Velcro for men. That had been Jade’s first impression of Monique. She was Velcro—the side with the hooks, not the loops. On their first night at Scuba Sands, they’d built a campfire down at the beach. Jade had sat quietly on a rock, sipping her wine and watching Monique chat to the group of people, all the while flirting openly with each of the men in turn.
She had occupied herself pleasantly that evening by guesstimating what Monique’s life expectancy might be, should she try the same trick with David when he arrived?
‘Who are they?’ David asked.
Jade turned her head towards him sharply, but David wasn’t looking in Monique’s direction. He was staring at the couple who were walking up the path behind them and had now caught up. The well-built man with a ponytail and a short, blond beard was digging in his shorts pocket for the key to their chalet. The slim, red-headed woman beside him walked with her head bowed and her back slightly hunched. With her arms crossed over her chest and her large, dark sunglasses, this was clearly a woman trying to hide from the world.
‘They’re our next-door neighbours,’ she said. ‘Craig and Elsabe. That’s Craig’s Land Rover parked over there.’
David nodded glumly, as if Jade’s answer had somehow disappointed him.
Jade walked over to the chalet entrance, which had a doormat with a picture of a smiling hippo on it. Craig was busy unlocking the door of the neighbouring chalet, the old-fashioned key rattling in the lock. Elsabe stood behind him, arms still folded. She was looking at Jade, but made no attempt to acknowledge her, and her actions reinforced Jade’s initial impression of her as being somebody who she instinctively disliked, and who disliked her in turn, with no real reason being necessary.
Craig didn’t look in Jade’s direction at all. He just opened the door and stood aside for Elsabe to go through, before following her in and locking it behind him.
Nothing like having a good relationship with the neighbours. It was just like being back in Johannesburg, Jade decided. Home sweet home.
She’d actually exchanged a few words with Craig on the night of the campfire. He’d walked over to her after he’d unhooked himself from Monique’s clutches. Elsabe hadn’t joined him. Instead, the petite woman had sat near Monique, glancing over at Jade from time to time with an expression on her face that suggested she could smell something unpleasant.
Jade wasn’t good at small talk at the best of times, especially with strangers. Their conversation had been short and punctuated by a number of silences.
She remembered that he’d referred to Elsabe as ‘my friend’. She’d wondered what that had implied. And she’d sensed something about him; something that she couldn’t quite put her finger on, but had nonetheless given her an uneasy twinge in the pit of her stomach. She was relieved when he’d said goodbye, turned away, and walked towards the sea. The last she had seen of him that night had been him striding purposefully along the beach on his own.
Inside, the chalet was pleasantly cool thanks to the small air-conditioning unit chugging valiantly away under the lounge window. David put his bag down next to the coffee table and lowered his six-foot-five frame down onto the couch, landing with a bump.
‘Christ in a bucket,’ he muttered, a statement that made no sense, yet was perfectly logical. He covered his face with his elegant, long-fingered hands and leaned back, stretching his legs out in front of him. Then he let out a sigh so deep it seemed to come all the way from the soles of his feet.
‘Beer?’ she offered. ‘Water? Or there’s some bubbly in the fridge if you’d like to break it open now.’
She’d been hoping to break open more than champagne. If Jade had had her way, she’d have undone David’s shirt and had his trousers off almost before the door had closed behind them. But since that was clearly not about to happen, bubbly was the next best option.
His hands still covering his face, David shook his head as violently as if he was trying to rid himself of an entire colony of sandflies.
Then he dropped his hands and looked straight at Jade. It was then that she noticed the whites of his ice-blue eyes were red, as if he was short on sleep.
And then he uttered the words that filled her with dread.
‘We need to talk,’ he said.
7
‘Talk?’ Jade’s voice sounded hoarse, and she took a large gulp of water from the bottle on the counter. ‘What about?’
‘Take a seat,’ David told her, as if he were the original occupant of the chalet and Jade the new arrival.
Jade didn’t feel like sitting down. Right then, she would have preferred to pace the room, the way that David himself did when he was stressed.
She perched reluctantly on the edge of the chair opposite him.
She’d expected that David would want to talk to her, now that the Turffontein house was being sold. This meant he was making life changes, and she had assumed that she would be part of those changes. That they involved her. But maybe she’d been wrong.
She waited for David to speak again, but he stared at the floor in silence, his elbows propped on his knees and his fists bunched under his chin.
The knot in her stomach was growing bigger and tighter. She wished he would just get on with it and tell her, because nothing could be more unbearable than this waiting, here in this silent room.
Or so she thought at the time.
‘Speak up, Patel,’ she said encouragingly.
Eventually David lifted his head and took a deep breath. He still wouldn’t look at her; he just kept on staring at the wooden wall unit that was home to the television, a giant seashell and one flickering lamp.
Then, at last, he dropped his bombshell.
‘Naisha’s pregnant,’ he said.
His words hit Jade like a fist in the face. She recoiled—she couldn’t help it. Even though she’d steeled herself to take David’s news without showing emotion, she hadn’t been expecting this. Not in a million years.
Her mind raced as she took in the implications of his words.
