Recipes for Love and Murder (40 page)

Once the soup was simmering, I put it into the hotbox. Then I got out all the ingredients for the chocolate cake and the rusks. I decided to make my mother's muesli buttermilk rusks again. The ones with extra butter, as well as muesli, seeds and raisins.

I started with the cake. Just one cake.

But as I was adding the ingredients to my big mixing bowl, I decided to double the quantity. I was going to bake Kannemeyer and his policemen a cake. Maybe he hadn't saved my heart, but he had saved my life. Surely that was worth something.

While the muesli rusks were still drying out in the oven, I left home with two chocolate cakes and a big glass jar of chicken soup.

I delivered the cake to the police station. Kannemeyer and Reghardt weren't there but Piet gave me a big smile of thanks.

Jessie was doing well, but sleeping. The doctor said she could have some of the broth from the soup when she woke. No solids and definitely no cake just yet. I left the cake with her mother, who looked tired but had a smile that lit up the whole hospital.

When I got home I sat down at my kitchen table. It had been a good day. Jessie was doing fine. I had cooked up a storm. I looked at the cushions on my couch. They were flat and empty.

‘I do sometimes feel so . . . alone,' I said.

Talking to myself, now there was a sign I was turning into a crazy old lady.

Then I remembered the rusks in the oven. They would be ready to come out. I took out the tray and laid it on the table.

‘I'm not alone,' I said. ‘And there's no need to talk to myself. I've got you.'

I smiled. They were a golden buttery colour, with brown crunchy toasted seeds and dark chewy raisins. There were at least fifty of them. And rusks are just the best company.

I made myself a cup of coffee, and took six of them outside, and sat chatting and dipping them into my coffee and looking out at the best view from my stoep.

I was just fine.

CHAPTER EIGHTY-EIGHT

Those next couple of weeks I fed Jessie something every day. I had a pile of
Gazette
letters to catch up with, but I always made time to get that medicine-food into her body. Food made with love.

By day two she was eating cups of that chicken soup and on day three she even had a tiny piece of chocolate cake. She let her visitors polish off the cake. Soon she was able to eat some salads. When she ate her first vetkoek and mince, the doctor said she could go back home, so long as she rested a lot. We had a welcome home party around her bed. Reghardt made us all his bobotie. It was delicious. It was obvious enough in his eyes, but if you ever had any doubts about his love, you just had to taste that bobotie. He gave me his recipe. He added apricot jam and sliced almonds to the spicy mince, and he used sour cream in his custard topping. But it was the feelings he held in his heart as he cooked that gave it that special Reghardt flavour.

Kannemeyer never thanked me for that cake. Not that I needed thanks – it was a thank-you gift to him and you can't just go on thanking each other back and forth for ever. But it was an opportunity he could have taken if he wanted to call me. And he didn't.

I saw him now and again in town. Once he was in his van and he drove past like he hadn't noticed me. But Piet, who was next to him, lifted his fingers to say hello.

When Jessie was back part-time at the
Gazette
, I said to her: ‘Jessie, my skat, you are still a bit thin. Those geckos have hardly got enough to climb on. I think it's time for that big feast I've been promising you. With roast lamb and all your favourite foods.'

‘Ooh, lekker, Tannie M. I can't wait. Check how this gecko is climbing towards a big star.' She turned to show me the arrow scar just above her tattoo. ‘Cool, hey?'

A big pink box with long legs arrived at the door. Hattie's head popped round the side of the box.

‘Good morning, darlings,' she said. ‘Look what was at the post office for you, Tannie Maria.'

She plonked the box on my desk, along with three letters. I looked at the postmark on the box:
New York
. And the return address:
Candy's Boutique
. I opened it with Harriet and Jessie peering over my shoulders.

‘Goodness gracious,' said Hattie.

‘Ooh, sexy!' said Jessie.

Wrapped in tissue paper was a beautiful cream dress and a matching pair of shoes with a classy low heel. The sizes looked just right. Also in the box was some pearl nail varnish, and a thin pearl necklace.

