Читать книгу Blindside - Wilna Adriaanse - Страница 6

Joe’s was crowded when Ellie arrived. The pub was one street from Durban Road, just before you crossed the N1 from the Bellville side. It was a popular watering hole, and many police officers stopped there on their way home from work. The voices quietened down a bit when she walked in. Those who hadn’t attended the funeral remarked on her darker hair. Ellie shrugged.

Joe came out from behind the counter and took her hands. “I’m glad to see you survived the day.”

His hands closed firmly around hers. In his mid-sixties, he was still a strong man. He had been a wrestler in his younger days and it was still evident in his build. It’s just the hair that hadn’t lasted. He was almost completely bald, except for a thin strip of grey around the back of his head.

Ellie shook her head. “The day’s not over yet.”

Someone touched her shoulder and she turned to find Brigadier Ibrahim Ahmed standing behind her.

She nodded stiffly. “Brigadier.”

“It was a fitting farewell.” When she didn’t answer, he touched her arm. “The two of us can sort out our differences another day. Now isn’t the time. Let’s say goodbye to him the way he would have wanted.”

She nodded. “I appreciate your being here.”

He cleared his throat and rapped on the bar counter. “Could we have some quiet for a moment, please?” He motioned at a few youngsters at the back of the room who had started talking again. “Shut up back there.” He turned to Ellie. “Mac, we don’t have words, and I don’t actually have the faintest idea what to say, except that it was a privilege to know him. And to work with him. With that man behind you, you never had to look over your shoulder. His death is a great loss to all of us. I suppose we could say that, given a choice, it was how he would have wanted to go, but that doesn’t make it any easier. It’s hard enough when any innocent person is taken out like that, but it’s doubly hard when it’s one of our own.” He stopped for a moment and when he spoke again his voice was thin. “To the Irishman.” He raised his glass.

There was a loud “Hear, hear!” and then one of the younger men spoke. “Everything I know about police work I learnt from John McKenna.”

“Hawu, man, he could chew your ear off if you fucked up,” a young black man said from the front of the room. “But he was straight as an arrow. You always knew where you stood with him.”

“Remember that night we were going to raid that house in Bonteheuwel?” a colleague of many years joined in. “We worked on it for months, everything was in place, and then he got a feeling that something wasn’t right. Hell, the guys were furious.”

“Yes, but we were more scared of the Irishman’s sixth sense than of the devil himself. No one fucked with it. None of the profiling textbooks come close to that man’s eye and instincts.”

Ellie let them carry on. Allowed each one to reminisce and say his piece as they stood shoulder to shoulder. When they walked out of there they would take their private fears home with them, and the knowledge that it could have been them. Her own words stuck in her throat.

She was exhausted and drank deeply from the glass Joe had put in her hand. She hadn’t eaten all day and felt the whisky drop straight into her stomach, where it burned.

“What did he always say when he had his first glass in his hand?” someone called out to her.

“May your glass be ever full, may the roof over your head be always strong, and may you be in heaven half an hour before the devil knows you’re dead,” she called back, and everyone laughed.

She raised her glass. “Here’s to you, old man. I hope you took the devil by surprise.”

“Oh, Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling,” her dad’s cousin began to sing. Before long his four old friends had joined in and were belting out the words.

When they got to the second verse, Ellie sang along.

“And if you come, when all the flowers are dying, and I am dead, as dead I well may be, you’ll come and find the place where I am lying and kneel and say an ‘Ave’ there for me.”

What a cliché, she thought. It wasn’t even one of her father’s favourite songs, yet gradually her voice petered out. When the last notes had faded away, she motioned to Joe. With her glass replenished, she made her way back to Ahmed.

“Have you had something to drink, Brigadier?”

He lifted his glass. “My wife says all this Coke is going to eat up my insides, but man cannot live on water alone. How’s your mother?”

“As well as can be. Heaven knows what my dad was thinking, leaving me alone with her.”

He shook his head. “Why do you sound so angry? It’s not like he had any say in the matter.”

“I don’t want to be, but I can’t help it. Why was he there at all? He had trained his people well. Why couldn’t he trust them to put up a roadblock?”

“If it hadn’t been him, it would have been someone else.”

The thought had crossed her mind, but she had quickly pushed it aside. If she pursued that line of thought, she’d have to offer up someone else’s life in exchange for his, and she knew, if she identified the person by name, she would never be able to look him in the eye again.

Ahmed sighed. “You’re young. You still need to learn that sometimes you do things you can’t explain, but you know it’s the right decision at the time.”

