Читать книгу My Only Story - Deon Wiggett - Страница 15

I inch lower down in the seat of my rental car. Is it less conspicuous to drive by slowly or quickly? Slowly?

I start driving past slowly, but I am staring straight ahead, not daring to look right. If Willem comes out of the house, ready to go to the office, and he looks up, he will see me. He may recognise a man of thirty-nine he has mostly forgotten.

But I have passed now, and I am unharassed. I circle back again and park at a much safer distance. If Willem comes out now, I do not think he will see me, unless I do something conspicuous.

I have brought along an audio recorder and some headphones, just like the real Sarah Koenig. I speak into the microphone and try to record my feelings.

I say: ‘There’s a car parked outside. Is that his car? Is he metres away?’

Seagulls squawk; a van stops further down with water-cooler replenishments; from a block of flats, a mother loudly berates a child. This is all terrific background ambience for the podcast. The podcasting textbooks say I must go and stand in the road to get a few minutes on tape.

But that is a step too far. So I do the next-best thing. I sink down so low in my seat that passing motorists will only notice an open window and a long arm concluding in a microphone. I manage to record thirty seconds of ambience before my arm starts to tremble.

I really am quite shocked at the level of my fear. How will I take down Willem if the sight of his house almost makes me dissociate? Wait, I have actually been sitting here for a few minutes without really thinking about it. Am I dissociating right now? It is time to listen to my body and get far away, and quickly.

But first, I must announce my intentions on tape.

‘I am going to have one more drive past, and then I’m driving to his work. His most basic daily routine … driving to the office. Because everything is changing. I am no longer the one who doesn’t know about him. He’s the one who doesn’t know about me.’

I need to sound braver on this tape. ‘Soon, we’ll have our very first encounter in decades,’ I tell a theoretical Willem. ‘And this time, the surprise will be all yours.’

And only then do I understand why I have come here. I needed to know where he is. He is not a theoretical monster that holds sway over Three Anchor Bay. He just lives in a house here – that house right over there – among regular Capetonians who are nothing like him.

This is part of the power I need to take back. He should be afraid of me, because he is the prey now. Just before I switch on the ignition, I know what I am here to say.

‘Willem,’ I say, ‘I am sitting outside your house.’