Читать книгу The Lazarus Effect - HJ Golakai - Страница 10

At the age of sixteen she’d met Ian Fourie, Adele Paulsen began. They were two middle-class coloured teenagers growing up in Athlone, her family being further down the ladder of the class system than the Fouries. It was the early eighties and the winds of change weren’t blowing through apartheid South Africa yet, or at least not hard enough to keep up with the tide of ambition swirling inside Ian. His aura of “more-ness” had him destined for far greater things than what the restrictive government had mapped out for “non-whites” of his kind. Bright herself, Adele was nevertheless content with her lot in life and vacillated between nursing and teaching. Highest on her list of priorities was to adore her secret boyfriend. Ian was immensely intelligent, but like many talented men was controlled by an insufferable matriarch.

“It’s amazing how powerful men can be such shrivelled assholes in their mothers’ presence.”

Vee gave an involuntary start at the sound of an expletive coming out of the mouth of such a collected, well-spoken woman.

“Ian’s family didn’t have much more than mine, but to see his mother carry on you’d think they were rolling in it. Every time I came by, that crabby old bat had her face scrunched up like I came to steal something. In a way, I guess . . . I guess I did. We were both so young and didn’t think for one second we wouldn’t end up together. It was that naive first love.”

“What made you stop seeing each other?”

“We didn’t. We never actually broke up, not formally. He left in December 1981. One day he was here in Cape Town, and the next he wasn’t. He had family abroad, in Europe. His mother didn’t want him leaving the country to study medicine, but after he started up with me it became the best idea she’d ever heard. I knew Ian wouldn’t pass up the chance in a million years. Not that our relationship didn’t matter. Ian’s just like that, always has been. He has this fire to accomplish things, and nothing should ever stand in his way. Emotions . . . love and things like that just have to work their way around what he plans to accomplish.”

The bitterness left her voice, and she turned on a softer look. “He isn’t all cold, ambitious bastard. Ian’s a good man; he truly is. He protects and provides for all the people he loves. I think so much is expected of him by so many people, it gets hard for him to balance being successful and keeping everybody happy.”

She still loves him. Tightness closed around Vee’s heart. Did she still look like this to others, deflated and blindly defending a man who had, to all intents and purposes, moved on with his life and excluded her from it? What was love worth at the end of the day, when someone left you behind without a backward glance?

“We stayed in contact as much as we could. We didn’t talk much about where our relationship was going or if it was going anywhere at all. Ian didn’t really want to talk about things like that, and being apart took a huge toll on his studies, so I stopped asking. There was nothing either of us could do about it. After a while we just grew up. I for one started feeling so stupid waiting for a man who’d be so different when he returned – that’s if he ever did. He’d be a doctor and I’d be a teacher, you know? Things were changing drastically. Apartheid seemed suddenly on its last legs and us ‘non-whites’ were going to have so many new opportunities. But at the end of the day, he’d still be a doctor and I’d be a teacher. I started thinking . . .”

You thought his mother was right.

“Maybe his mother had a point, much as I hated to admit it. And you know what men are like when they’re far away. Who knows what they’re doing? I was so young, and if I didn’t move on my whole life would pass me by. So . . .”

Adele shrugged, a world of history in her shoulders. She’d done what she had to, and damned if she didn’t look ashamed and apologetic about it. Her demeanour spoke of a woman who believed, to her own bewilderment, in one true love for a person in their lifetime.

“We fell out of touch eventually, and that made it easier. There were other men. Some were wonderful, and I tried to take the relationship seriously. But . . . have you ever been in love?”

Vee looked at the floor.

“Then you know what I mean. Sometimes you pretend to get over someone so well you start to believe it. You remember all the history, everything they put you through, and tell yourself you’ll never get past it. Then you plan this new life that doesn’t include them any more. And all the time you’re doing it, something inside you knows you’re completely full of shit.”

