her arms again. “I don’t understand. How does suing John for money make me feel any better? Half of that money is mine by virtue of marriage.”
“Don’t you see, Jen? Lee organised for the money from John’s ceded insurance policy to go into your little nest egg, along with your mom’s undisclosed inheritance. He felt that it was the least he could do after what happened.”
Thirty-two
The sun had set, and silence finally descended on Frankie’s farm. It had been a long and tiring two days. Although the noise that had filled her house had been that of caring friends with good intentions, it had been too much for her, and the tranquillity was welcome.
After Pete and Grant had left, spurred on by a cocktail of anger, guilt and sadness, Frankie had managed to imbibe at least a quarter of a bottle of whisky, rendering her intoxicated. Her girlfriends, too busy clucking about like mother hens, hadn’t noticed.
Faith was the only one aware that Frankie had eaten nothing the entire day. She brought in her supper on a tray.
“Madam, you must eat. You have a long day tomorrow. Madam Shelley made her chicken pie for you, and I know you love it.”
“Faith, I can’t eat a thing,” Frankie slurred. “I just want to drink myself into a coma. Please, be a darling and pour me another,” she said as she lifted her glass to her helper.
“I think that’s enough for you, Mom. Thanks, Faith, for all your hard work today. I’m sure you could do with a rest. We’re going to need you tomorrow, that’s for sure.”
Frankie hadn’t noticed her son’s silent entry. Faith seemed reluctant to leave her side, but Frankie caught the insistent look Clive gave her, precipitating her exit.
He stretched out full length on the couch and stared at the ceiling without speaking. They were silent for a while, then he asked, “How are you doing, Mom? Are you okay?”
Frankie spat out, “Did you hear about Brigit’s inheritance? She put on a sad face, but I bet she couldn’t wait to get home to celebrate her windfall. Dad’s death is her jackpot.”
“Ya. Grant told me.”
“I’m furious,” she said.
“I’m not sure why it’s such an issue,” Clive said.
“Goddaughter, huh? She hardly spoke to her godfather. Why should she get anything? Why?”
Frankie was the most vocal she had been the whole day. She wanted Clive on her side. Maybe together they could fight this ridiculous bequest.
“Mom, don’t be like that. It’s a drop in the ocean.”
Frankie staggered to her feet. “Drop in the ocean? That apartment is worth a small fortune and lavish Lee throws it away. Fuck that! I won’t allow it.” She felt Clive’s hands on her shoulders as he gently guided her back into Lee’s chair.
“Come on, Ma. It’s what Dad wanted,” he said, slouching back onto the couch.
“What Dad wanted?” Frankie was furious. Why doesn’t he see through this bullshit!
“Dad was always a generous man, Ma. A good man. Stop it, please!”
“Lee, the saint. Let’s not forget to canonise him. This just confirms all those rumours about Brigit being his illegitimate child.”
Clive sat up abruptly.
“Now he’s got the whole fucking town talking and I look like a bloody idiot. He did this on purpose, to get back at me!” she shouted. She knew how drunk she sounded, but she went on, not allowing Clive to interrupt her. “He was like that, you know. He loved to punish me.” She looked up to the ceiling and yelled, “You’re a fucking bastard, aren’t you? You’re having a good old laugh at my expense!”
Clive jumped to his feet. “What are you saying, Mom? For God’s sake, stop it! Dad’s dead. His body isn’t even cold yet and you’re talking shit about him to me. Stop, please!”
Frankie couldn’t hide her bitterness.
“I knew he and Jen were lovers before we got married. And his parents were so desperate for him to marry the town virgin! Ha! What a laugh. Jen and the Virgin Mary, both pregnant before they married, and still, everyone believes they’
re untainted.”
“Stop it!”
“She wasn’t even here to give me her condolences, to pay her respects! The bitch! But she’ll be happy for her daughter to take what rightly belongs to us, Clive.”
“Mom, stop it, please!” Clive begged.
Frankie ignored him. “She thinks I’m the bad friend because I slept with her dysfunctional husband. I did her a favour.” She burst into tears, sobbing drunkenly. “I tried to keep that asshole on the straight and narrow, so he didn’t run around with every whore in town.”
