Endgame. Wilna Adriaanse
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ENDGAME
WILNA ADRIAANSE
Translated by Elsa Silke
TAFELBERG
For all my loyal readers
PROLOGUE
The sun was going down when Ellie drove into the town. Old houses and orchards lined both sides of the broad street. A dog scampered across the road. Two elderly people were chatting at a garden gate.
The sign that read Pub was small. It was the string of coloured lights on the veranda that caught her eye. She stopped, got out of the car and went inside. A few tables were occupied. She crossed to the long bar counter and chose the last stool against the wall.
The man who looked up reminded her of Joe. He was younger, but his hair was also thinning and he was strong and sturdily built. Just like Joe, he had a dishcloth hanging at his side.
“What will it be?”
Ellie looked at the rows of bottles against the wall. She paused at each one, considering. If ever there was a good time, it was now.
“Whisky on the rocks.” She didn’t have to do everything at once. She had all the time in the world to change to something else.
He poured her drink and when he put it in front of her, he paused.
“I had my money on white wine. I’m seldom wrong.”
Ellie smiled and shook her head. “Not tonight.”
“Long road behind you, or ahead?”
She sipped her drink. Relaxed her shoulders and took a deep breath. “Both.”
He held out his hand. “Wynand Bruwer.”
“Eleanor.”
She hadn’t been looking for a specific place. Nor a specific road. Just a road. She had no idea why she had taken the turnoff. Maybe the place had found her, she thought, standing in front of the house. It was on a hill. Just high enough to see the town a few kilometres in the distance. When she turned around, there was a mountain at her back.
There was a small lawn with a big oak tree, and an irrigation dam with muddy water. Where the lawn ended, someone had made flowerbeds that could be watered from the dam. Neat concrete furrows channelled the water. The beds were bare, except for an occasional weed or spinach plant gone to seed.
She sat down on the swing suspended from a branch of the jacaranda and slowly swung backwards and forwards. The young couple who had lived in the house had clearly had a child.
She had told the owner she wanted the place for six months. Maybe she would move on someday, but for now she wanted to stay under the jacaranda beside the dam.
If she was patient, she might even catch up with herself.
CHAPTER 1
Ellie spotted them in the mirror mounted next to the organ the moment they entered the church. She had never seen them before, but she recognised them immediately. For a moment her body went slack. Subconsciously she had probably been expecting them for some time. She watched as the two young men pushed their sunglasses up onto their foreheads and looked around before taking a seat in the last pew at the back.
Marius stuttered as if he had forgotten his words, but concluded his sermon and announced the closing hymn.
The organ pipes on the wall in front of her sounded the first notes. The music and the voices of the worshippers converged at a point somewhere behind her back.
While she was playing, she watched the two men in the mirror. She tried to remember the past month’s newscasts. A load of abalone intercepted on the N1. Two suspected rhino poachers shot dead in Limpopo. A shooting at the home of a druglord on the Cape Flats. A police chief arrested, another one under investigation. The usual weekly circus.
The two men got to their feet with the rest of the congregation, but didn’t join in the singing. One of them was openly looking around, while the other was fiddling with his cellphone.
Ellie felt relieved when the last note faded away. Marius pronounced the benediction and the congregation responded with a final “Amen” before they began to file out.
The two at the back were watching her openly as she switched off the organ and closed the lid. With her handbag over her shoulder, she began to descend the stairs of the organ gallery. She looked back and saw them turn and leave through the front door. She looked at her watch. If they hurried, she had about a minute. If they took their time, she had three minutes at most. She raced down the stairs.
Outside, she ducked behind the first row of shrubs. The nearest car began to reverse out of its parking spot, and she opened the passenger door.
“What the …” The older man’s head jerked to the left. “Oh, it’s you, Eleanor. You gave me a fright!”
“Sorry, Uncle Dirk. Can you give me a lift to Carlos’s café, please? It’s too hot to walk.”
“Sure.” When he pulled away, she didn’t look back. “Where’s your car?”
“Something’s wrong with the ignition. I’ll ask Manie to take a look at it tomorrow. How’s Auntie Patti?”
“Fine. The children are here for the weekend; that’s why she didn’t come to the service this morning. She misses you.”
“I miss her too.”
“How have you been? Why do we see so little of you?”
“I don’t want to make a nuisance of myself.”
He looked at her and shook his head.
“Oh, bull— Look how you nearly made me swear on a Sunday.”
She laughed and touched his arm. “I’ll pop in sometime soon.”
“Why don’t you come along now and join us for lunch?”
She shook her head. “Not today, thanks. Say hello to everyone at home.”
Two cars were parked in front of the café and, after a quick glance up and down the street, she headed for a house set slightly apart. Years ago someone had put a sign on the gate that read Last house. The red paint was faded and peeling in places. A warm gust chased scraps of paper and dust around the corners of the buildings. Even the dogs looked miserable on a day like this. Ellie walked around the back of the house. When she climbed the steps, the boerboel growled, but didn’t get up. She patted his head in passing.
“I’d also much rather be lying in the shade.”
The door opened and Wynand looked out. “What are you doing, snooping around my house on a Sunday morning?”
“The elders sent me to ask why you weren’t at the service.”
“Tell them if they quit drinking earlier on a Saturday night I might get to bed at a decent hour.” He held the back door open for her but she shook her head.
“I’d like to borrow the bike.”
“What bee have you got in your bonnet this morning?”
She pushed back her hair and smiled up at him. “When did you become so nosy?”
He turned and she followed him into the kitchen, where he lifted a key from a hook on the wall.
“I’ll get the helmet.”
“Is Gerda back from church yet?”
Wynand shook his head. “No, she’s probably having tea.”
“Better not tell her I was here … or about the bike.”
He held out the helmet and nodded. “You’re not going to ride in that outfit, are you?”
“Just home.”
“Where’s your car?”
“I left it at the church.” She handed