Vee fidgeted a little, unprepared for such honesty and vulnerability so early in the interview. There would never be a time when she would get completely used to the raw glare of heartache, no matter how many hard-luck tales she heard. Distraught mothers didn’t normally allow strange journalists into their homes and let their hearts bleed all over the floor.

“What happened when Ian finally came home?”

Adele shrugged again, only this time it was more a lazy lifting and resigned dropping of the shoulders. As if gravity was too strong to encourage more.

“What I expected to happen happened. We didn’t just pick up where we left off; too much time had passed for that. Actually we danced around the issue for quite a while. I heard talk in the old neighbourhood that he was home for good, but over a year passed before we saw each other again. Cape Town’s not that big, but you can avoid people if you want to. We finally ran into each other at a party at a mutual friend’s place. He looked so much the same. Only difference was he was married.”

She looked over as if expecting reproach. Vee stayed impassive.

“I knew about it – of course I knew. His wife wasn’t with him that night. She was very pregnant then, about to have their first child. I only saw her in passing over the years, and not very often. We got to meet properly much later on.”

“What was she like? When you finally did meet?”

“We didn’t talk much that night. Both of us wanted to pretend for a while,” Adele ignored the question and ploughed on as if reminiscing alone in her sitting room. “That’s what grown-ups are supposed to do, keep face and moralise until they’re not fooling anyone any more. At first we just met up for drinks, to catch up. But it never stays at just that, not with a man you have a past with. We shared all the old stories from back in the day and laughed . . . It became a routine. We’d meet up for some made-up reason, or one of us would pretend to be ‘in the neighbourhood’, until . . .”

She turned away, her expression filled with a tempest of too many emotions for Vee to untangle.

“After Jacqui disappeared . . . I started thinking maybe it was God’s way of punishing me, or both of us, for the way we conducted ourselves. I know it’s so unhealthy thinking that way, that a child’s life needs to be sacrificed to set things right again. But I can’t help feeling if we’d been more careful and she’d never been conceived, or if I’d been stricter and done more to keep her away from that pathetic family, none of this would’ve happened.”

“When did Jacqui get to know her father’s other family? Was it your idea, or her father’s, to be closer to them?”

A sharp, bitter laugh burst out of Adele, as if she had just heard the most ridiculous thing ever uttered in her presence. “Whose idea was it? My God, it wasn’t anybody’s grand idea. We didn’t all sit down like mature adults and say, ‘Hey, wouldn’t it be fantastic if our families got together and acted like one big happy unit.’ We never did that, that never happened. How could it?” She shook her head, chuckling again into her tea. Then she set the cup down and fixed Vee with her full and very grave attention. “You really have no clue, do you?”

She softened as she regarded her feet, crossed at the ankles. “You know, when you called me wanting to talk I thought, I hoped, Ian was finally stepping up. That finally he wants to stop being macho and grieving alone, or expecting the police to work miracles after two years, and that he hired someone. It doesn’t seem like that’s the case.”

Vee waited.

“Jacqui was born not long after Sean. In fact, Jacqui’s near in age to the three eldest Fourie kids. She was born after Serena, the same year. Carina did not waste time. She got pregnant just after they were married, and popped three more kids like it was going out of fashion. I assumed she would act different, being a doctor and white and all that. Maybe take some time to get to know his family, get used to the prejudiced mess this country was. Ian might as well’ve stayed and married a coloured girl, another darkie like him. A European one didn’t seem to be much different.”

“I take it there’s no love lost between you and the missus.”

“How could there be, considering the situation he put us both in?” Adele clarified: “Ian is no fool. He’s brainy but not lacking in social skills the way the clever ones are. Especially with women; he has a very special way with women. Not just in that way, if you know what I mean. He just has a way of making you . . . obey him somehow. I don’t think anybody ever really discusses things with Ian, but you just find yourself somehow going along with a grand plan. The grand plan concerning his two families was just that: he had two families and they would stay separate. I’m sure you’re aware this kind of thing happens all the time.”

Big house, small house. Vee was very familiar with it, having grown up in a similar set-up. It was as old as the hills and a virtually indestructible pillar of the African family structure.