Ellie felt the whisky start taking the edge off the day. “Do you like lasagne?”

He shook his head. “Not particularly.”

“I was going to ask you to follow me home and take some with you. I wonder why everyone thinks of lasagne as comfort food.”

Before she could continue, she felt someone kiss her neck. She didn’t turn around.

“Sorry, babes, I couldn’t get away sooner. There was some trouble. Afternoon, Brigadier.”

“Greyling.”

Albert put his arm around Ellie’s shoulders and kissed her cheek. “I’m genuinely sorry. I tried …”

“Hey, Greyling …” someone called from the bar before he could say anything more.

“Yo, my bro, pass something along, man. I’m dying of thirst here,” he called back over her head.

“Mac, leave the guy so he can come and have a drink with us.”

Ellie motioned with her head. “Go.”

He gave her a wide-eyed grin. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise. Can I bring you something? Brigadier, a refill?”

“I must go.”

“Babes?”

Ellie shook her head. “I must get home too, before my mom kicks Vera and her husband out.”

“Will I see you tonight?”

“I don’t think so. We’ll talk later.”

He put his hands on either side of her face and kissed her lips. “I’d really like to see you.”

She and Ahmed walked out together. It was slow going – everyone wanted to say goodbye. Clive touched her shoulder in passing. Joe came out from behind the counter and hugged her briefly.

“Hang in there, my girl. It will get better, but it’s going to be pretty crap for a while.”

“Thanks. It helps to know what to expect.” She motioned with her hand. “Thanks for this. I’m sure he’s smiling, wherever he is.”

“It’s a pleasure. I’ll miss the old bastard.”

“Don’t let these drunk arses drive, and kick them out just now. Tomorrow their wives will be complaining to me,” Ahmed said as he shook Joe’s hand.

“I will, Brigadier.”

Outside, the shadows were getting long and only the tallest buildings still caught the sun’s last rays. Ahmed walked her to her car in silence.

She unlocked the door, but didn’t get in.

“Brigadier …”

He held up his hand. “Before you say anything, hear me out. I want you to know I understand how you feel. I would’ve felt the same if I were in your shoes, but I can’t allow you to take me on in front of everyone. Firstly, you’re forcing my hand and, secondly, I don’t want to fight with you about your dad. I was very fond of that man and I’m very sad about his death. What makes it worse is that you don’t seem to trust me. I’ll do whatever I can to find out who’s responsible.”

“That’s not what I said. I just want to help. I know how many cases are piled on everyone’s desks. It’s not going well on our side at the moment. With the big boss suspended and more people under suspicion, the rest of us are working around the clock. I just want to make sure you get the information you need.”

“I promise if I suspect anyone of hampering our investigation, I’ll tell you straight away. In the meantime I don’t want you any­where near the case. I’ve got an experienced team working on it and I have complete faith that they’ll come up with an answer soon.”

“Thank you.”

“I still think it would be a good idea to take a day or two’s leave.”

“It won’t make anything better.”

“I’m sure your mom needs you.”

“She might need something, but it’s not me.”

“I’m just saying … get your act together before you go back.”

She frowned. “I hear there was a shooting at Alexei Barkov’s house. Brigadier Zondi is on the warpath. Apparently fingers are already being pointed. They’re quick to say our intelligence should have been better.”

“By this time you should know fingers will always be pointed. No one wants to catch a ball of shit like that. But we can talk about this later. Tonight’s not the night.”

He stood next to her car while she got in. “Look after yourself, and your mom.”

She switched on the engine, but didn’t pull away immediately. “I don’t want to find out who shot my dad in the papers.” What she really wanted to ask him was whether he thought it could have had something to do with her, but she couldn’t find the words. And she suspected she didn’t want to hear the answer.

He put his hand on the window frame. “I can’t make any promises.”

She looked in the rearview mirror as she drove away and saw him standing motionless for a moment. There had been a lot of gossip when he was appointed her father’s senior and many of her dad’s colleagues had muttered about political quotas and affirmative action. But amid all the grumbling, John McKenna had put out his hand to congratulate Ahmed and assured him of his loyalty. It was the beginning of a unique and very successful relationship. Not that they had always seen eye to eye – for that, they’d been too alike – but they’d had great respect for each other.

She put the radio on. When she heard the first sounds from her playlist she rolled down the window and turned up the volume.

“Gonna close my eyes, girl, and watch you go,” she sang along with David Gray. “Send a little prayer out to ya, ’cross the falling dark.”