“Now you’re starting to freak me out completely! Please tell me that you’re making this all up. Please, Ma, I beg you, stop it.”
Faith walked in and put her finger to her mouth, silencing Clive. Sitting down on the arm of Frankie’s chair, she placed the weeping woman’s head against her tummy and rocked her gently from side to side. Such a soothing gesture was unfamiliar to Frankie, but she succumbed, nestling her head against the starched uniform that smelled comfortingly of cooking oil and fabric softener. She was completely spent.
“Ssh, Madam, ssh. Faith is going to take Madam to bed now. Here’s a little pill for you.”
Frankie took the sleeping tablet and swallowed it dry. Faith helped her up and walked her to her bedroom. Her helper pulled back the sheets, removed Frankie’s slippers from her feet and helped her lie down. Then she tucked her in gently and stroked her forehead.
“Madam needs to rest. Madam must just relax, please.”
Frankie felt herself dropping off to sleep before Faith had even left the room.
The only person who could help Jen sift through all this information and conflicting emotions was Sharon, who was willing to see her early that evening.
“I have to admit that your story has been the most compelling one I’ve ever been paid to listen to.”
Jen adored Sharon: her honesty, and the way she listened. It felt to her that she was more like a friend than a counsellor.
“Well, apparently, I inadvertently played a seminal part in the events that unfolded.”
“How so?” Sharon asked.
“Because I insisted that John fire Patty. He was forced to make a financial settlement. And my phone call to Lee’s house in the middle of the night asking for Frankie gave her game away. It was the evidence Lee needed to finally point to Frankie’s indiscretion.”
“It sounds to me like John needs help,” Sharon said, her eyes boring into Jen’s. “Phew. You have dealt with enough betrayal, haven’t you, Jen?” Jen nodded. The tears welled up.
John had betrayed her for years, in every possible way. If she was honest, he had never really been supportive or understanding. If she had compared John to Lee… She now knew she would have found that Lee was much more caring and supportive of Frankie than John had ever been of her. But then, Jen didn’t have much by which to measure a husband’s worth. Her parents’ marriage hadn’t been anything to go by. Her father had openly cheated on her mother. All this time, Jen had felt grateful for John – that he was not like her father. But little had she known. John was just better at covering his tracks.
“All I can say now is, thank goodness for Lee. He was a constant, I guess. He had my best interests at heart always, and I can never say thank you.”
She began to cry. Her cry became a howl. Lee was dead. She would never see him again.
Sharon allowed her to cry. When Jen finally stopped sobbing, Sharon said, “Jen, I know you don’t want to go to Lee’s funeral tomorrow, but I think you should. You need to mourn him, you need to pay tribute to him and you need closure. Forget about the other people who’ll be there. Focus on why you’re there. And mourn; mourn the loss of your friend.”
Jen interrupted her, “ He was my guardian angel.”
“I guess he was. He was the one person who had your back, even though you rejected him all those years ago. You know now that he loved you completely.” Jen knew Sharon was right.
After her consultation with Sharon, Jen climbed behind her steering wheel and drove back to Stellenbosch, ready to face absolutely everything and everyone head on. It was dark when she finally arrived at the farm. She had made up her mind. She would attend Lee’s memorial service. She would pay tribute to the man who had a hand in unshackling her.
She hadn’t felt this brave for as long as she had been alive.
Thirty-three
Jen and Pete were in the lounge talking when they heard John’s car pull up. The car doors slammed shut, and John and Brigit’s raised voices carried across the vineyards. He was shouting that Brigit was to turn down the inheritance Lee had left her. She was screaming back at him that she would do no such thing, that she was old enough to make her own decisions and that the inheritance was a kind gesture, proving to her how much Lee had valued her as his goddaughter.
“Bullshit! He’s trying to make a point. That’s what he’s doing. At my expense. The conniving son of a bitch!”
Jen jumped from the couch and ran to the entrance hall with Pete on her heels, ready to try to rein in John’s temper.
“Why? Tell me?” Brigit shrieked. “Is it because you can’t afford to buy me an apartment? Does this make you look…?”
There was a loud smack as John’s hand connected with Brigit’s cheek.