“And of course it was up to me to do most of the staying away, not that I had any intention of doing otherwise. They’ve always been in Pinelands and I was still in Athlone. Not too hard to lead separate lives. But that was right when everything happened.

“Sean developed cancer,” she continued. “Some form of juvenile leukaemia. Life plays the cruellest jokes, or then again maybe it’s God. He was the sweetest one of their kids; you couldn’t find a nicer child. The painful irony was both parents were gifted doctors who had to stand by and watch him die without being able to do anything. No parent should have to go through that.”

“I thought so much had improved in the cancer field,” Vee said, digging through her rudimentary science archive. “Especially for children. I know the treatment isn’t always successful, but these days it isn’t usually fatal, right?”

“I think that’s correct,” Adele agreed, “but the type Sean had was severe. I remember the first time Ian told me about it. He was so broken, even though he tried so hard to be optimistic and rational, the way a doctor should. That boy was the world to him. Sean was about five or six then, two years older than Jacqui. Something about the treatment he got must’ve worked, because after a while he went into remission. Then, years later, the cancer came back, and this time it had claws. He was taken overseas, but still . . . So they started looking at the option of bone marrow donors and . . . eventually Ian and Carina came to me.”

It took a beat for two and two to equate.

“Jacqueline was Ian’s child, too. She and Sean were blood. The doctors always start with the family first, and in this case they assumed they had a lot of options open. I’ve never seen such bad luck before. Three siblings, and not one was a match for Sean – not even little Rosemary. Ian had no choice but to ask for our help. At first he came in here demanding it, saying it was his fatherly right to use one child to help the other as he saw fit. I told him to adjust his attitude and come back when he had.”

She sighed. “It wasn’t the kindest thing to do at the time, but Ian also picks the wrong moment to aggravate me. He can’t admit he’s wrong or needs help; it’s always calling in a favour or being entitled to it. He said the most utter bullshit, about doing so much to provide for Jacqui and what-not, like that made us obligated to him. He even offered to pay me if she was a match.”

“So . . . what did you decide?”

“You mean, did I let them ‘compensate’ me for using my kid? No, I didn’t. I’m a mother too – how could I? What got to me was Ian suggesting it could all be kept quiet. Slide me some cash, take Jacqui to the hospital to do whatever they needed to do and get Sean the help he needed.

“I don’t know what that man had in mind, but he was willing to do something shady and risk losing his medical licence rather than confess to his wife about us.

“That’s when I saw him for who he really was, someone who cared much more about his bloody career and his image. He loved that wife of his, but it was my bed he came to sleep in. Then he expects to snap his fingers and I put my daughter through pain for what? I knew then I’d never get any respect unless I demanded it, so I demanded it. He had to tell Carina the truth, and they both had to come to my home and speak to me about it properly. Which they did. But it didn’t end there.”

Vee read her body language. “You were still apprehensive about the donation process.”

Adele nodded, looking ashamed. “The first tests were only blood tests to see if they were compatible. With half-siblings I thought it was a long shot. Then they were a good match, and it got real. Even after we explained it to her, Jacqui was so brave and wanted to do it. She met Sean and they really hit it off. The procedure sounded straightforward, and there’d be anaesthesia and everything, but it was too overwhelming. I’m not proud of it, but I lost my nerve and backed out. I got Jacqui released from the hospital and took her home.”

In the uncomfortable silence, Vee did some mental calculation. With Sean aged fourteen, Jacqui would have been twelve. Both old enough to absorb the awkwardness of their parents’ situation, but not enough to understand every adult undercurrent of friction. She tried to picture the situation: two families, subsets of each other, trying to put on brave faces at a very strained time. Adele’s decision would appear insensitive and immature to some, but it couldn’t have been easy for her.

“That didn’t go down well with Ian and Carina.”

