Dance of the Heart. Sibusiswe Dhuwe
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Thuli pointed to the furthest corner of the room, where there was an assortment of other bags strewn casually on the floor. The front of the room was lined with mirrors, and the side that ran along the outside corridor was clear glass, so that anyone passing by could see into the room.
Only as she found herself a space on the floor did Nomvula notice the young man seated towards the back of the room. In front of him were two drums. Thuli signalled to him and he began a slow, simple beat.
“Okay, we’ll start with breathing to the count of eight,” instructed Thuli. She caught up with the count and then began taking the class through a series of stretching exercises that gradually increased in pace and complexity.
Nomvula remembered quite a few of the exercises, despite not having done them for ages. The routine, however, took some getting used to, but by the end of the class she could execute the moves quite competently.
“You’re good,” Thuli complimented her afterwards. “It’s taken a couple of weeks for everyone to learn the routine and you almost got it on the first day.”
“I think I may have overdone it a bit, though.” Nomvula grimaced as she felt a knot of tension in her back. “I’m going to be so stiff tomorrow.”
“Go home and take a hot shower, or better yet, soak yourself in a tub with bath salts. And make sure you stretch again right afterwards. That should take care of it.”
Thuli waved cheerily and walked off towards the cafeteria.
Nomvula checked her watch; it was time to pick up Mpho.
* * *
While Nomvula settled into a new routine, Daniel’s schedule changed, picking up quite a frantic pace. He spent most of his time that week in the office, when he wasn’t cooped up at Parscope with Tshepo and their respective legal advisors.
But eventually everything was back on track and Daniel could afford a little relaxation with his friend in Chez Max, a restaurant revered by businesspeople in all of Rivonia.
“You’re getting the best out of this deal,” said Tshepo. “Do you realise that you probably never need to work again?”
“Ja, but you know me.” Daniel smiled apologetically. “With all the ideas I have in my head, I need to keep grafting to stay sane.”
“Well, you can tinker all you want now.” Tshepo changed the subject without warning. “So what happened to isimomondiya you brought to my party the other night?”
Daniel burst into laughter. “The other night you’re referring to is two months ago, at the very least, and that cute young thing was simply that: a date and no more.”
Tshepo’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Hey wena! You don’t mean to say you’re still doing the monk thing? It’s been three years since Alexa left, and . . .” Tshepo’s voice tailed off when he noticed the look on his friend’s face. He realised that once again he had started on a subject better left alone. But he wasn’t prepared to never talk about it, so he tried a different tack.
“Are you never going to let another woman into your life because some vain bitch pulled a fast one on you?” Too late. He had started off well, but his tactlessness got the better of him.
Tshepo saw Daniel’s lips compress into a grim line and tried again. “I mean, don’t you think it’s time to let it go?” He had managed to change his tone somewhat, and to his relief his question sounded more like concern than an attack.
“I have let it go,” Daniel replied, relaxing somewhat. “Just because I don’t talk about it all the time, it doesn’t mean I’m not dating,” he defended his position.
“Uh-huh.” Tshepo sipped his Perrier. “So who are you seeing then?”
“Who are you seeing?”
“Hey, I’ve been in hospital, what do you take me for?” At Daniel’s look Tshepo conceded, “All right, inkosazana enhle, known as uNomsa Sheba.”
Daniel shook his head. “Is she a model? An air hostess?”
“What if she is?” challenged Tshepo.
“I rest my case.” Daniel threw his hands up into the air.
“Ja, but I don’t rest mine,” Tshepo countered. “Who are you seeing? Come on, spit it out.”
Daniel groaned inwardly. He should have just answered the question in the first instance; now Tshepo was never going to believe that he wasn’t hiding something.
“No one, okay? I’m not seeing anyone.”
Sure enough, Tshepo looked at him sceptically, but decided to let the matter rest.
“I hear you’ve got a glamorous new nanny for Mpho.” Tshepo chewed his steak with an air of studied nonchalance. “I think I might pay you a visit soon.”
“Please don’t.” Daniel didn’t even need to ask how Tshepo had heard about Nomvula. “Thabs?”
“Couldn’t wait to tell me. So?”
“So what?”
“How old is she?”
Daniel answered automatically, “Twenty-seven.”
“You thinking of making a plan?”
“Hey wena, Tshepo! Just give it a break.” Daniel stood up.
Tshepo was genuinely baffled. “Why are you so touchy all of a sudden?”
“Forget it! I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Daniel put on his jacket and made his way back to the corporate offices of Modise Electronics with a picture of Nomvula posted firmly in his mind.
It was amazing. In a few short days she had become an integral part of his life. He actually looked forward to seeing her at the end of the day when he got home, and after Mpho had gone to bed he eagerly joined her in the lounge to talk about her day for a while or to simply sit and watch television.
Nomvula seemed genuinely interested in the stories he recounted of his working day. Occasionally she even offered valuable insights. This was a rare treat, because then Daniel would know for sure that she was really interested and not merely being polite. It was difficult to see through her cool friendliness, except when she was with Mpho, or at times when she was in the mood to respond to his teasing.
His cellphone rang.
“Modise,” he answered.
“I’m having a party on Friday. Don’t forget ukuletha ugoverness along with you.” The caller hung up.
Daniel sighed. His friend wasn’t called “the great Tshepo Moeketsi” for nothing. If he didn’t take Nomvula with him on Friday, Tshepo would definitely come to his house to check her out, and Daniel didn’t want that to happen. Nomvula deserved the undisturbed security and personal space she would enjoy in her own home.
Daniel checked his watch; it was three o’clock. Might as well go home, he convinced himself. Mpho was leaving for East London with Lerato and family tomorrow, so he should spend time with her.
Who was he kidding?
7
Nomvula was at her wits’ end. Things had progressed from bad to worse since the morning. Mpho had been cranky as anything all day.
It had started at breakfast. Mpho put her spoon in her bowl of cereal and stirred it morosely, then she started spooning it onto the table.
“Please stop that, you’re making a mess,” Nomvula asked.
But Mpho continued as if not a word had been spoken.
“Mpho! Did you hear me? I said . . .”
“No!” Mpho screamed and lashed out with her hand, sending the bowl and its