Naisha, David’s wife, was pregnant. But as far as Jade knew, the woman was determinedly single and had been that way for a long time. She’d had her heart set on David moving back in with her. She’d told him on numerous occasions that she wanted to give the marriage another chance.
So how …?
The answer was as big and obvious as an open gateway leading straight to hell.
‘Is it …’ She found herself choking on the words; having to force them out of a mouth that was suddenly dry again in spite of the water she’d just had. ‘Is it yours?’
He didn’t answer. Didn’t meet her eyes, just gave a small nod.
Jade bit into her bottom lip so hard she tasted blood.
So this was why the Turffontein house had been sold. Not to give David the freedom to choose where he wanted to live, but because he was going to Pretoria. Going to move in again with his wife, who was now expecting their baby.
‘When did this happen?’ she asked in a small, tight voice.
‘She’s four months along, but she only told me about it last weekend.’
‘So four months ago, you slept with her.’
David gave a small nod.
‘Do you know how that makes me feel right now?’
‘I—look, Jade, I can’t even say I’m sorry. Sorry doesn’t begin to describe how I feel. I can’t even say I made a mistake, because what I did goes beyond that. All I can say is you and I were going through a rough patch, and I …’
‘So is this what I have to live with now? The knowledge that every time I’ve ever pissed you off or done something you’ve disapproved of, you’ve run off and jumped into bed with your supposedly separated partner? Why? If you’d slept with Naisha every time you and I had had a rough patch, you could have fathered a whole bloody soccer team by now.’
David buried his face in his hands.
‘Jadey, it was just that once. Just that one damn time. I thought it was over between us. I regretted it as soon
as it had happened, and I’ve felt bad about it ever since. And when Naisha told me she was pregnant …’ His voice sounded very small.
‘And there’s nobody else in her life? She hasn’t been screwing you around again? It’s happened before, in case you’ve forgotten. You told me that was why you originally separated.’
A shake of the head.
‘There’s nobody else. That I do know.’
‘Well, you’re an idiot.’
‘I am, Jadey.’ The way David said her pet name made her feel as if her heart had been ripped from her chest. Finally he looked at her. ‘Whatever you want to tell me now, whatever you call me, it can’t be worse than what I’ve been telling myself and calling myself. I’ve screwed up more badly than I ever thought would be possible. I made a crap decision that night. The worst mistake I could ever have made. I betrayed you, and that’s something I’ll feel guilty about forever. I’ve had sleepless nights deciding what I should do. But I can’t walk away from this. I’ve tried to convince myself that I can, but it’s impossible. I cannot let Naisha bring up two children as a single mother. I won’t abdicate my responsibility like that.’
‘So this is the end for us, then?’
He stared at her, his pale eyes gleaming in the dimming light.
‘I don’t want to lose you forever.’
‘Why did you come along on this holiday? Why didn’t you cancel before you left Jo’burg, and tell me all this over the phone?’
‘Because I only found out after you’d already booked the trip. Dammit, Jade, I didn’t want to disappoint you. And perhaps it’s good that we’re both here now, to have some time and space to think this through. I’ll sleep on the couch. Please, I know it’s hard for you now, but I’m hoping that you can try to forgive me. That you can offer me your friendship.’
Friendship?
Jade sprang to her feet, a white-hot surge of fury goading her into physical action. With a supreme effort, she restrained herself from smashing her fist straight into David’s eye-socket.
His eyes were closed now, in any case, as if he couldn’t bear to witness her anger.
If she’d known this would happen, she would never have organised the damn holiday. What had she gained from it, apart from a lasting fear of deep water and having to suffer the humiliation of David’s news? For Christ’s sake, here she was, faced with an issue that she’d never even dreamed could happen. ‘I got my wife pregnant while I was having an affair with you.…’
She wanted to shout her feelings to the rooftops, but she couldn’t find the words to express the immensity of her rage, the bitterness of her disappointment.
Instead, Jade opened the fridge and grabbed the bottle of champagne. Her first impulse was to lift it above her head and hurl it to the floor as hard as she could and watch as it shattered in a deafening explosion of glass and gas.
But at the last moment she stopped herself. Still holding the bottle, she yanked open the door and marched outside, slamming it so hard behind her that the bang could probably have been heard in Port Elizabeth.
8
Bradley’s second-floor flat was in a crummy area in the poorer part of Richards Bay that was sandwiched between the railway tracks and Bayview Aluminium, the biggest of the operational aluminium processing plants. It was small, cramped and shoddy, and was losing the battle against the foul smell of the outside drains. To Bradley, it seemed to smell worse every day he lived there.
But this was where Zulu and Chetty had told him he would need to be based until the operation was over. The flat was close to the harbour and, more importantly, it was just a short walk away from the labourers’ accommodation. This allowed him to go back and forth quickly and discreetly. Later tonight, when it was dark, he’d take them supper. Four loaves of brown bread and a jar of peanut butter.
They should be grateful. When he’d been in prison, supper had been plain bread, six slices per man, to be eaten in the cells after lockdown.
