by Sally Andrew
The loud yaps of the sheepdog drowned my words out, and a Merino ram with curled horns came charging into the panel-van laager, kicking dust into the air. Then there was a small bang and the air was full of yellow smoke. It had a stinky smell, like rotten eggs. My eyes were watering, and I couldn’t see. Fatima was coughing next to me. The dog was close by, barking like a mad thing, and something bumped into my knees. I reached out and felt a trembling horn. I patted the frightened ram on its woolly head.
In the smoky twilight, I could make out three black and red figures. One of them had horns. I wasn’t religious any more, but for a moment I knew that the devil had come to take me to hell for my sins. I had murdered my husband.
When the air cleared, I saw that they were not after me. A man with a red, horned eye-mask held a knife to Ricus’s throat. He wore a black vest and on his bicep was tattooed an upside-down star in a circle. A pentagram.
‘It’s okay, Mielie,’ said Ricus stroking the barking sheepdog at his side. ‘Sh-sh-sh-sh.’
Another man and woman, both in red eye-masks, stood facing the rest of us. The woman wore black knee-high boots and a short red dress. She flicked her blonde ponytail with a shake of her head and lifted a big curved knife, like a pirate’s cutlass, above her head.
The man was tall, handsome and dressed in black. He had a small neat moustache and a goat beard. He gripped a long gun with a wooden handle. He pointed it slowly at each one of us.
‘Stay in your chairs,’ he said.
‘Leave them out of it,’ said Ricus. ‘And there was no need to drag in the Colonel either.’ He looked at the ram that trembled under my hand. I scratched the Colonel behind his ear; comforting him made me feel less scared.
‘So you worry about your little flock, nè?’ said goat-beard, his gun now pointing at me. ‘We took a while to track you down, Ricus. Silly of you to go on Facebook.’
The woman walked towards Fatima and lifted the scarf around Fatima’s face with the tip of her cutlass.
‘What do you want?’ said Ricus.
‘My amulet. My black heart,’ said the woman, turning to face Ricus.
‘That stone was mine,’ said Ricus. ‘I found it.’
‘You gave it to me, Rickie.’
‘Where is it, Ricus?’ said the horned man, stroking the knife gently across Ricus’s throat.
Ricus said nothing.
Horn-man pulled the knife away from Ricus’s neck and waved it in front of his face. ‘Come now, Ricus. We don’t want to hurt your little friends, do we?’
There was a whistling sound, and something flew through the air – a spanner. It hit the hand of the horned man.
‘Fok,’ horn-man said, dropping the knife. It landed on the ground and bounced.
I saw Johannes standing at the Land Rover Defender van, his arm still in the air.
‘That knife is made of rubber,’ said Ricus, pulling out a revolver from under his overall and pointing it at horn-man.
Johannes walked forward and picked up his spanner.
‘Good shot,’ said Ricus.
‘And that’s an airgun,’ said Dirk, who was now holding a pistol.
‘It’s an air rifle. With .22 predator shock pellets,’ goat-beard said, but he lowered the rifle anyway.
‘And that’s a plastic toy,’ said Fatima, pulling a claw-like knife out from under her headscarf and using it to smack the plastic cutlass out of the woman’s hand.
Lemoni pulled a pepper spray from her handbag and aimed it at the eyes of goat-beard. Tata was also holding a gun, resting on his knee. Ousies was holding her broom like a fighting stick.
It seemed like I was the only one who was not armed. Although I soon realised the battering ram I was patting was a weapon. It lowered its head and charged at goat-beard, knocking his legs out from under him, his airgun clattering to the ground. Tata handed his kierie to me, picked the airgun up (now he had a gun in each hand) and stood over the fallen man.
‘Johannes,’ said Ricus, ‘call the police.’
Johannes patted the pockets of his overall, as if looking for a phone.
‘No,’ said the fallen goat-beard man, sitting up. ‘Please.’
‘Lie down,’ said Ricus. But the man stayed sitting.
‘Are there mielies in your ears?’ said Dirk, wagging his revolver. ‘He said lie down.’ He pointed his gun at the horned man: ‘You too. On the ground.’
The men lay down.
‘My phone’s at the shed,’ said Johannes, turning to go.
