‘Hold on a minute.’ Marion rose to answer her cellphone, walked some distance away from Frikkie and dropped her voice. ‘Darling? I’m in a meeting … Yes at the house … We haven’t spoken about how long yet, we were just getting to his schedule. Honestly, though, I think it’ll take several weeks, plus the rain-days – just under two months, my guess … I understand you’re using your own money for the guest house … Yes, I realise you’re a stay-at-home mom … Marelena … Marelena, can I get a word in? No, I’m not suggesting your husband bankroll me … Two months is long, I realise. I wasn’t planning on being at the guest house all that time, by the way … Well, I could stay here the minute the roof is fixed, for instance … Yes, of course I see that … Yes … Well, goodbye then.’
What had set her off? Was it the over-assured Frikkie – why did she hate him so much? – or the spite of her daughter, once the size of a worm in her belly, completely helpless and dependent on her. Marion couldn’t decipher, but she dropped her phone into her handbag and placed her fingers over her face. Thank goodness she knew how to cry quietly.
The woman was crying. Marion the Vulture was crying. Hortensia strained her neck to see; she pushed her weight, through her arms, into the walker and stretched until the gentle cold knock of her head pressing against the window stopped her. Couldn’t have been an ordinary phone call to reduce Marion to such a puddle. Unless Hortensia had overestimated her adversary. She stayed watching. Such a long crier too – wouldn’t have guessed it. She was watching so intently that Hortensia didn’t hear Bassey behind her. He cleared his throat and she jumped.
‘You scared me.’
He walked to where she stood by the window. Took in the view. Marion had stopped heaving. She’d taken a mirror from her purse and was arranging her face. Hortensia swivelled her gaze between Marion and Bassey.
‘Heard anything?’ Hortensia finally asked, feeling dirty for prying.
‘What do you mean?’
This man, always the epitome of decency.
‘You know.’
‘I think there have been some … difficulties.’ He coughed. ‘Financial and what-have-you.’
The following day Hortensia heard the bell go.
‘Bassey,’ she shouted from her bed, simultaneously pushing the buzzer. ‘Bassey!’
His head appeared.
‘Call her in. Don’t look at me like that – call her in.’
Marion came in, talking, ‘Hortensia, I am not someone you can summon at will. I’m actually quite busy and cannot visit. I merely wanted a drink of water, which this kind man obliged me with.’
Bassey left them alone.
‘So?’ Marion folded her arms, jutted her chin at Hortensia.
Hortensia wished she was standing, felt too easy a target flat. Oh well.
‘I wanted to ask you something.’ Hortensia hated having to be careful with words. She was so bad at it.
‘What?’
‘Marion, I … saw you yesterday.’
Marion looked puzzled, so Hortensia gestured with her hand towards the window. Marion moved to the window and looked out into her garden. Probably regretting the low country-style walls. When Marion turned back to Hortensia her face was pasty. Hortensia longed for a bigger sense of victory. It wasn’t there.
‘So?’ Marion said, but her voice was quiet.
‘I hate gossip.’
‘Yes, well, if there’s no real reason for me being here, I’d better go.’ She moved to the door.
‘Marion. You should come here.’
‘What? What do you mean? I am here.’
‘No, I mean … to this house. You should come here.’
Marion stayed rooted.
‘I’m responsible for all the damage, the turmoil. You come here, you stay in your own quarters – the house is big enough. You don’t have to shuttle back and forth between the site and that dreadful, sorry excuse of a guest house—’
Marion snorted; at least they agreed on one thing. She opened her mouth to say something, but Hortensia raised a finger.
‘Think about it. Don’t answer now. We aren’t friends, Marion. I’m just—’
‘I’ll think about it.’
She left the room. Hortensia didn’t hear the front door bang.
To ensure her plan would work Hortensia called Dr Mama, asked if he would stop by. She felt she was bothering him but didn’t care.
‘Any complaints?’ Dr Mama asked after the initial physical examination was complete. It wasn’t why she’d called him, but Hortensia had played along.
She lowered her voice, ‘I don’t like Trudy.’
Mama smiled.
‘She’s a good nurse.’
Hortensia nodded slowly. Marion hadn’t called yet.
‘I mean, what does she really do?’ she continued.
Mama stood up and walked towards his bag. ‘No complaints then,’ he said and they both laughed.
‘Seriously, though. You said even just another body.’
Mama looked perplexed.
‘In case of emergencies.’
‘Hortensia, I hate to put it to you, but there is no one else. Trudy is actually one of the nurses from my own practice. I spoke with the folks at Constantinople – none of their people will come here.’
He looked the most serious she’d ever seen him and she was sorry to be the cause of it.
‘Gordon, what I’m trying to say is … what if someone else was available?’
He looked relieved at the thought. ‘A friend?’
‘Well, I wouldn’t quite call it that.’
‘You have someone that you’d like to come and stay?’
‘What if I did? Would that be … acceptable?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘As in no Trudy?’
Mama’s face relaxed and he shook his head. ‘You really don’t like her?’
‘It’s not personal, you understand. I mean, it’s more out of compassion. Such a nice child, Trudy. No one like that should have to look after me.’
‘But there’s another person.’
‘Oh, this woman is truly awful. Perfectly suited for someone like myself.’