Banking on Love. Sibusiswe Dhuwe
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be difficult for nothing, Button. Of course you have to make sure you know how he deals with money and what business he’s in. And of course you won’t be so silly as not to put away something for a rainy day. Cebo will help you manage your money.”
Cebo Malope was an economist who had risen from the ranks to end up at the top of the banking industry. Being old school, he liked good things but was not flashy. If for no other reason, Lulu liked him because he seemed to genuinely love her sister and didn’t take exception to their mother’s often unreasonable demands.
Cebo adored his two children, but didn’t spoil them. Lulu often thought that for kids under ten years of age, they were too well behaved, but under Nothando’s strict rules there was no other way to be. Lulu loved being the indulgent aunt, often taking them out on what her mother and Nothando would term frivolous jols around Jozi.
“Don’t rush me, Thando. I know what I’m doing. Goodness knows, you and mama have drilled it into me.”
“Just remember, you’re not getting any younger.”
“I’m only twenty-nine.”
“Well, it’s your funeral if you want to spend your time looking gift horses in the mouth.”
Lulu held back a sigh. She didn’t want to talk about this any more.
Her sister sighed. “I can see you’re getting that stubborn look on your face, so let me get up and go about my business before it’s time to pick up the kids from their karate lesson.”
Lulu wiggled her fingers in goodbye, then proceeded to try and eat her breakfast. She was starving, but her stomach seemed to be tied up in knots. It was very seldom that anything spoilt her appetite. Uh-oh, she thought to herself, this can only mean trouble.
3
Dumisani wasn’t answering his phone. In a way Lulu was relieved. She had not called him on the Saturday after The Event, as it was now referred to by The Coven. Precious, of course, had not been able to keep quiet about it when she returned next door to her housemates.
Lulu had not expected otherwise; she knew Precious was incapable of keeping a secret, no matter how hard she tried. She’d probably only managed to keep mum for a few minutes after she got back and then hadn’t been able to contain herself any more.
After getting back to her flat, tidying up and running a few errands at the local shopping centre, Lulu had finally made it next door in time for sundowners. She was greeted by three openly curious friends. They didn’t even try to act as if they hadn’t heard.
Lulu walked into the spacious double-storey and was handed a glass of sparkling wine and made to sit down on the throne, as the intricately carved, well-cushioned chair was called. It was reserved only for big news, according to Cristobel. And there, in a series of hot flushes and little aftershocks at the memory of the night before, Lulu was made to recount step by step what had happened.
“I knew he had a thing for you!” Gita exclaimed, tossing her long, dark ponytail behind her. Gita was a beauty therapist at a nearby spa and louder than even Precious at her most gregarious. When her husband passed away in a train crash while visiting relatives in southern India, she had decided not to remain in the custody of her in-laws.
“Don’t lie,” Precious reprimanded Gita. “You agreed with me that he was gay.”
“Whaaaat?! I never. You’re the one who said he was gay and I said, never! Didn’t I, Crissie?”
Cristobel stood up to pour more drinks for everyone. “If I recall correctly, I was the one who said never, and I told you guys you were both blind and foolish to even think that.” A former ballerina, she was dainty and moved around as if there was no need to actually step on the ground. She always wore flowing pastel-coloured clothes that, along with her blonde curls, made her look like a fairy queen.
Cristobel was in her early forties, but could well pass for someone in the same age group as Lulu, Precious and Gita. All her friends were much younger than her, probably due to the fact that she didn’t believe in age defining how people should live and what they were expected by society to be and have achieved. Her philosophy was: Live the life you want, and don’t depend on the good opinion of others.
Now, sitting at her desk during her lunch break instead of joining her colleagues as she often did, Lulu sighed. It was exactly a week to the day, and she had long expected Dumisani to have tried to reach her. Initially she had been dreading the call, but she’d also found herself reluctant to leave her phone unattended for a moment.
She jumped every time it rang, with her heart racing into her mouth, only to feel dizzy with relief when it wasn’t Dumisani, and a bit deflated at the same time. After day three of no calls from him, she had begun to question herself and had become convinced that the experience had been terrible for him and that he didn’t know how to deal with it.
“Never! I’m awesome in bed,” she whispered as the thought assailed her again.
“What was that?” One of the junior buyers had returned from lunch and was looking at Lulu curiously.
Lulu shook her head. “Nothing, don’t worry about it, just talking to myself.” She pasted a smile on her face and turned to her computer screen to dismiss the younger woman. As assistant to the senior international buyer for a big department store, Lulu shared an open-plan office with three junior buyers. She loved her job, especially seeing as she had fought hard to end up in the coveted women’s wear section. The perks included occasional travel to fashion shows and conventions abroad – very occasional for an assistant, but definitely better than the juniors, who never got to go anywhere and didn’t get paid nearly as well.
From the time she first started as a junior buyer, Lulu had focused all her energy on being charming, cheerful, having a can-do attitude and showing that she had initiative. She stayed well on top of fashion trends, often spending hours on the internet and watching Fashion tv and the Style Network. She never missed an opportunity to be noticed, and soon all her hard work paid off. She had even started her own online project called The Green Room, essentially a stylists’ directory featuring a fashion blog and links to other fashion blogs, interviews, merchandise, latest fashions, designers, fashion innovators, stockists, price guides, online shopping and information on the best sales.
If anyone even dreamt of a new fashion concept, Lulu was on it, and her networking had so far landed her almost a hundred dedicated online clients. The hits were nearing half a million and occasional clients were increasing. The commission she was making for sales was put aside, strictly for the Independence Plan.
Initially she had spent almost all her free time working on the site, but now she could afford to hire an assistant – well, three: Precious, Gita and Cristobel, who worked on a rotating basis, dealing with queries to the site and any client issues that arose. For their efforts, they were given fabulous discounts on the site and dibs on any freebies.
* * *
Late that afternoon Lulu’s cellphone rang. She jumped and looked around the office, startled to realise she was the last one there and that the day had disappeared into the monthly stock reconciliations she had been working on.
Heart pounding, she saw the contact icon showing Dumisani’s smiling face. With shaking hands she swiped the pad of her thumb over the screen to answer and affected a nonchalant tone. Best to act as if nothing had happened and first see the lie of the land. “Hey!”
“I’m outside. Come down.” He hung up.
Mouth open, Lulu stared at the dark screen. “Ru-ude!”
For a moment she just stared at the flashing “Diva” screensaver of her Samsung Galaxy without seeing it. Dumisani was outside and being quite imperious all of a sudden. For someone who had kissed and then bedded her without much advance warning and subsequently disappeared without a word for a week, he was being very cocky.
Lulu thought she might play a little hard to get, but she also knew that wouldn’t wash with Dumisani.