Eva Mazza - Sex, Lies & Stellenbosch

Gerard had organised for Claudia to share the evening treatment with Jen. On their walk back, Claudia shared that she had been dating a younger man for the last two-and-a-half years. “I met him at a mutual friend’s house. Little did we know that it was a set-up! An unusually successful one at that.”

He was a well-known Cape Town-based divorce attorney whose clients included many celebrity cases. She nudged Jen: “If ever you want a divorce lawyer, he’s your man. He’s hellishly expensive, but there’s no doubt you will win a very good settlement, especially with what you witnessed this morning.”

The moon had risen in the sky, and there was enough light to illuminate the path. It was a perfect summer’s evening: crickets chirruping relentlessly and the occasional bat flying low across the night sky, clearly making Claudia a little skittish. She’s definitely a city girl , Jen mused. There was a comfortable silence as Jen processed the evening’s conversation.

“Do you believe in fate?” Jen smiled. “I’m certainly starting to believe that it was written in the stars that I would come here and meet a woman who is a psychologist, who is dating a divorce lawyer. I mean, what are the odds?”

Claudia laughed. “I suppose. Sometimes I see it as just a fluke. I don’t know; perhaps it is written in the stars. I mean, I miss Daniel terribly, but I couldn’t imagine my life without Leonard. Maybe I was supposed to be married to Daniel for only five years. Maybe I’m one of the lucky few, because those five years of marriage were close to perfect.”

On arriving at the lodge, they found it lit by candles. The calming scent of lavender incense wafted through the lounge and generic ‘Eastern-style’ music played softly in the background. The lounge had been turned into a makeshift therapy room with two portable massage beds placed in the middle. Jen and Claudia stripped down to their panties and lay face down in anticipation of an indulgent hour of pampering. They were silent during their massages. Jen succumbed to her therapist’s knowledgeable hands. Her body ached, and the masseuse found every part needing attention.

Before she knew it, Jen had dozed off into a deep sleep. She was dreaming about John. She dreamt that the two of them were making love. He was caressing her breasts, kissing her neck, moving downwards, over her stomach, with his lips. He stood up to face her and he looked longingly into her eyes. “I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you more,” she answered.

But then his face hardened, full of aggressive lust. “Patty,” he said, “baby.”

“Mrs Pearce, Mrs Pearce,” the therapist was whispering in her ear. Jen opened her eyes. “We’re done. Ms Feldman said to say goodnight and that she’d phone you tomorrow.”

“Ms Feldman?” Jen asked, disorientated.

“Claudia Feldman.”

She began to get her bearings. “Oh! Of course. She’s gone already?”

“Yes, you’d fallen asleep. We left you for a while, while we turned down your bed.” The therapist handed Jen a white waffle gown. “You should have a very good night’s rest.”

“Thank you.” Jen waited for the door to close.

Waking up from a deep sleep, her dream and the darkness and silence overwhelmed her with an intense emptiness and loneliness. She lay in a foetal position and began to cry. Silent whimpers turned into loud sobs. Her shoulders heaved as she purged herself of the day’s trials. Emotions she had suppressed for years came spilling out. She cried for her youth; she cried for her mother; she cried for her children; she cried for herself, but most of all, she cried for her loss. The loss of the man whom she loved and thought she knew. Who was he? Who is he?

She was inconsolable, feeling she could not bear to do this on her own. She had to phone someone. But who could she talk to at this time of night? Not Claudia. She hardly knew her, and why would Claudia want some emotional wreck ruining her much-needed rest?

Frankie. God knows Frankie would call me if she were in a crisis. Frankie’s phone was on voicemail. “Frankie,” she sobbed, “I could do with a friend right now. Please phone me when you get this message.”

She tried to pull herself together, but she couldn’t stand the loneliness, the silence. She would try Frankie’s house phone. This was an emergency. It’s late, but Frankie will understand. I would.

Frankie’s landline rang for quite some time until Lee’s sleepy voice wafted through the receiver. Jen tried to sound calm. “Lee, I hope I didn’t wake you. Is Frankie asleep? I really need to speak to her, please?”

“She said she had booked in at the spa with you. Is she not with you right now, Jen?” He sounded far more awake now.

The room spun. Oh damn, damn, damn! She probably used me as an excuse to meet her lover! I’ve just blown her cover. She thought quickly. “She may have booked in to her own lodge, Lee. I made it very clear with reception that I was not to be disturbed. I took a sleeping tablet, so I haven’t been awake till now.”

“Have you tried her cellphone?” he asked.

“No, I haven’t. I’ll try now.”

Jen’s hands shook as she redialled Frankie’s cellphone. Again, no answer. “Frankie, it’s me again. I phoned your house. I needed to speak to you desperately. Lee answered. He said you’re supposed to be with me at the spa. I’m sorry, Frankie, but I think I’ve just blown it for you. Please phone me back.”

Jen paced, waiting for Frankie’s call. This had certainly put an end to her little pity-party. The phone rang and Jen answered immediately.

“Shit, Jen! I should’ve told you I was using you as an alibi tonight. Sorry.” Jen was furious, but Frankie hadn’t noticed. “You said that you’d made up some excuse. What is it?” And then as an afterthought, “Are you okay, by the way?”

“I’m fine now. I’ll be okay,” Jen said. Suppressing her anger, she relayed her conversation with Lee then ended with, “Just sort out your lie, please. I really don’t want to be used in your deceit, Frankie. Make sure I’m not implicated in your alibi. I’ve enough to stress about.”

Jen ended their call abruptly. Bloody self-centred woman! She got back into bed and lay there in the dark. She was dead tired, but sleep wouldn’t come to her. She tossed and turned, mulling over things◦– things people had said or implied about John. Much of it just didn’t add up.

The next morning, she walked to Claudia’s lodge for breakfast, wearing a purple bikini◦– imported from Israel◦– under a matching sarong selected by Jenny, the receptionist. It was hellishly expensive, but she didn’t care. It had been some time since she had worn a two piece or had spent so much on swimwear. But after last night’s tossing and turning, she didn’t give it a second thought.

Claudia was tall and lithe, with small perky breasts and broad, bony shoulders. She wore a full-piece costume cut high at the hip. “They’re coming back,” she told Jen. “The eighties’ high-cut costumes. Do you remember the girls in the Wham video?”

Jen nodded appreciatively and broke into song, “Club Tropicana drinks are free…”

They packed up laughing. In the background Gerard was preparing their breakfast with a grin on his face, pretending to be invisible.

“You look terrific!” Jen said admiringly.

“How was your night? You were virtually comatose when I left you.”

“I hit such a downer.”

“Night makes things even bleaker. Why didn’t you phone me?”

“I hardly know you, Claudia, and I thought the last thing you needed was an emotional wreck to ruin your holiday. I tried Frankie, the one who had warned me about Patty.”