“I’m not a monster. I knew I’d crack, but I just needed some time to think. Then Sean took a turn for the worse, and it really put things into perspective. It wasn’t about me or Carina or any of us. I didn’t need any more convincing, but Carina came to see me, to beg me to help save her son. Mother to mother. She wasn’t the same cold, hateful woman who sat in my lounge when we first met face to face. I agreed to take Jacqui back in the next morning.”

“But the procedure didn’t work, did it? Sean died.”

Adele nodded. “It never even went ahead. In that short period Sean developed an infection. I’m no doctor, but I know they tried everything to save him. Infections are common before transplants, and his system was already too weak from everything else. He passed away in September, not long after his birthday.”

From her handbag Adele produced a pack of Stuyvesant Extra Mild and tipped it in Vee’s direction. Vee declined. Smoking was not one of her vices, and she didn’t intend to make it one. Enough chipping away at her already.

“I warned Jacqui not to smoke,” Adele said, exhaling out of the open window. “I never used to. It’s a disgusting habit. Told her it would lead to an early grave.” She shook her head bitterly. From her lips to God’s ears.

“How did Jacqui take Sean’s death?”

Adele knocked her ash out of the window and walked out of the room. A few minutes later she returned with the squirming puppy in her arms. “Sorry,” she answered. “He’s not house-trained yet, but I never have the heart to leave him out in the cold.”

As she finished the cigarette, she said: “My girl was so different from me. Sometimes I wondered if they didn’t give me the wrong baby at the hospital. She took it so hard, because to her she messed up. She was like that, so protective. When she loved someone, she made their well-being a personal responsibility. Something her father could’ve learned a lot from.”

Now came the hard part. Vee knew the next couple of questions could draw a line in the sand and forever define her relationship with whoever she was interviewing, for better or worse.

“Mrs Paulsen, you speak about Jacqui in the past tense. I’m sorry to have to ask, but does that mean you don’t believe she’s still alive?”

Without hesitation Adele shook her head. “No,” she replied flatly. “Wish I could say different, something like ‘I feel it in my gut’ or ‘Deep down a mother knows’, but I can’t. Jacqui was a handful. She was growing wild, and I was essentially a struggling single parent. But one thing she wasn’t was cruel and maliciously dishonest. Yes, she lied – what teenager doesn’t? But she wouldn’t just disappear without one word, not one, to tell me where she was or how she was doing. Nothing would make my girl do that to me. So, no, I don’t think she’s alive.”

She dropped the whole of her dejected weight back into the sofa. “I told her to stay away from those Fouries. I knew nothing good could come out of it, but she wanted to be part of them so much. She wanted a real family. I tried to be enough, but they had this draw for her.”

“You suspect they had something to do with her disappearance?”

“Don’t know what to think. I’ve been over it a thousand times in my mind, and it doesn’t make any sense at all. This city’s dangerous for children, but no one ever thinks it can happen to their own. I’ve learnt so much about missing children these past two years . . . Do you know how many children go missing from homes in South Africa? Over one thousand six hundred per year. And three hundred of them are never heard from again.”

Her voice cracked, and she reached for and lit a new cigarette. The burning circle of tobacco illuminated a film of liquid brilliance in her eyes, threatening to break over the lids. “One thousand six hundred a year,” she whispered, “and my baby’s one of them.”

Vee switched off the recorder and let the silence hang. Families and their lies and wars. If anything was familiar . . . She refrained from rubbing her tired eyes. Outside, the light faded fast.

“Do you have a picture?” she asked.

Adele walked over to a dresser, retrieved and handed over a thick envelope. A lot of thought had gone into putting it together. Among the papers were two photographs. The uppermost showed Jacqui on the beach, fully clothed and laughing as she held a Coke. She had a small face, framed by shoulder-length curly hair, and her mother’s brown eyes. A pretty girl. The second showed her decked out in full uniform, forcing an embarrassed smile for the camera on what looked like a momentous school day.

“Keep it,” Adele said, blowing smoke in Vee’s direction. “I don’t need so many any more. Sometimes I think I’m the only one in the world who still cares what she looked like.”