Hattie picked the necklace up and rubbed a pearl on her teeth.

‘Fake, I'm afraid,' she said. ‘But the dress is fabulous.'

‘Try it on,' said Jessie.

‘Ag, no,' I said. ‘I'm not really in the mood.'

‘Later then, when you get home,' said Hattie.

But I knew I wouldn't be in the mood then either.

I gave us all beskuit and rooibos tea – we were all drinking that now because the doctor said it was good for Jessie. Then I sat down with my three latest letters. The first was from my friend, the mechanic. I recognised his envelope and writing, and I was happy to open it.

Dear Tannie Maria,
it said.

Thank you so much, you have really helped me. The recipe trick worked! And I also made the best chocolate cake Lucia has ever tasted. It just gets better and better with me and her.

It hasn't been a long time together but we know we are just right for each other. We would be very glad if you would come to our wedding in Riversdale on the 21
^st
of December. Please sit in the front, next to my brother from Cape Town. You will see the announcement on page three of the
Karoo Gazette
. My real name is Kobus (not Karel) Visagie, and Lucia's is Stella Vinknes. Feel free to bring a date.

I am deaf, but I can lip read quite well. My speaking isn't very good, so I don't do it much, which is why SMSs and letters and food are a good way for me to talk. But I hope you'll come and talk to me at the wedding anyway.

Everything of the best,

Kobus

I smiled and finished off my rusk. I didn't have a date, but I would go to Kobus's wedding.

The next letter was from Outshoorn.

Dear Tannie Maria,
I read.

This is the sweet-potato lady. You'll never guess what happened. On the Saturday morning after I saw your letter, I went down to the Farmers Co-op at 10 o'clock like you suggested, and there was a man hanging around the sacks of butternut, who looked like he was waiting for me. He was very friendly and kind. And then, not long after that, another three men and another four ladies all came, carrying things from their gardens or farms, and they stood around and spoke about ostrich mince and sweet potatoes. They had read the letters in the paper and wanted to meet and eat too! So we have formed an Ostrich Supper Club and we meet somewhere every Saturday night. It is lots of fun. If there are single (older) people who would like to join us, come to the butternut sacks at the Co-op at 10 o'clock Saturday mornings, and we'll let you know the menu and venue for our next event. Maybe you would also like to come one day, Tannie Maria?

I thanked her and gave her that recipe for ostrich casserole that fell out of the book in Martine's study a while back.

The third letter was from someone who had not written to me before. As I read, my breathing shook and my heart beat faster. It was from a man with a lamb.

CHAPTER EIGHTY-NINE

Dear Tannie Maria,
the letter said.

There's a special lady who I met not so long ago. She made me the best roast lamb I've ever eaten. And the best chocolate cake. I am very sorry to say I have not treated her well. When things got close between us I kind of ran away.

I was married to a woman who I loved very much. She died of cancer over four years ago. It was very painful.

When I started caring about another woman, I felt like I was betraying my wife. My wife was also a good cook.

The other problem is that this special lady puts herself in dangerous situations. Again and again. I don't think I could bear it if she also died. I don't know if I could manage going through that kind of pain once more.

So I ran away from the special lady.

But I have been missing her. A lot. I keep imagining I am sitting with her on her stoep, eating her roast lamb.

I stopped reading. I wanted to crumple this letter up and throw it in the rubbish bin. Who did this man think he was, marching off and on a woman's stoep as he felt like it? I drank my last sip of rooibos tea; it was cold and had soggy crumbs in it. Then I made myself carry on reading:

How can I make it right with her?

What I was thinking was this. My uncle Koos has just given me some fresh meat from his sheep farm. In fact, the lamb is still alive. It is right now eating up the geraniums in my backyard.

Do you think it will be a good idea to give this lammetjie to the special lady?

My other problem is, I'm not really sure if this lady likes me as more than a friend. We got close because things threw us together. How do I know if she has that special kind of interest in me?

Yours sincerely,

A man and a lamb

I got up and walked outside.

