doesn’t that mean he doesn’t love me? If that happens, I’ll have saved myself from being caught up in a loveless marriage.”
“Ha! Are you serious? What has love got to do with anything?” Nothando continued. “If you wait for that idealistic roses-and-hearts kind of thing, you’ll end up right back where we started. Marriage is not about love – that’s what you do when you’re a teenager and you think you can’t live without the boy who sits behind you in class.”
Lulu sighed, but her sister rambled on. “Well, guess what, honey? You grow up and that boy becomes a thug or he makes your best friend pregnant and you realise you can live without him after all. Then you make a plan to secure your own life with someone steady who’ll provide a good life for you and your children and help you look after your family. You can learn to love a man like that.”
Lulu knew that at this point it was best not to speak. Anything she said would be taken as criticism of the choices Nothando had made. True, many “love” marriages turned out not to be what they had seemed to promise at the beginning, but sometimes, things did work out. Dumisani flashed into her mind at that moment, but Lulu quickly dismissed the thought. How could it ever work?
True, he had a steady job managing a gorgeous boutique hotel in Houghton, but comfortable as his life seemed, he was not as well off as some of the men who had been after her, including Moneybags Molefe. Nothando had engineered the introductions to the latter after meeting him at one of her husband’s company functions. It seemed to Lulu that her sister went to these functions simply to fish for husband candidates for her.
“I know, sis. I should be sensible . . . You were lucky you met Cebo,” Lulu stumbled over the name, as she always did, simply because her sister’s husband was so much older than her that she found it almost disrespectful to call him by his first name. “He’s a good man,” Lulu continued and she really meant it, but good a man as he was, she knew that her sister felt no passion for him and as a result seemed to have lost a great deal of her youth. Nothando felt she had to behave a certain way around Cebo and his friends and colleagues, and it didn’t help that their mother kept a sharp lookout for any sign of what she considered youthful foolishness – something that Lulu was often accused of displaying.
“But guys like Molefe,” Lulu realised she wasn’t even sure of his first name, “are players. Sharks. Okay, so I marry him because he has money and not because I love him. What happens if he goes broke?”
“Don’t be difficult for nothing, Button. Of course you have to make sure you know how he deals with money and what business he’s in. And of course you won’t be so silly as not to put away something for a rainy day. Cebo will help you manage your money.”
Cebo Malope was an economist who had risen from the ranks to end up at the top of the banking industry. Being old school, he liked good things but was not flashy. If for no other reason, Lulu liked him because he seemed to genuinely love her sister and didn’t take exception to their mother’s often unreasonable demands.
Cebo adored his two children, but didn’t spoil them. Lulu often thought that for kids under ten years of age, they were too well behaved, but under Nothando’s strict rules there was no other way to be. Lulu loved being the indulgent aunt, often taking them out on what her mother and Nothando would term frivolous jols around Jozi.
“Don’t rush me, Thando. I know what I’m doing. Goodness knows, you and mama have drilled it into me.”
“Just remember, you’re not getting any younger.”
“I’m only twenty-nine.”
“Well, it’s your funeral if you want to spend your time looking gift horses in the mouth.”
Lulu held back a sigh. She didn’t want to talk about this any more.
Her sister sighed. “I can see you’re getting that stubborn look on your face, so let me get up and go about my business before it’s time to pick up the kids from their karate lesson.”
Lulu wiggled her fingers in goodbye, then proceeded to try and eat her breakfast. She was starving, but her stomach seemed to be tied up in knots. It was very seldom that anything spoilt her appetite. Uh-oh, she thought to herself, this can only mean trouble.
3
Dumisani wasn’t answering his phone. In a way Lulu was relieved. She had not called him on the Saturday after The Event, as it was now referred to by The Coven. Precious, of course, had not been able to keep quiet about it when she returned next door to her housemates.
Lulu had not expected otherwise; she knew Precious was incapable of keeping a secret, no matter how hard she tried. She’d probably only managed to keep mum for a few minutes after she got back and then hadn’t been able to contain herself any more.
After getting back to her flat, tidying up and running a few errands at the local shopping centre, Lulu had finally made it next door in time for sundowners. She was greeted by three openly curious friends. They didn’t even try to act as if they hadn’t heard.
Lulu walked into the spacious double-storey and was handed a glass of sparkling wine and made to sit down on the throne, as the intricately carved, well-cushioned chair was called. It was reserved only for big news, according to Cristobel. And there, in a series of hot flushes and little aftershocks at the memory of the night before, Lulu was made to recount step by step what had happened.
“I knew he had a thing for you!” Gita exclaimed, tossing her long, dark ponytail behind her. Gita was a beauty therapist at a nearby spa and louder than even Precious at her most gregarious. When her husband passed away in a train crash while visiting relatives in southern India, she had decided not to remain in the custody of her in-laws.
“Don’t lie,” Precious reprimanded Gita. “You agreed with me that he was gay.”
“Whaaaat?! I never. You’re the one who said he was gay and I said, never! Didn’t I, Crissie?”
Cristobel stood up to pour more drinks for everyone. “If I recall correctly, I was the one who said never, and I told you guys you were both blind and foolish to even think that.” A former ballerina, she was dainty and moved around as if there was no need to actually step on the ground. She always wore flowing pastel-coloured clothes that, along with her blonde curls, made her look like a fairy queen.
Cristobel was in her early forties, but could well pass for someone in the same age group as Lulu, Precious and Gita. All her friends were much younger than her, probably due to the fact that she didn’t believe in age defining how people should live and what they were expected by society to be and have achieved. Her philosophy was: Live the life you want, and don’t depend on the good opinion of others.
Now, sitting at her desk during her lunch break instead of joining her colleagues as she often did, Lulu sighed. It was exactly a week to the day, and she had long expected Dumisani to have tried to reach her. Initially she had been dreading the call, but she’d also found herself reluctant to leave her phone unattended for a moment.
She jumped every time it rang, with her heart racing into her mouth, only to feel dizzy with relief when it wasn’t Dumisani, and a bit deflated at the same time. After day three of no calls from him, she had begun to question herself and had become convinced that the experience had been terrible for him and that he didn’t know how to deal with it.
“Never! I’m awesome in bed,” she whispered as the thought assailed her again.
“What