The woman in the red dress took a step towards Ricus but was stopped by the swivelling of all the weapons to point in her direction. Three guns, one airgun, a pepper spray, one claw-knife, a spanner, a battering ram, a set of bared sheepdog teeth and the kierie in my hand.
She froze and pointed to the fallen cutlass with her toe, saying, ‘We were only playing. Look, this knife is just a toy.’
‘What kind of fokkin morons use toy weapons?’ said Dirk.
Tata held the airgun under one arm and reached for the jacket on the back of his chair.
‘I’ve got a phone,’ he said.
‘Ag, please, Ricus, you know they’ll give us a hard time,’ said the horned man, lying in the sand. ‘No one was hurt. We’d never hurt you, man. We just want Elmari’s amulet back.’
Tata Radebe shook his head and held the phone in front of him, starting to dial.
‘Wait,’ said Fatima in that soft voice of hers, ‘we don’t need the police.’
‘She’s right,’ said Lemoni, ‘there will be a thousand questions, and we’ll never get home.’
Tata held the phone at his side and looked at Ricus.
Ricus stood up and reached behind his neck into his blue overall. He pulled out a string and lifted it over his head. Attached to it was a small khaki bag. He stepped around the men on the ground and stood in front of the woman in red.
‘Elmari,’ he said.
Elmari licked her lips. ‘Beastie,’ she said softly.
He opened the little drawstring bag and took out a shiny gold heart. He held it in the palm of his hand.
‘But . . . that’s not my heart,’ she said.
‘I coated it with gold,’ he said.
‘Is it worth something,’ she said. ‘The gold?’
‘Yes,’ he said.
She snatched it from him and stuffed it down her cleavage.
Ricus went and stood over the men.
‘Go,’ he said.
Dirk stood up and said, ‘These arseholes must go to jail!’
Elmari said, ‘Hell, no.’ Bang. The place filled with that sulphur smoke again. There was scuffling and barking, and the ram came rushing back to my knees.
When the smoke had thinned, the sheep was still at my side, but the three masked visitors were gone.
‘Elmari,’ said Ricus, as if she was still there. His fingertips brushed lightly over the scars on his wrist. Then he rested his hands on his blue pants, with the palms facing upwards. ‘Ella. I loved you.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Ricus blinked as if he’d just woken up, and said, ‘I am very sorry about that.’
Ousies threw some twigs on the fire, lighting up our darkened circle.
Ricus, Dirk and Tata looked around the vans and, finding no one there, put their guns away. Fatima returned her knife to under her scarf and straightened the folds of her dress. Lemoni put her pepper spray back into her bag and dusted her hands.
‘I don’t think they’ll bother us again,’ Ricus said. He patted Mielie, who wagged her tail. ‘Jirre, that was not the therapy I would prescribe for a PTSD group. How are you all doing?’
‘My hands are shaking,’ said Fatima.
My own hands were shaking too, and my heart was beating fast.
‘Adrenaline,’ said Ricus.
‘Ja,’ said Dirk. ‘I got all amped to fuck them up.’
‘Those bastards,’ said Lemoni. ‘Who do they think they are?’
‘I know I’m a coward, but I w
asn’t very scared,’ said Fatima. ‘I don’t know why.’
‘We were together,’ said Tata Radebe. ‘You were not alone.’
‘We were stronger than them,’ I said. ‘We fought back and we won.’
‘Ja,’ said Dirk, and Fatima and Tata nodded.
‘That woman, Elmari,’ said Dirk. ‘She was hot, but she was crazy. How’d you get involved with her?’
‘I did a delivery to her house in Hotazel. It was after my friend, Ted, had died. I was young and lonely, and she came to the door wearing . . . not very much. I kind of got sucked into her life . . . I had a lot of fun with her, but I also did things that I regret. Those were my selfish years . . .’
‘That heart stone you gave her, was it a love thing or a satanist thing?’ asked Lemoni.
Ricus shook his head and said, ‘To the kraal, Mielie.’ The sheepdog collected the ram and they both headed off into the night, towards the sound of soft bleating. ‘Let’s return to the here and now. Breathe; let your body calm down. Let the adrenaline settle. You are safe now.’
