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