At a red traffic light a woman stared at her and for a moment Ellie wanted to stick out her tongue. The woman looked ahead again and Ellie wondered where she was going with her cranky face. Heaven forbid she was on her way to a husband and kids.

The lights changed. When she turned from Durban Road onto the N1 heading into the city, she put her foot down. The wind plucked at her hair through the open window, blew the words of the song away. Tell the repo man … you’re the one I love.

“I hate you, John McKenna!” she shouted into the wind. She took a deep breath to ease the painful muscles in her throat. She accelerated some more and did not slow down before she reached the Goodwood off-ramp. She had just turned into Giel Basson Drive when her cellphone started ringing. When she saw it was her mother she considered not answering.

“I’m nearly home, Mom.”

“Vera wants to go, but they don’t want to leave me alone. You’d swear I was a criminal.”

“I’ll only be a few minutes.” She ended the call and dropped the phone in the storage compartment between the two seats. She envied Vera and her husband for being able to leave.

When she opened the front door, she found her mom and her guests in the sitting room. Vera had her handbag on her lap. Her husband, Pete, was staring at the television screen, where a cricket match was in progress.

“What kept you?” her mom asked when she caught sight of Ellie.

“I’m sorry.” Ellie looked at Vera and Pete. “Thanks for staying. Please take some of the food in the fridge. We can’t possibly eat it all.”

Vera headed for the kitchen without a moment’s hesitation and returned with a stuffed shopping bag.

Ellie walked them to their car and thanked them again.

“What are you going to do with her? She can’t be on her own.”

“She won’t allow anyone to look after her and I have to go back to work.”

Vera seemed on the point of saying something, but thought better of it and got into the car. When they had driven away, Ellie stood on the pavement for a moment before she reluctantly walked back to the house.

“Surely I can have a drink now? It’s been a hell of a day, and everyone has had something to drink except me.” Her mom sounded like a petulant child.

“There are a few things we have to discuss.”

“Like what?” Her mom licked her lips and Ellie noticed that her hands were shaking. “I don’t need another lecture.”

“I have to go back to work tomorrow, Mom. And I have to know you’re going to look after yourself.”

“I’m sixty years old and I’ve always looked after myself. What makes you think I can’t do it now? Everyone thinks he’s the one who looked after me, but he was never here. I used to look after you, you know, and now you think I’m an idiot.” Her mom got up and placed her hands on her hips. “You’re just like him.”

“Mom …” Ellie felt the weariness dragging her down. “You’ve got to stop drinking so much.”

“You make it sound like I’m an alcoholic. I haven’t had a drink all bloody day …” Ellie saw her mom averting her eyes, the way she always did when she was lying. “I’ve never told you and your father to stop drinking and, God knows, it’s not as if you don’t drink. But I’m the one who has to stop!”

“The problem is that you battle to stop once you’ve started.”

“Oh, crap.” Her mom turned and walked down the passage. Moments later Ellie heard her bedroom door slam shut. She collapsed onto a chair.

Later, in her bedroom, she took off the black funeral garments one by one. Her mom had refused to wear black, but Ellie had gone shopping for a black dress. No other colour felt right. She hung the dress against the wardrobe door. Stripped off the black underclothes and wished she could strip off her skin the same way. Maybe the new one would be thicker. Her eyes fell on her image in the mirror. For better or for worse, whether you liked it or not, you continued to pass the genes on. She had her mom’s figure. Slender, medium height. Average. Boobs neither big nor small. She was probably a fashion designer’s ideal. More or less in proportion from head to toe. Nothing out of the ordinary.

But she looked like her dad’s people, and their genes had defined her. Melissa was right. She’d have to get rid of more than her hair colour if she wanted to escape her ancestry.

A girl got to know herself through the eyes of her father, she had once read. With a mother, there’s sometimes a subtext. But a father’s eyes are gentle. There’s no expectation, only acceptance.

She put on her pyjamas and got into bed. The bedroom was hers, yet it wasn’t any more. Once upon a time it had been a haven. Now it was just another room in a house where the walls resonated with her sorrow. She curled up under the duvet and closed her eyes. Maybe her mom couldn’t cry either, she thought. Maybe there are certain things you can’t do more than sniff about. But she couldn’t even do that, and the pressure in her chest kept building. After an hour she got up and took the duvet and a pillow out to the stoep. Douglas lay down beside her and she fell asleep at last with the dog’s ear between her fingers.