Ousies picked up her broom and did a quick sweep around us, then flicked her broom three times into the air and banged it once on the ground, as if making a full stop in the sand.
‘Breathe in. Breathe out,’ said Ricus. ‘Be aware of your body. Be aware of your surroundings. There is no need to hold the tension in your body. Let it go. Just breathe.’
It was night now, but too early for stars. As the veld cooled, it gave off a sweet and earthy smell. I breathed in and out, and my heartbeat slowed. I am safe now, I told myself.
‘I’m sorry for the interruption,’ Ricus said, looking at me. ‘We were in the middle of something important. How are you feeling, Tannie Maria?’
I had been telling the group about Fanie. What he did to me. And what I had done to him. My heart beat faster again. I looked up at the dark open sky. Then down at my hands that were in a tight knot on my lap, as if they were trying to hide behind each other.
‘I think the moussaka is ready,’ I said.
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Let’s eat.’
I helped Ousies dish up the moussaka and pumpkin pie. Lemoni wasn’t the serving type. But she had brought a meal that tasted even better than it smelt.
‘This is my yia yia’s moussaka recipe,’ said Lemoni, as we ate. ‘My grandma’s. It’s to die for.’
‘Jinne, dis lekker,’ said Dirk, a bit of mince and cheese sauce escaping from the corner of his mouth.
‘Jislaaik,’ I said when I’d finished my mouthful. ‘Amazing. You must give me the recipe.’
‘Sure, koukla. Sure, doll. My yia yia’s recipe was with lamb, but I made this one with kudu mince.’
Ousies made a kind of vacuuming sound as she ate the moussaka.
‘And this pumpkin pie,’ said Dirk. ‘It reminds me . . .’
He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. Tata nodded, and it looked like his eyes were wet too.
Lemoni ate like a bird, but I had two helpings. I felt unsettled, and the moussaka was comforting. I lost count of how many helpings Ousies had. It seemed like every time she served someone she served herself some more. She sat on a rock, away from the fire, in the darkness, but the half-moon was up, so she wasn’t invisible. She had only one slice of Pikkie’s pumpkin pie, but she gobbled the moussaka like a hungry jackal. Lemoni saw her and smiled with pride.
When the moussaka dish was empty, and all the bits of toasted cheese eaten off the edges, Ousies gave us each a napkin. Then we ate pumpkin pie with cream.
‘That was delicious, thank you,’ said Ricus as he cleared the pudding plates. ‘I know it’s getting late, and we must head off soon. But I’m not happy with how we left Tannie Maria.’
Lemoni looked at her watch.
‘There are many of us here who feel responsible for the deaths of others,’ Ricus said. Tata, Dirk and Fatima all nodded. ‘It is a heavy thing to bear.’
‘But that bastard deserved to die,’ said Dirk.
‘It keeps coming back to me,’ I said. ‘It interferes with my . . . relationship.’
‘Are you able to forgive yourself, Maria?’ said Ricus.
I shook my head. ‘I don’t know. I understand that I felt trapped. And that I thought there was no other way out. Maybe now that I have told others the truth . . .’
I looked up at the sky; the stars were out now, millions of little suns shining light down on us from so far away.
‘What would it take for you to forgive yourself?’ asked Ricus.
‘I’m not sure. My . . . boyfriend, he doesn’t know, and if he did, I don’t know if he could ever forgive me. If I told him, if he forgave me, maybe I could forgive myself.’
‘Did you get convicted,’ asked Lemoni, ‘for the murder?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘No one knows it was me. They’ll never know.’
‘But how . . .?’
I looked down at my hands and did not answer her. I was very ashamed of how I had done it.
‘You say he was on top of you?’ she persisted. ‘Doing you-know-what.’ I blushed.
‘What did you do?’ she said. ‘And how did you get away with it?’
I looked up at Ricus for help.
‘Let’s not pressurise Maria for details,’ he said. ‘Our focus tonight is on forgiveness.’
I did not speak, but I was thinking that maybe, in order to forgive myself, I did have to make the full confession. With all the details. And that if I were to be free, really free, I would need to confess to Henk.
The idea of telling Henk made me feel dizzy. The kudu wandered into the circle and looked down at me, the moonlight glinting on its horns.
