Soul Sisters

by Lesley Lokko

  PART NINE

  2004

  Three years later

  • • •

  Politics: A strife of interests masquerading as a contest of principles. The conduct of public affairs for private advantage.

  AMBROSE BIERCE

  67

  He ended the call and put down his phone. The caller’s words still reverberated in his ears. It’s on. He interlaced his fingers and brought his palms together, flexing them, then cracking his knuckles, one after the other.

  ‘Darling,’ a voice interrupted him. He looked up. It was Jen. Her enormous, distended belly almost blocked out the rest of her.

  ‘You all right?’

  ‘I’m fine. Just tired. I just wish it would happen.’ She looked down at her stomach. ‘I’m popping out to the supermarket. D’you want anything?’

  He shook his head. ‘No. Let the driver take you. I don’t want you driving in your condition.’

  ‘I’ll be fine.’

  ‘No. Ring Gumede and ask him to take you. I’m heading out in a few minutes.’

  ‘Oh.’ She looked crestfallen

  ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘I thought we were going to have supper together tonight. I was just going to go out and get some fish. I was going to cook; I’ve given Dora the evening off.’

  ‘I can’t. I’ve got a dinner tonight in Rosebank.’

  ‘We haven’t had dinner together—’

  ‘Jen, I can’t.’ He stood up, gathering his papers together. ‘I’ve got a meeting with the mayor in half an hour and I won’t be home tonight. You’ll just have to eat without me.’

  ‘That’s all I ever do,’ Jen said quietly. ‘I eat alone, I sleep alone . . . I practically live alone.’

  He shrugged. ‘What do you want me to do? I have to be there.’

  ‘Oh, fuck the World Cup,’ Jen said angrily. ‘That’s all anyone talks about these days. I’m sick of it!’

  ‘Yeah? Well, I hate to break the news to you, sweetheart, but that’s all I care about at the moment. Have you any idea what this means? What this means to us as a nation?’

  ‘I don’t care! Forget South Africa . . . what about us, Solam?’

  ‘Jesus, Jen . . . you pick your moments, don’t you? I’m the Minister for Youth and Sport. It’s my job to care about it. Now, I know you’re overwrought and—’

  ‘Oh, go to hell, Solam!’ She turned on her heel and lumbered into the hallway.

  He stood with his hands on his hips and blew out his cheeks in frustration. It was those two friends of hers – what were their names? Sasha, and the other one whose name he could never remember. That Sasha had a mouth on her like no one he’d ever met. A real ball-breaker. Jen had spent the first three years in Johannesburg complaining she had no friends and now, thanks to the two of them, she seemed to have more friends than sense. Thick as thieves, those three. Although you had to admit that Sasha looked good. Better than good, actually. She looked like one of those women who’d give as good as she got in bed. She was some combination. Honey-coloured skin, high cheekbones, black, black eyes and lips that looked stung all the time, thick and full. He stopped himself. He was smart enough not to let it show but Jen repulsed him at the moment. She’d had three miscarriages in the past five years, leaving her thinner than she’d ever been. Now, with that huge bulge, she looked almost grotesque. Not what he ought to be thinking about the mother of his unborn child, he knew, but what was he supposed to do? He was scared to look at her stomach, never mind touch it.

  His phone vibrated dully on the desk. He picked it up, relieved to have something other than his wife’s body to think about. ‘Hello?’

  ‘Solam? It’s me, Manny.’

  He glanced at the doorway. Jen was nowhere to be seen. ‘What’s up?’ he asked carefully.

  ‘Ready when you give the word, boss. The driver will pick you and the guys up after dinner. They’ll be in the basement parking lot. Silver Jaguars. Three of them. Cape Town plates.’

  ‘Cool. Thanks.’ He ended the call. He looked at the clock on his desk. It was 9.30 a.m. in Johannesburg. 10.30 a.m. in Zürich. They were expecting the announcement at noon. There was one more person he needed to see before he saw the mayor.

