The terrorist attack on the church had brought a huge public outcry and subsequent media frenzy. Jannie’s death coming so soon after the mass violence had, by contrast, caused little public reaction. The official conclusion ascribed to Jannie’s killing was an unfortunate isolated act of robbery and violence. Renata had always felt uncomfortable with the findings because the break-in that was associated with Jannie’s death was unlike the previous break-ins—nothing had been touched and nothing had been stolen. It did not really add up to an isolated act of robbery or incidental violence. However, no matter how hard she pushed the police, they remained unconvinced there was anything else to investigate.
Colleagues from the university and hospital had attended the funeral, with many eulogising about Jannie’s contribution to surgery. The flowers that had arrived at their home were like none that she had seen; large bouquets were left at the front door. Although Jannie’s mother had come to the funeral, she had refused to speak to Renata, presumably on instructions from her husband who, true to his Afrikaner stubbornness, did not attend.
Mike McMahon phoned a few days after Jannie’s funeral and asked whether he could call in and talk to her. Renata was pleased. She always enjoyed talking to Mike and thought she would ask his advice about moving into a more secure house in Bishops Court, not too far from Mike and Sian. Soon after there was a knock at the door, and she walked down the hallway to let Mike in. He gave Renata the customary hug and greeted Lucy as he made his way through to the kitchen. Despite his graciousness, Renata sensed that he was not his normal bubbly self. There was no extra long embrace for Christian or ruffling of his blond curls as he walked past him.
‘
What’s the matter, Mike? Is the transplant programme faltering?’
Mike stared at her a little before replying
. ‘No, that’s going well. Sibokwe is up and moving around, and there has been no acute rejection.’
‘
Well, a cup of tea then?
‘
That would be great. Any Rooibush tea?’
‘
Yes, I can do Rooibos. Please, sit down.’
When she brought the tea through, Christian had surfaced from the playroom and raced towards Mike. He squealed with delight as Mike threw him over his shoulder and twirled him around in a fire-fighter’s grip. That is more like the Mike I know, Renata thought. Maybe everything is OK.
Renata placed the tea on the yellow-wood table away from Christian’s playful hands. As she looked down at him, she felt relieved he had been protected from all the drama that had surrounded his father and his death. She presumed that it must have had some impact, but it appeared to be less than what she could have imagined.
As Mike twirled Christian around
, the squeals became louder. Tipping Christian upside down produced greater peals of laughter, and Mike then tucked him under one arm and headed in the direction of the playroom, calling for Lucy as he went. Before he got to the bedroom door, Christian became quiet, and then pushed back from Mike’s chest, so that he could look him in the eye and said, ‘Does it hurt to die, Uncle Mike?’
Renata looked anxiously at Mike, understanding that Christian was concerned in a child’s way that his father had been in great pain before he died.
‘No, it doesn’t hurt to die, Christian,’ said Mike, hoping that no further explanation would be necessary.
Christian looked at him, and hugged him before asking again
, ‘So, Daddy is in heaven?’ Smiling now, he asked, ‘And we can see him one day?’
‘
One day I’m sure you will,’ said Mike, giving him an extra hug. Renata turned and hurried into the lounge, wiping away the tears that she did not want Christian to see.
Finally, Lucy came down the hallway to take Christian, unaware of the moment that had just preceded her entrance. She grabbed Christian and tickled him while kissing him on the head. Mike released him into her arms, blinking back his own tears.
‘Are you alright, Ren?’ he said when he found Renata in the kitchen dabbing her eyes.
‘
Yes, I’m OK, thanks; I just seem to have these periods of uncontrollable crying.’
‘
Have the nightmares stopped yet?’
‘
I’m not sure; I haven’t dared to stop taking the sleeping tablets.’
They both sat down somewhat awkwardly, and Renata poured the tea
. ‘You have something to tell me, Mike?’
He looked at her, not sure whether it was his male superficiality or Renata’s finely tuned sensitivity. He knew she had a highly developed female intuition that he may previously have underestimated.
‘It’s about Jannie, isn’t it?’ she said as she took her first sip of tea. ‘He was having an affair, wasn’t he? I knew that for almost six months, or at least I suspected as much as we hadn’t slept together for that long. At the funeral his theatre nurse, Nadine, had come up to me and said that he was someone to whom many owed their lives and only a few were privileged to love.’ Renata looked at Mike as she finished her statement, searching for confirmation. Mike held her gaze but remained silent.
‘
It’s alright, Mike. I don’t expect you to slander your dead friend. I assume it was Nadine. I mean, he was always talking about what a wonderful scrub nurse she was, and how difficult it was for a coloured person to make something of themselves. He was certain that she could have done medicine if she’d been white. It was only when I saw her at the funeral, how beautiful and adoring she was, that I realised she was everything Jannie wanted and hadn’t found in me. She was soft, compliant and clearly idolised him. I don’t blame him, Mike, really; it was the Afrikaner part of him that he could never really deny. He wanted the sum of multiples that were incompatible. He wanted not only beauty, adoration and sexual disinhibition, but he also wanted someone who was his intellectual equal, who could challenge him without usurping him. That person also needed to be partly an acquisition that highlighted his success and achievements. I couldn’t be all those things to him.’
‘
Renata,’ Mike said, trying not to look at her weeping green eyes, ‘as far as I know Jannie never had an affair with Nadine.’