‘I think I need to go home,’ I said.
‘Yes, it’s been quite a session,’ said Ricus, standing up.
Ousies collected the napkins that were in our hands, and we all got up and stood around the fire. Fatima adjusted the folds of her long skirt, Lemoni kept her bag clutched in front of her, and Tata Radebe leant on his stick. Dirk sniffed and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. Ricus looked at us warmly, like we were his chickens, and then we all gazed into the coals. Ousies did her soft humming and singing and threw our napkins and some sweet-smelling herbs onto the coals. The darkness filled with smoke, and I closed my eyes to stop them stinging. Ousies’s song moved around us like a warm veld breeze. I opened my eyes as the sticks blazed inside the circle of stones. Everyone looked a bit weird, lit up from below, fire-shadows flickering on faces. Ricus’s thick eyebrows cast strange shadows on his forehead. Those masked visitors had spooked me, and I wanted to get home. I wanted the comfort of seeing Henk. But the thought of what I needed to say to him gave me no comfort at all.
The paper napkins shrivelled into little black shapes on the fire, and their ashes lifted into the air, as if to float up into the star-bright sky. But then they fell down, making dark marks on my veldskoene.
CHAPTER FORTY
When I got home, the message light was flashing on my phone. I knew it would be Henk, so I just called him.
‘Maria, where have you been?’
‘At my therapy group. Didn’t I tell you I was going? It ran a bit late.’
‘Can I come round?’
‘I’ve got a piece of Pikkie’s pumpkin pie for you.’
I whipped up some cream as I listened to the messages he had left. Three of them, each sounding more urgent than the next:
‘Maria. Please call me when you get in.’
‘I need to see you.’
‘Where are you?’
He arrived without Kosie, which was a message in itself.
There was a spark in his eyes. Was he angry? He leant forward to give me a quick kiss, then he put a yellow bag on the kitchen table. A Spar plastic bag.
I took a deep breath. ‘It was an interesting session,’ I said. ‘I’d like to talk to you about it.’
‘I need your advice,’ he said, taking three bottles of mustard from the plastic bag.
It was the fir
e of excitement in his eyes, not anger. But not the going-to-bed kind of excitement.
‘Mustard?’ I said.
I looked at the bottles of Colman’s, Dijon and Spar mustard on the table. Henk’s moustache whiskers were twitching, like a dog on the scent of a hare.
‘This is to do with the Slimkat case, isn’t it?’ I said.
‘Do you think you can tell me which of these was used in the poison sauce?’
He arranged the bottles neatly, like a police line-up.
I said, ‘I didn’t taste it, you know. I just smelt it on Slimkat’s napkin.’
‘Ja, but you could tell it had garlic in it, and that the mustard used was different from that in the usual kudu sosatie sauce.’
‘What is this about?’ I said.
I laid a piece of pumpkin pie with whipped cream on the table in front of him, but he didn’t even look at it.
‘Open them,’ he said. ‘Smell them. Tell me what you think.’
‘I made Pikkie’s pumpkin pie,’ I said. ‘It’s nice cold, but I can heat it up if you like.’
‘Please, Maria,’ he said.
‘How come you suddenly want my help with the case now?’ I said. ‘What happened to me staying out of police business?’
‘I was worried for your safety, you know that. But it’s not dangerous to smell mustard. And I trust you to stay out of danger.’
I thought of all the dangers I’d been through that very evening, but now was not the time to speak of them.
‘I just want your professional advice,’ he said.
‘Okay,’ I said, and sat down at the table. ‘You eat your pie.’
He picked up his fork but kept his eyes on me.
I opened the bottle of Dijon mustard and sniffed it. ‘This is the mustard they used in the Kudu Stall sauce.’
Henk nodded. ‘Ja, you are right, that’s the one.’
‘How do you know? Did the Kudu Stall give you the recipe?’
‘Yes,’ he said. ‘They used Dijon mustard, and they didn’t add garlic.’
I clicked my tongue. ‘They wouldn’t give me the recipe.’
‘It’s the ingredients of the poison sauce that I need your help with here.’
‘Will you give me the recipe for that honey sosatie sauce?’