  68

  Jen lay on the pillows and put her hand over her mouth to stop herself from screaming out loud. She could hear the front door open and shut and seconds later, the throaty roar of Solam’s car starting. Tears were leaking from her eyes. She slid her hand down to her stomach. She felt wretched. She shouldn’t have sworn at Solam like that. It was pointless. All it did was get his back up. She could feel the baby kicking hard. He was probably feeling as miserable as she was. She levered herself upright. The sound of his engine died away as he sped down the road. She swung her legs out of bed with difficulty. There was a heavy, leaden feeling in her stomach that was new. She put a hand out to steady herself and stopped. She pulled her hand away. It was wet. She opened her mouth to shout for someone – anyone – but a wave of pain ripped through her, leaving her breathless. She gulped in a mouthful of air. The baby wasn’t due for another two weeks! She tried to stand up but the pain hit her again like a jackhammer. She tried to remember everything she’d been told . . . Breathe, breathe, breathe! She staggered upright, trying to get to her phone. She’d left it downstairs on the kitchen table. She turned to look at the bed. It was soaked, but there was blood too. It was happening again. She’d managed to carry this one almost to full term but it was happening again.

  ‘Dora!’ she screamed, calling for the maid. She’d given her the day off but, please God, please let her be in. ‘Dora!’ she shouted again. ‘Dora!’ There was no answer. She staggered to the doorway, holding on to it for dear life as the waves of pain began to intensify. Her abdomen felt as though it was caught in a vice, tightening to the point where she thought she would pass out, then stopping as abruptly as it started. She edged closer to the stairs. All she could think about was her phone. There was no landline in the house. ‘What’s the point?’ Solam had said. ‘Between us we’ve got about five mobile phones. Why bother? It’ll only take Telkom a year to install it.’ Christ, she wished she hadn’t listened to him. She lurched forwards, grabbing the bannister. Another wave hit. She bellowed like an animal in pain, holding her breath until it passed. She put a foot out, trying to get up. Then she lost her footing and slipped.

  69

  He drove fast, aware of the hard knot of excitement in his belly. He reached Grayston Drive but instead of merging onto the freeway, he turned right, heading for Randburg. He looked at the clock. It was nine fifty. If he put his foot down, he’d be there in forty minutes. Just enough time to close the deal and get back to the mayor’s office by noon. He touched the accelerator and the Mercedes C-class S63 responded immediately. He grinned. Nothing like a Mercedes to get you from A to B in a hurry.

  Exactly forty minutes later, he pulled into the airport parking lot and looked around. At the end of the second row, a pair of hazard lights flashed once. He moved forward slowly. Row 3C of the Lanseria Airport parking lot was almost empty. He got out of his car and slipped into the back seat of the car next to his, breathing fast.

  ‘Any news?’ she asked, her distinctive profile showing as she looked straight ahead.

  ‘It’s ours,’ he said. ‘We won. Announcement’s due at noon. I’m heading to the mayor’s office now and from there it’ll be press conferences all afternoon.’

  She looked at him, nodding slowly. Her eyes were shining. ‘So, here it is. Finally. I should have brought some champagne.’

  ‘Later. Let’s get the announcement out and take it from there.’

  ‘And you’re sure about this? No possibility of a mistake?’

  ‘No, our man’s solid.’

  ‘And the other thing?’ she asked, her eyes narrowing. ‘You sure it’s a good decision?’

  He shrugged. ‘What did Churchill say? “It’s the worst possible option except for all the others.” These sorts of t
hings are never good or bad. It’s never that simple. I’m thinking early next year. February, once everyone’s back from summer recess.’

  ‘So, we have a deal.’ She held out her hand.

  He took it. Her touch was firm. ‘We do.’

  ‘I’ll see you in February,’ she said briskly. ‘I’d better go. My flight leaves any minute.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am.’ He gave her a mock salute. ‘See you in February.’

  ‘Solam?’ She paused, her hand on the door. He looked up. ‘Don’t call me “ma’am”. Makes me feel ancient.’ She closed the door behind her with a snap. He smiled. Hélène van Roux was a class act. Ahead of him, the driver sat impassively. Solam got out of the car and headed back to his own. He flexed the fingers of both hands. The game was on. He fucking loved it.