She looked at him, searching for any clues in his eyes that he was covering up for his friend
. ‘I’m sorry, Mike, I’m sure it’s the stress of the last few weeks, and I knew that there was something deeply troubling Jannie when he came back from the hospital. Because he didn’t confide in me, I’d assumed it was personal.’
‘
No doubt, he was very fond of Nadine, and because of his work he spent many hours with her. She clearly idolised him. Working with someone who was as powerful and skilful as Jannie can cause that. This wouldn’t be the first time, or the last, for this to happen in an operating theatre. Jannie never discussed it with me, but others amongst us had talked about it. We were sure that if Jannie had encouraged Nadine it may well have happened, but from what we could see he never really did.’
‘
I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I just don’t seem to have the same control I had when Jannie was here. I’m sorry. One thinks strange things at times like these.’
‘
That’s partly what I wanted to talk to you about, Ren. Perhaps it’s time for a new start somewhere away from all of this.’
‘
Yes, I’ve also been considering that.’
‘
Renata, the day that Jannie was shot we were sitting by your pool. We were talking about the transplant programme—how Sibokwe was doing and that sort of thing. It was unusual because Jannie was making small talk, and he never really did that. It was almost as if he had a premonition that something dreadful was going to happen. Then he said he wanted to talk to me about something serious and gave me two envelopes for safekeeping. Because the hospital then paged me about Sibokwe, we never got a chance to talk about what was worrying him. The morning after his death, I remembered the envelope and opened it. It explains partly what he wanted to talk to me about. There was a covering letter to me. I think you should read the covering letter first.
Renata looked at Mike. She saw a deep sadness and wondered what Jannie could have written to have so affected his friend. She took the letter Mike handed her and recognised Jannie’s writing. As she read, she fought the desire to again cry.
Dear Mike,
That you are now reading this means that I am dead. I have been concerned that this could happen for the last few weeks. I have made many mistakes in my life, and you will see by the time you finish this letter that this is the biggest and obviously the most catastrophic. Becoming involved with the Bureau of State Security I will long regret. In my naiveté I thought that my co-operation would secure extra funding for the transplant team and that I could develop the transplant unit into the best in the southern hemisphere. I became concerned about some of the requests that were made that compromised both my personal and medical principles. I would tell you more but that might compromise your safety. It’s important to me that you have some good memories of our friendship. I knew too much, which is why you are now reading this letter.
I am entrusting Renata and Christian’s safety, and future, to you, Michael. After what has happened to me, it is going to be difficult for Renata to make rational decisions. Please tell them in your way that I love them; you were always better at that than me. Tell Renata that I often wished I could have loved her the way she wanted me to. Christian will have no father. If there is anyone I could choose for him to have as a role model, it is you. Look after him, guide him, and help him when the time comes to understand his father. The letter addressed to Christian I ask you to keep somewhere safe until you think he should read it, or when he starts to question his father’s life, as he will. Thank you, my friend, I love you.
On my death, please send the first letter immediately to the Bureau of State Security. I will not tell you its content. Trust me that it will protect Renata, Christian and yourself. Take care, my great friend. I apologise for burdening you with such a responsibility. I trust that one day you might forgive the Afrikaner, not only for destroying his heritage but the heritage of those who could have shared it. Please use your discretion as to when you show this to Christian and the separate letter that I entrust specially to him alone.
Your friend
Jannie
Mike looked at Renata as she finished the letter. She seemed less disturbed than he expected. There was almost a sense of relief.
‘
I thought that Jannie was thinking of leaving us these last six months. All the phone calls that abruptly stopped when I came into the room made me think it was another woman. I realise now that the calls must have been from his contact at BOSS.’
‘
I know you won’t understand this, Ren, but in many ways another woman may have ultimately been easier to deal with than whatever he was involved in.’
Renata sensed Mike’s disapproval of Jannie’s actions. Mike, who had argued passionately with many for compromise, tolerance and understanding, obviously felt betrayed by his friend. Not only did he have to now deal with the betrayal, she thought, but his friend had also charged him with the responsibility of dealing with the consequences of decisions Mike himself would never have countenanced.
‘Mike, you don’t have to worry. I’ll accept the responsibility for Jannie’s actions and the outcomes.’
It was not the reaction Mike had expected. He looked at her, surprised at the resolve that now shaped her face and the greater relief that her husband had not been having an affair, overwhelming any concern that he might have betrayed his own beliefs. Renata
, he could see, now had direction; with grief, there was no fear of betrayal. Mike could only surmise that the thought that had eaten at Renata most was a fear of betrayal. She had loved him even more than he had understood, and he was saddened that Jannie had never realised that. With her concern of infidelity removed, Renata was complete again, in many senses. Her self-esteem was intact, doubts rejected, control regained, and he thought she would have less trouble moving on than most.
‘
Mike.’ Renata’s voice interrupted his thoughts.
‘
Mike,’ she repeated, not sure that she had his attention. ‘I’ll take Christian to Australia. I’ve been thinking about it, as they are advertising for a genetic pathologist and this just confirmed my thinking.’
Mike started to protest but realised that Renata had taken centre stage and in an instant had decided her future. Mike knew it was important for her to be in control again; it was just surprising that Jannie’s letter, far from causing further anguish and dismay, had given her new direction. Jannie would have been surprised and possibly delighted, he thought.
‘Mike, I’ll make all the arrangements in the next couple of weeks, but I no longer want to stay here. Would it be all right if Christian and I move in with you and Sian for that time?’
‘
Sian and I would be delighted. I’m going home for lunch after leaving here and we’ll come back and help you pack.’