His hands had stopped shaking by the time he got home, although his left leg was still twitching so badly he’d stalled the car twice on the way. He glanced into the rear-view mirror, ran his fingers through his neatly trimmed blond hair and straightened his tie. One of the many mantras his domineering father had spent endless years drilling into his head was that one should always leave home, and arrive home, looking respectable.
One of the first things he’d done with the advance salary he’d been paid was to have two separate air conditioners installed. One in the main bedroom and one in the tiny open-plan area that comprised the lounge and kitchen. Both chugged away around the clock, on their coldest setting, sending his electricity bill into the stratosphere, but keeping the apartment at a liveable temperature.
Once inside, Bradley resisted the temptation to tear his drenched and stinking shirt off his body right then and there. Instead, he turned round and locked the Trellidor, closed the front door and slid the bolt into place.
Then he went straight to the bedroom, which he’d soundproofed with heavy foam immediately after he’d moved in.
Opening the door quietly, he greeted his woman with a soft ‘Hey, hon.’
Her eyes were wide open and she was propped up on the pillows he’d arranged so comfortably around her that morning. A glass of water, half full, stood within easy reach of her head on the bedside table, with a straw inside.
Bradley walked over and knelt down beside her. Gently, he took one of her hands in his and squeezed it.
She didn’t squeeze back. Instead, she screamed.
Her entire body shuddered and her back arched as she convulsed, writhing and struggling against the soft ties that he’d attached to her wrists and ankles, for her own safety.
‘Shit,’ Bradley muttered. He grabbed one of the many pairs of neatly balled socks he kept in the bedside drawer and stuffed it into her open mouth, keeping his fingers well away from her teeth.
‘Damn it all, I thought you were over this. Do you want to stay gagged all day while I’m gone? Because you will, if you carry on.’
He turned away and rooted through the drawer of pharmaceutical drugs that his new employer had obtained for him at his special request. Grabbing a fresh syringe, he drew up two ccs of Dormicum, a potent sedative. When he grabbed her arm at the elbow, she did her best to pull away from him, her face turning crimson with the effort and her eyes bulging.
Last night, after kneeling on her upper arm and subduing her by sheer brute force, he’d managed to plunge the needle into a vein. With hands that were trembling slightly—don’t get this wrong, now, or you’ll kill her, too—he’d pulled back on the plunger, sucking a trail of bright blood into the colourless liquid, before pressing down and sending the drug into her bloodstream.
Tonight, she was struggling harder and he knew he just couldn’t risk it. Instead he pulled the needle off the syringe and stuck it as far up her nose as he could get it before depressing the plunger.
She coughed and snorted, tears streaming down her cheeks, but a few minutes later all the tension had left her body. Her arms were limp and the fear was gone from her half-closed eyes. Looking down at her, Bradley felt a surge of desire so powerful it was frightening. His helpless sweetheart. He would do anything to protect her. Anything. He wouldn’t falter in his care of her. He would never make the same mistake again—the one that had ended up causing the accidental death of his wife.
Bradley could still remember exactly how he’d felt when he had been summoned from his prison cell and into the visitors’ room where, for the first time, he had seen Chetty and Zulu on the other side of the thick, soundproof glass.
To Bradley’s surprise, all the other booths were empty. And instead of standing in front of the exit door as he usually did, the guard had stepped outside and locked the door behind him.
Frowning, he had sat down in the chair. Chetty had gestured to the phone by his right hand, and Bradley had picked up the receiver. He had listened with growing hope to the proposal that the two men had f
or him—a proposal as audacious as it was lucrative.
They’d get him out of prison early, shortening the ten-year sentence that he’d begun after the lawyers had cross-examined him, the witnesses had said what they had to say, and the doctors and psychiatrists, the men in the white coats, had analysed it all. He would get out of prison immediately, but in return they wanted his help. They wanted him to run a repair project, one as important and involved as the high-budget undertakings he’d managed in the past.
For a few months, he would be theirs.
In return, he would be a free man. And, when the project was finished, a rich one.
‘Are you agreeable?’ Chetty had asked. His voice had sounded tinny. The men had been passing the receiver back and forth between them as they outlined the proposal to him, and Chetty had smiled knowingly when he said the words, as if he already knew what Bradley’s answer would be.
‘Yes. Yes, of course. But I want a woman with me,’ he’d said, clutching the receiver tightly. ‘If you can bring a woman to live with me, then we have a deal.’
Now, staring at the soft, drowsy blonde in his bed, Bradley felt another overpowering surge of lust for his sweet, helpless little prisoner. He was tempted to rip off his trousers and screw her immediately. He knew he must wait, though. Cleanliness, as his father had forcibly reminded him on many occasions, was next to godliness. He would use her later, after he’d had a shower and given her supper—he hoped force-feeding would not be necessary tonight—adding some crushed Rohypnol to the food to ensure her compliance through the night.
Right now, he had urgent work to do.
Bradley went back to the kitchen where he made himself a cup of instant coffee. Three spoons of coffee, four sugars. Lifting the heavy phone that hung around his neck, he scrolled through the list of contacts and dialled the number for the contact he’d made in prison and who was now assisting them with this job—Kobus.
The Fallen Page 4