  By the time dinner ended, most of the men at the table were somewhat the worse for wear. Celebrations had begun the minute Sepp Blatter opened the sealed envelope at the FIFA HQ in Zürich and uttered the two words that changed everything: ‘South Africa!’ The room erupted in deafening cheers. Six thousand miles away, President Mbeki held up the trophy, flanked by FIFA officials and senior statesmen. To describe the scene as euphoric would have been an understatement. The cameras rolled, soundbites were delivered, promises were made. It was an afternoon unlike any other.

  Solam escorted the group of eleven men to dinner where the drinking continued, and from there to the parking lot where the cars were waiting, exactly as Manny had said that morning. It was a short ride to the club in Sandhurst.

  ‘Where are you taking us, Solam?’ one of the men slurred as they headed out.

  ‘Somewhere fun. Don’t worry, it’ll go on all night.’

  There were sniggers from the back seat. They were an assortment of prominent local and international businessmen, politicians and FIFA executives. Solam’s instructions were clear: take them out, show them the time of their lives and lay the groundwork. He was good at all three. As the cars pulled out of the Hyatt parking lot, he felt his phone vibrate against his thigh for the umpteenth time that night. He pulled it out. There were eleven missed calls from Jen and three from an unknown caller. He glanced at the screen, then tucked the phone away. He didn’t feel like dealing with a hysterically apologetic Jen right now. He’d deal with her in the morning. And he didn’t take calls from unlisted numbers. Rule #1 of politics.

  The girls were everything Manny had promised, and more. Solam led the way in. The tall blonde who held the door open was beyond perfection. She was wearing a white silk sheath slit all the way to her pelvis, and there wasn’t a stitch of clothing underneath.

  ‘Good evening, gentlemen. Welcome. May I take your jackets?’ She had one of those theatrically Eastern European accents – Russian, Ukrainian, Czech, it was hard to tell, not that it mattered. They weren’t there for the conversation. She handed their jackets one by one to a bevy of beauties who were standing by – brunettes, redheads, blondes; black, white, dark-skinned, light-skinned, milky white, Asian. Some of the girls were wearing next to nothing; others were masked, wearing leather. Solam felt his own pulse begin to race. He drew in a deep breath to steady himself. For once he wasn’t here to enjoy himself. He looked around discreetly. ‘She’ll give you a sign,’ Manny had said. ‘She knows what you look like. Just wait for her.’

  ‘Hi.’ Someone spoke directly behind him. He whirled around. He was face to face with a girl with long, jet-black hair wearing nothing but a black thong and a lacy bra through which her nipples could clearly be seen. ‘I’m Clara.’

  He nodded cautiously. ‘Hi.’

  She brought up a cigarette to her face. ‘Got a light?’

  He reached in his pocket for a lighter. She cupped her hand around his. Her face was inches from his own. ‘I’m the photographer,’ she said quietly. ‘Manny’s told me what to do.’ She stepped back. ‘Thanks,’ she said, twirling her fingers. ‘See you around.’ She walked off, her perfectly rounded buttocks shuddering lightly as she went. He was sweating, he realized. He walked over to the bar and ordered a soda water.

  ‘Plenty of ice, plenty of lime. I’m driving,’ he added, as the brunette behind the bar slid the drink in front of him.

  ‘Pity,’ was her only comment.

  He turned around. His cock was throbbing. He looked at his watch. It was nine thirty. By midnight it would all be over. His phone vibrated again. He reached into his trouser pocket. Another unknown caller. He switched it off.

  It was nearly two thirty in the morning by the time he was dropped back at the Hyatt where his car was parked. As he walked towards it, he kept fingering the memory card tucked safely in his left trouser pocket. Insurance. He opened the door and slid into the driver’s seat. The familiar smell of leather and cigarette smoke washed over him. He started the engine and leaned his head against the headrest for a moment. Christ, he was tired. He pulled his mobile out of his pocket and switched it back on. His heart missed a beat. Six of the last calls had been from his mother’s private mobile phone. He stared at the screen, then pressed call.

  She answered on the second ring. ‘Where the hell have you been?’ she shouted.

  ‘Ma? What’s wrong? I’ve just got into my car. I was out with the mayor. What’s the matter?’

  ‘You’d better get here fast. I’m at the hospital in Sandton. You have a son.’ She hung up the phone.

