get. She worked for Pamela’s family. When I spent time in Durban with my dad, I’d often go there for the day with her. Pammie was older than me, and she was as bossy as anything. A real prima donna. ‘Don’t touch this.’ ‘Don’t go into that room.’ ‘Have you washed your hands?’ She made my life an absolute misery when I was small.”
Small? Jade had difficulty with the concept that David had ever been small.
“Was her family rich?” Jade asked.
“Not particularly,” David replied. “But Pammie always had an eye for the money. It might be cruel to call her a gold-digger, but she liked the good things in life. She hooked up and broke up with a series of boyfriends with increasingly fancy cars. She always did the hooking—’scuse the pun—and always did the breaking up, too. She left home and started working when she was about twenty. By then, her hair was already a different colour. Pumpkin, I think.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t called Pumpkin on the box,” Jade said. “Not appealing enough.”
David snorted. “Trust me, nor was Pamela’s hair.”
“What work did she do?”
“Oh,” David said, “I thought she would have told you that. Or perhaps not, come to think of it. She was a stripper.”
“A stripper?” Jade echoed. Her own eyebrows shot skyward as she tried to imagine the refined, blonde-haired woman with her legs wrapped around a metal pole, tossing her g-string to a baying crowd of men. “ Pamela ?”
“Started out that way. Ended up doing a lot more than that.” David sounded serious. “I was way too young to know all the facts at the time, but when she stopped dancing, she went into business with one of her ex-boyfriends. Got involved in organising parties for men, private bashes where the women provided the entertainment. The girls were expected to be … well … extremely ‘accommodating’.”
Jade shook her head. “I can’t believe it.”
“Eventually the parties got a bit too wild. There were a couple of accusations of rape. Pammie closed up shop and went overseas. I heard from somebody that she’d got married and completely reinvented herself, but I didn’t see her again until she recognised me the other day in Lonehill’s Woolworths. Talk about a blast from the past. By the time she’d finished grilling me on my life history since we last met, I was wishing I’d decided to shop at Pick ’n’ Pay.”
Jade smiled.
“Anyway … ” David said. He didn’t complete the sentence. Perhaps he felt he’d said enough about Pamela. Or said enough to Jade. This was the longest conversation they’d had for a while. The longest they’d had since the one that had caused all the trouble.
Jade took a mouthful of her coffee, noticing that it tasted suddenly bitter, in spite of the two heaped spoons of sugar she’d added.
“What’s in that box?” she asked, changing the subject.
“Oh, the box.” David glanced at it as if he’d never seen it before. “I found it yesterday, in my house in Turffontein, when I was looking for Kevin’s cricket bat. It’s been in the back of the cupboard in the spare room for so long, I’d forgotten all about it. I should’ve given it to you when you came back to South Africa.” He patted its top. “After your dad died, I sorted out his house, you know.”
“Oh.” Jade felt her face grow hot.
After she’d murdered her father’s killer, Jade had fled the country and hadn’t returned for ten years. Sorting out her dad’s house before she left? She hadn’t even thought about doing that. All she knew was that it had been sold in her absence and, in accordance with her father’s will, the modest proceeds deposited into her bank account.
“There wasn’t a lot of personal stuff worth keeping,” David continued. “But what there was I put in here. I thought if you ever came back, you’d like to have it. If not—well, I didn’t want to throw it away. There’s things in here that I know have sentimental
Small? Jade had difficulty with the concept that David had ever been small.
“Was her family rich?” Jade asked.
“Not particularly,” David replied. “But Pammie always had an eye for the money. It might be cruel to call her a gold-digger, but she liked the good things in life. She hooked up and broke up with a series of boyfriends with increasingly fancy cars. She always did the hooking—’scuse the pun—and always did the breaking up, too. She left home and started working when she was about twenty. By then, her hair was already a different colour. Pumpkin, I think.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t called Pumpkin on the box,” Jade said. “Not appealing enough.”
David snorted. “Trust me, nor was Pamela’s hair.”
“What work did she do?”
“Oh,” David said, “I thought she would have told you that. Or perhaps not, come to think of it. She was a stripper.”
“A stripper?” Jade echoed. Her own eyebrows shot skyward as she tried to imagine the refined, blonde-haired woman with her legs wrapped around a metal pole, tossing her g-string to a baying crowd of men. “ Pamela ?”
“Started out that way. Ended up doing a lot more than that.” David sounded serious. “I was way too young to know all the facts at the time, but when she stopped dancing, she went into business with one of her ex-boyfriends. Got involved in organising parties for men, private bashes where the women provided the entertainment. The girls were expected to be … well … extremely ‘accommodating’.”
Jade shook her head. “I can’t believe it.”
“Eventually the parties got a bit too wild. There were a couple of accusations of rape. Pammie closed up shop and went overseas. I heard from somebody that she’d got married and completely reinvented herself, but I didn’t see her again until she recognised me the other day in Lonehill’s Woolworths. Talk about a blast from the past. By the time she’d finished grilling me on my life history since we last met, I was wishing I’d decided to shop at Pick ’n’ Pay.”
Jade smiled.
“Anyway … ” David said. He didn’t complete the sentence. Perhaps he felt he’d said enough about Pamela. Or said enough to Jade. This was the longest conversation they’d had for a while. The longest they’d had since the one that had caused all the trouble.
Jade took a mouthful of her coffee, noticing that it tasted suddenly bitter, in spite of the two heaped spoons of sugar she’d added.
“What’s in that box?” she asked, changing the subject.
“Oh, the box.” David glanced at it as if he’d never seen it before. “I found it yesterday, in my house in Turffontein, when I was looking for Kevin’s cricket bat. It’s been in the back of the cupboard in the spare room for so long, I’d forgotten all about it. I should’ve given it to you when you came back to South Africa.” He patted its top. “After your dad died, I sorted out his house, you know.”
“Oh.” Jade felt her face grow hot.
After she’d murdered her father’s killer, Jade had fled the country and hadn’t returned for ten years. Sorting out her dad’s house before she left? She hadn’t even thought about doing that. All she knew was that it had been sold in her absence and, in accordance with her father’s will, the modest proceeds deposited into her bank account.
“There wasn’t a lot of personal stuff worth keeping,” David continued. “But what there was I put in here. I thought if you ever came back, you’d like to have it. If not—well, I didn’t want to throw it away. There’s things in here that I know have sentimental