Eva Mazza - Sex, Lies & Stellenbosch

“Frankie’s car was parked here on Sunday, late morning. And Sunday night, Lee was here, but not for long. Then Frankie came back after Lee had gone. It was very late.”

“John said Frans was here.” There was a long pause. Gladys looked down at her feet.

“I didn’t see his car.”

Jen smiled at her helper, her babysitter, her wingman. She knew that she had put her in an awkward position. She knew that Gladys had been reluctant to divulge information for fear of losing her job. Domestic staff didn’t involve themselves in the affairs of the madam and the boss.

“Thank you, Gladys.” Jen closed the bathroom door before the tears streamed down her face.

Claudia had warned her that after her initial discovery, more truths would be revealed, whether she wanted them to be or not. “And when they do, Jen, you need to explore their validity, but try not to act immediately. Start to gather more and more evidence. Put the pieces together as you would a puzzle. It’s important to remain as ‘normal’ as you possibly can, because if you do reveal what you’ve discovered too soon, you will blow your one chance at finding the whole truth, perhaps for good.”

Jen closed Frankie’s perfume bottle and hid it at the back of her closet. She also took out the accumulated winnings that she had ‘earned’ from John and hid them more securely in her wardrobe. “This is it. It’s time to put on those big girl panties, darling , ” she told herself as she dialled Claudia’s number.

Claudia was clearly not surprised. “It’s fairly obvious with hindsight, isn’t it? Frankie saying she was with you, knowing full well you wouldn’t be at home. Instead, she used the gap you’d inadvertently created to spend time with your husband. You now know that John cheated on you with Patty, his boys’ night poker games are actually visits to a brothel, what he is buying on his credit card is dubious to say the least, he lied to you about Frans being there last night and you know for sure that Frankie was ‘visiting’ while you were at the spa.”

She reminded Jen of what she had set out to do. “You have two very important appointments tomorrow. For God’s sake, Jen, please just go to them.”

Another call came through. “I need to take this call, Claudia. It’s Pete.” Jen added, “I will go, I promise. And thanks for everything.”

“Hang in there, Jen,” Claudia said, before hanging up the phone.

“I’ve been worried about you,” Pete said, not giving Jen a chance to say hello. “Dad told me you two came to blows after his party. Can’t comment on your speech. I was too pissed to say my speech, never mind listen to yours.”

Jen changed the subject. “Where are you? Are you still at work?” she asked.

Jen could hear Pete inhale deeply before answering. “I’m done working for him.”

Jen paused before speaking. “Don’t be impulsive, Pete,” she advised. “Dad needs you. The farm needs you.”

Pete tried to sound convincing, but Jen knew her son too well. “Ma, don’t worry about all of this shit.”

“I worry about you.”

Pete laughed. “Well, don’t. It’s time you start thinking about yourself, Ma. We all fine. As for me…”

“Does Dad know?”

Pete hesitated. “I’ll let you know what I decide. I’m pretty sure Dad’s not gonna expect me back after what went down yesterday, and I’m not sure I want to work for him any more. But I don’t want you to worry, okay?”

“Just give yourselves a little time.” The growing rift between Pete and his father was apparent to all. She shifted the focus again. “Tell me about Brig. Have you heard from her? I see she tried to get hold of me.”

“Brig is Brig,” he said. “I must admit, she’s been quite upset. I think she feels bad about her histrionics at Dad’s party. But you never can be sure with her. Phone her back, Ma. Maybe she wants to say sorry.”

Jen couldn’t face speaking to Brigit, although she knew she must. Pete ended the conversation.

“Ma, got to go. Phone Brig back, Ma. Love you.”

Jen sighed. How she loved both her children. But Pete, he had a very special place in her heart.

Lee sat in his armchair, feet on the coffee table, reading the paper when Frankie walked in from her afternoon’s pampering at Radiance salon in Technopark. She carried a month’s supply of creams, tonics, oils, cleansers and polishes◦– the bare necessities for her beauty regimen.

“You’re home. I was worried about you. I’ve been trying to reach you the whole day,” she sang, trying to sound jovial.

He grunted back at her, his eyes still scanning the business section.

“Have you eaten? I asked Faith to make her lasagne you love, and a salad.”

He didn’t answer but she served up his meal anyway, sitting opposite him at the kitchen table, an empty plate in front of her.

“I’m not eating alone, Frankie. Dish up for yourself. I’ll wait.”

Usually, she would argue, but Frankie sensed that this would be a bad idea tonight. They ate in silence.

“I need some wine,” Lee barked, scraping his chair back. He selected his farm’s flagship, the Cabernet Sauvignon 2001, from the cellar just off the kitchen. One of their best years, but older than Frankie would have thought appropriate for a simple supper at home.

Lee sniffed the cork. He poured a little wine into his glass, swirled it then lifted it to his nose.

“Is it corked?” Frankie asked softly.

He took a sip.

“It is corked, isn’t it?”

Lee’s wine glass hurtled across the kitchen. Frankie shielded her face with her hands as the glass shattered against the wall behind her, red wine dripping down the tiles. Lee’s fists hit the table. “Yes, the wine’s corked, Frankie. Like our fucking marriage?”

Anger replaced anxiety. She had witnessed too much aggression growing up to not tolerate it in her home. She mocked, “What’s with the ridiculous comparison? Feeling poetic, darling?” Lee’s breath heaved. Frankie continued regardless, “And what’s with you throwing your weight around? Does it make you feel more like a man, now that your dick isn’t working as it used to?”

Lee shoved his face in front of hers. His fingers dug deep into her arm. Panting he shouted, “Don’t you ever mock me!” He grabbed the bottle with his free hand. Frankie cringed. “You hear? I won’t have it! Our marriage, darling, is like this wine: corked! Spoiled!” He slammed the Cabernet against the wall so that he was left holding only the bottle neck. “Absolutely fucked!”

Red wine was everywhere. God, it looks like Violet Beauregarde has exploded in the kitchen .

He let go of his grip on her. The chair took his full weight as he collapsed into it. “We had a great marriage, Frankie, and you screwed it up.”

So, there it was. She had been caught out after all. Anxiety resurfaced and, in an attempt to calm her nerves, she began to pick up the broken glass from the floor. A shard tore into her forefinger.

“Sit down, for Christ’s sake! What have you got to say?” he asked. “I want to know what you’ve got to say!”

“I, I don’t know what to say,” she said sucking the blood from her finger. “What do you want me to say?”

Lee pushed his chair back and it fell to the floor with a crash. The noise shook her to the core. “Damn it, Frankie, you’ve been fucking around, and you’ve got nothing to say?” He chucked ice into a whisky glass he retrieved from the kitchen cupboard.

Frankie pushed her plate of food aside. What was she supposed to do or say? How much did he know?

“When I married you, Frankie, warts and all, you agreed to conduct yourself in a manner that befitted a wife and mother.” Frankie so wanted to do a Disney Channel eye roll, but she daren’t. She was a child again, and Lee was her mother, her teachers, the principal all rolled into one. She was that delinquent kid, the one who would never be good enough. “That’s all I asked of you in exchange for everything I have. Everything!”