  He tore out of the parking lot, tyres squealing. It couldn’t be! Jen wasn’t due for two weeks! A son! Those were her words. You have a son! He had a son!

  70

  Jen couldn’t take her eyes off him. He was perfect. She had never in her life been so relieved when she heard his first cry. She’d thought she’d lost him. No, much worse than that, she feared she’d killed him. She still didn’t know how it had happened. One minute she was standing on the landing looking down the stairs, next minute she’d started to fall. She’d had two stiches to the gash above her eyebrow and three to her lip where she’d hit the stairs going down. One side of face was swollen and already turning purple, and her wrist was badly sprained but she felt nothing. Her only thought as she was falling was, Let the baby be all right! Now, as she sat propped up in bed with pillows all around, her mother-in-law on one side and the baby on the other in one of those funny little cots, all she could see or think about was the tiny creature lying on his back, swaddled so tightly it was a miracle he could breathe. Her wrist hurt too much to hold him, so Ik-etleng had been the first to touch him. She’d arrived at the hospital in a blaze of sirens and bodyguards, running down the corridor to the suite where Jen lay recovering, an hour after surgery.

  ‘Where is he?’ She could hear Iketleng’s urgent voice outside the room. The door opened and she stood in the doorway, bangles tinkling against one another, her brilliant headscarf blocking out the light. Jen tried to sit but the nurse laid a warning hand on her shoulder. Iketleng’s attention slid from Jen to the cot. There was no sound other than her heels crossing the floor. ‘Can I hold him?’ she asked the nurse.

  It was on the tip of Jen’s tongue to protest, to say, ‘I haven’t held him yet,’ but she stopped herself. Iketleng picked him up carefully, peering into his tiny, still-squashed face.

  ‘He’s perfect,’ she whispered, and in that instant, Jen would have forgiven her anything. ‘Absolutely perfect.’ She turned to look at Jen. Her second question was not so gentle. ‘Where the fuck is my son?’

  71

  Iketleng looked at him over the rim of the plastic coffee cup. Neither spoke for a few moments. Then she got up and walked to the sink. She poured the rest of the undrinkable liquid down the drain and turned to him.

  ‘Your marriage is your business, Solam, not mine or your father’s. Fine. We couldn’t get hold of you. You tell her whatever you have to tell her, but let me tell you something.’

  Solam lifted his head. ‘It’s not what you think,’ he began slowly.

  ‘How do you know what I think?’ she snapped at him. ‘Like I said, your marriage is
not our business. But politics is. If you do anything to jeopardize either your father or me, in any way, I will personally destroy you. Do you understand me? I’ve been in politics since I was thirteen. I’ve been banned. I’ve been put under house arrest. My life has been threatened. I’ve been jailed. I am afraid of nothing. Do you understand me? Nothing.’ She stopped and poured herself a cup of water. She took a few sips, then continued. ‘But I have never been betrayed. Never,’ she hissed. ‘If I find out that you’ve done something I cannot condone, I swear I will destroy you.’

  ‘That’s not it, Ma.’ Solam cut her short. He pushed back the chair and stood up. ‘I told you. The announcement came out, I was with the mayor all afternoon, and then I had to take a visiting delegation to dinner. I left my phone in the car. She wasn’t due for another couple of weeks . . . I thought it was fine. I’m sorry, Ma, honestly.’

  Iketleng said nothing. She drained the cup and set it back on the rack. ‘All right.’ She looked at her watch, then at her son. He looked shattered. Her voice softened. ‘Go in there. Look after your wife and my grandchild, you hear me? Nothing else matters for now. I’ll get someone to come in and stay with her for the next couple of months . . . one of the aunties from home.’

  ‘No need, Ma, we’ll manage. Everything’s going to be fine, I promise.’

  Iketleng shook her head. ‘Have you forgotten who I am? I’m your mother, Solam. I also gave birth. Do you know where your father was when you were born?’ He shook his head. ‘In jail. I was completely alone. The bastards wouldn’t give my own mother permission to visit me. So, I know what she’s going through. You’ve got enough on your plate at the ministry. I’ll find someone in the morning. No argument.’