Everyone stood stock still for what felt like an age, until Brigit cried out, “You’re a monster, that’s what you are. Don’t you lift your hand to me again, ever!” Jen followed as she ran to her bedroom, but Brigit managed to slam the door before Jen could stop her. Knowing Brigit, Jen thought it best to let her be. She stormed back to the hallway.
John glared at Jen. “Look what the cat’s dragged in,” he sneered. “To what do we owe the honour?” John motioned to Pete. “I see you have your lackey with you. Why don’t you fuck off too!”
“I will not have you speak like that to Pete, do you hear me?” Jen spoke calmly.
“Or what?” John challenged.
“Or it will be your loss; unless of course you want to turn your children against you too.”
Pete gave her a look that said, I’m here if you need me, then turned and left the room. When she heard the kitchen door swinging shut behind him, she knew he had retreated to his cottage.
Jen went back into the lounge, her lounge, which had been photographed all those years ago for an interiors magazine. It was a beautiful cream and pistachio-green affair, with a marble coffee table as the focal point. I’ll definitely take that, she thought with affection. She had salvaged it from a junk shop and brought it back to its original splendour. Suddenly she was seeing everything in terms of what she would take with her when she left. The couches John could continue to slouch on, but the armoire, too, would find a new home with her. It had been her grandmother’s and had been handed down from her mother to her. It had originally been a depressing dark wood but Jen had lovingly repainted it using a French paint technique that was bizarre and sacrilegious at the time, though she’d noticed over the past few years that this had become quite a trend. She had breathed life back into that old cupboard, antique or not. That had been the crux of the magazine article: how Jen had managed to bring modernity into an old farmhouse, on a very small budget.
John had followed her into the lounge. She could feel him seething, but his anger no longer had an effect on her. She sat down on one of the couches and crossed her legs, imagining that she looked almost regal with her arm outstretched across the back.
“I’m here because I’m going to Lee’s memorial service tomorrow.”
“You’ve come to your senses,” John snarled, “after causing unnecessary crap and embarrassment.”
“Yes, I have. With some help, I came to the conclusion that it would be disrespectful of me not to pay my last respects to Lee. And it would be ridiculous to avoid the service because of your affair – with Frankie, I mean. After all, the two of you should be hiding your shameful faces, not me.”
“That fucking son of a bitch told you, didn’t he? He was always
out to get me, because he wanted you and you chose me instead.”
“You have clearly underestimated me, John. Give me some credit. I’m not that stupid. I didn’t need Lee to tell me. You, on the other hand, are a very, very stupid and careless man. I was bound to find out. All I needed was to open my eyes. For some pathetic reason, I’ve had them shut for the duration of our marriage.”
“Aren’t you the brave one suddenly? Sitting there all smug and self-righteous? Do you think I don’t know about you and Lee? I rescued you, you fucking whore. Who knows who Brigit’s father is? Maybe you can shed some light on your daughter’s true identity, huh? All I know is Lee would never have married you if you were pregnant. I did! And I raised her as my own.”
She’d expected John to fight dirty and had prepared herself for the abuse that would be hurled her way.
“I slept with Lee. I’m sorry I kept it from you, and I’m sorry if I hurt you. We were stoned and drunk. We were also young and impulsive, and one thing led to another. I admit that keeping it a secret was partly to protect you, but it was mostly to protect me. I was vulnerable, and the thought of living in a community that regards unmarried mothers as outcasts was frightening for me and shameful for my mom. But know this: I always wanted you, John.”
John smirked.
“I did! I had resolved to tell you about Lee and face the consequences. But then I found out I was pregnant. Mom was afraid that if I said anything to you, you would leave me. Even if Brigit was yours. I was afraid.”
Jen was not weepy; she did not place blame. She just wanted to speak the truth. She wanted no more secrets, no more lies.
“I tried to be the best wife I could be. I committed one hundred per cent of myself to our marriage. To us.”
“You’re such a clever bitch, aren’t you? If I had left you, knowing you were pregnant, can you imagine what everyone would have thought of me? They would never have believed that innocent Jen would fuck another guy. My reputation was already blemished by the pregnancy, so I had to marry you to show people that I was a decent human being. But don’t think I’m going to forgive you for trapping me, you cunning…”
