Endgame. Wilna Adriaanse
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years on Sally’s face.
“Is there any news?” Williams asked when she turned to go.
Sally stopped and shook her head. “Nothing.”
“We won’t give up hope.”
Sally nodded and walked away.
Williams followed her with his eyes. Ellie wondered what was behind that gaze. She wondered if Sally blamed them for Clara’s disappearance. It was always easier to put the blame on someone else.
At the gate she held out her hand. “All the best.”
He took her hand in both his own. “Thank you for coming. I appreciate it.”
She was some distance away when he called after her: “If you happen to hear something, please let me know.”
Ellie turned. “I will,” she assured him.
Nick had taken the Rondebosch turnoff and found himself in the street where Williams lived. He reminded himself of a dog running from tree to tree, sniffing. He didn’t know whether he was looking for familiar or new smells, but an ancient instinct seemed to be warning him that things were happening in his territory that he should be aware of.
He drove slowly but not so slowly that he’d attract attention. Without looking around too much, he tried to take in as much detail as possible. Cars in front of the house. People going in or out. Everything was a potential piece of the puzzle. He had already passed the house when he spotted her. He didn’t know what had made him look back. Perhaps the strawberry blonde hair, threaded with copper, gleaming in the sunlight. Or the way she walked. Everyone had a unique walk and something told him he had seen that one before. He slowed down and turned his head to look back but the driver behind him leaned on his hooter. Cars were parked on either side of the narrow street and he was forced to accelerate and go around the block. When he returned, she had gone.
He didn’t like the prickling sensation in his neck.
CHAPTER 8
Ellie positioned herself across the street, keeping both Clive’s bakkie and the front entrance of the building in view. When she’d arrived, she’d been glad to see that he was still at the office.
He came out just before five. He had lost weight and his hair was cut very short. He saw her and stopped dead. Then he got into his bakkie, switched on the engine, and pulled out of the parking lot. Without another glance in her direction, he swung into the street and sped off.
She watched as he braked and the reverse lights came on. He stopped next to her, leaned across and opened the passenger door.
She got in and fastened her seatbelt. “Thanks. Can I buy you a beer?”
“I’m on diet.”
“I can see you’ve lost weight. A glass of water then, or a Coke Lite?”
He pulled away.
“But not at Joe’s,” she said as they turned the first corner. “I don’t feel like facing the others.”
“I suppose I should feel honoured that you can face me, or are you looking for a favour?”
“Come on, Clive, if there’s one person who should understand that I needed to get away, it’s you.”
“A fucking SMS, Mac! Was it too much to ask?”
“I’m sorry. It’s really all I can say. There were so many times I wanted to call or send a message, but I was afraid if I heard you were battling, I’d come back. I know I left at a bad time.”
He said nothing in reply. Just took the turnoff to the Panorama Hospital and drove to a shopping centre. They got out. He didn’t speak until they sat facing each other in the first restaurant they’d encountered.
“I thought you were dead.”
She put her hand over his. “Now you’re going to make me cry.”
“Fuck, no, not that, please. If you want to cry, go do it in another man’s drink, not mine. It’s been a shitty day.”
A waiter came to take their order. Clive asked for coffee. When she raised her eyebrows, he said he had another meeting.
Ellie ordered coffee as well.
“How are Ansie and the kids?”
He ran his hand across his face. “Ansie is fed up with other people’s brats who don’t want to learn. She takes it out on our two, and then they complain to me. She says it’s for their own good that she wants them to study. But they’re teenagers, and where have you ever heard of a teenager who can see further than his own nose? The future is the day after tomorrow’s problem. For now, it’s friends and dates and parties.”
“How’s Belinda doing in high school? Is she allowed to go out?”
“It’s a flippin’ nightmare. The boys come along – all smiles and hormones and gelled hair. Under the pretext of returning a book, or wanting to borrow one, or God knows what crappy excuse, and they stay for a quick coffee or a cooldrink. Sometimes I want to chase the whole lot away and lock the gate.”
Ellie laughed. “You can’t do that. We all have to start somewhere. What were you like at that age?”
“Not as full of hormones as today’s lot.”
“And you and Ansie?”
He wiped his face with his hand. “What can I say? Occasionally we still take out our frustrations on each other; she still thinks I should find another job before I’m no longer the man she married. Sometimes I wish she’d just chill and not take everything so seriously. If she’s not supervising homework, she’s cooking or cleaning or doing laundry. It would be nice if she’d leave the house and the kids sometimes and come sit with me, listen to some music and talk shit. I think that’s where marital problems begin, when you stop talking shit. At some point everything gets so serious. The mortgage and the car payments and the kids … you have no idea how much time we spend talking about the kids. Are they still okay? Are they doing drugs? What if they start? Are they drinking on the sly? Should we let them go to this or that party? This one needs shoes and that one needs a dress, but it costs the same as a month’s groceries. It never stops.” He paused, almost out of breath. “You asked.”
Ellie reached out and touched his hand. “Hell, I’ve missed you.”
“That’s what they all say.”
They looked at each other as if each was waiting for the other one to open a door.
The waiter brought the coffee. Clive added sugar and stirred for a long time. Then he sat back and took a sip. “Why Montagu? Do you know anyone there? Were you there the entire time?”
“Yes, and no. I don’t know anyone there. It happened to be the place where the sun went down after I’d left Cape Town. I stopped to get something to drink and started talking to the owner of a small restaurant and decided any place is as good as the next. It was close enough to Cape Town if my mother needed me, and with all the weekend visitors a newcomer doesn’t draw too much attention.”
“And the organ?”
“One morning I walked past the church and heard someone playing, so I went in. I struck up a conversation with the organist and when he heard my dad had played and I could press a few notes he invited me to play whenever I liked. Sometimes we play together, at other times I play alone. I like playing the organ. There are so many things you have to focus on that you don’t have time to think of anything else. It’s a lot like this job. You have to hold a lot of strings in your hand, or you’ll never solve a case. If you don’t get the fingers and the footwork right with the organ, there’s no music.” She smiled. “Short question, long answer.”
“What do you do all day?”
“I work in my garden and some nights I work in the bar of a small restaurant