‘Tannie M?' said Jessie, but I just kept walking.

I leant against a jacaranda tree and looked up at the sky. The sky was too bright, so I looked at the ground. I wanted to write to the man, saying,
You just leave that special lady alone to get on with her life, instead of coming with your on-and-off nonsense and causing her more pain
.

‘What's wrong, Maria?' said Hattie, coming out into the garden, a calculator in her hand.

‘Nothing,' I said.

‘All right, you don't have to talk about it,' she said.

We watched a car driving by. A Combi with writing on the side.

‘Those Adventists are heading up the mountain soon,' she said. ‘The world's ending this Friday. The twenty-first.'

‘The end of the world . . . ' I said. ‘I've been invited to a wedding on that day.'

‘Well, let's hope it ends after your wedding,' she said.

‘How many times can a woman make a fool of herself?' I asked.

‘I beg your pardon?' said Hattie.

I went back inside and sat down at my desk with my pen and a fresh sheet of paper. I was already making a fool of myself by thinking that I might be that special lady. I needed to do my job as the love-advice tannie. I must answer this letter as if I was not involved. Maybe the special lady in this man's story would be very glad to hear from him. And his blerrie sheep.

Dear man and a lamb,
I wrote.

These days a cook does not like to slaughter her own animals. It would be better if you just gave her a leg of lamb. The butcher can do the job for you if you are not the farmer type.

We can be sure that our lives will all end with death. There's not much we can do about that. But you can add love and good food to your life. That is your choice.

I know what you mean about the pain. But love should not live trapped inside your chest. Pain is not a reason to keep love in. You should let it out.

After I wrote this sentence I put down my pen and gave a big sigh. I wondered if I could follow my own advice. Then I read his letter again and carried on my reply:

How do you know if you are more than a friend to her? That is something your heart will have to tell you. But if she gets a bit dressed up before she sees you, and has a glow on her face when she looks at you, then she probably likes you in that special way.

If she did care for you, then you have probably hurt her feelings by running away, and you may have to work quite hard to win her back.

I crossed out
quite
and wrote
very.

You may have to work very hard to win her back.

TM

I folded my arms onto my desk and rested my head on top of them.

CHAPTER NINETY

‘Jislaaik, Tannie Maria. You can cook, hey?' said Jessie, as she helped herself to some more potato salad.

Reghardt nodded his agreement, his mouth full of carrot salad.

‘This three-bean salad is the best, Maria,' said Hattie.

It was Thursday the twentieth of December, and we were sitting on my stoep, the sun low on the hills, having that feast I'd promised to Jessie. In case the world was ending the next day, I wanted to be sure I'd done what I'd said. It was also the thing I'd most like to do if I only had one evening left. Sit on my stoep with the best view, eating good food with my favourite people.

‘That flippin' sexy dress,' Jessie said, ‘is it the one Candy sent?'

‘And those shoes too?' said Hattie. ‘Maria, is that pearl nail-polish on your toes?'

‘Vetkoek?' I said, passing the bowl along the table.

Reghardt helped himself.

‘How'd you get the mince right inside the vetkoek?' he said. ‘I've never had that before.'

‘Some more roast lamb?' I asked Jessie, as I sliced off a tasty crust of meat.

‘Asseblief,' said Jessie, holding her plate out. ‘What is in this gravy of yours?'

‘Pomegranate juice and red wine,' I said, giving her the sliced lamb.

‘It's awesome,' she said, pouring lots of gravy over her food.

‘Goody gumdrops,' said Hattie. ‘Super to have you back on form, Jessie.'

Jessie stroked the gecko tattoo on her arm before she started eating again. It was good to see her strong and happy.

I piled some more lamb onto Piet's plate. He was a small guy, but he could eat a lot of meat.

‘Would you like some more?' I asked Kannemeyer.

‘Please,' he said, and gave me that big white grin.

I told my knees to stay strong, because you shouldn't wobble when you have a big knife in your hand. And anyway, a smile and a leg of lamb don't mean he won't go running off again.