into the adjoining room. It was a large and spacious area that
served as dining room and lounge. The dining room table was sturdy and solid; a
dark wood that Lindiwe guessed could have been Imboya. The chairs were of the
same wood – dark and solid with high backs. The living-room furniture also didn’t
resemble anything one would find in a modern lounge. Stolid and Baroque. Heavy
and elaborately carved wooden arm-rests and backs cradled large stiff square
cushions embroidered with intricate Impressionist-like scenes. Against the wall,
the old Pioneer TV was housed in a wooden cabinet with tapered legs. At night
the cabinet’s little doors were closed to minimise the visual impact of the ‘ugly
electronic thing’ on the rest of the room. Several still-life paintings hung on
the wall as well as a round mirror with an ornate oval frame made from
aluminium. At least one of the paintings was an embroidered piece. A very old
electric organ stood in one corner. On the other side of the room the dark red curtains
were heavy and velvety ... and undrawn.
This surprised
Lindiwe. It was one of the first things gogo did in the mornings when
she came downstairs. Now however the room was unusually dark.
Lindiwe once
again called gogo’s name. There was still no answer. Maybe she didn’t
hear Lindiwe. At 84 years the old lady was getting on in years. Sometimes her
hearing just didn’t work that well. Lindiwe climbed the creaky staircase to the
first floor. She walked to the old lady’s bedroom. The door was partly closed.
Lindiwe pushed it open and entered.
‘Gogo?’
Lindiwe
expected to see her tidying up the room or busy in the en suite bathroom.
She wanted to tell her about her strange morning. About the odd experience with
the dogs. But the room was empty. And worst of all – the bed was unmade. This
shocked Lindiwe. In all the time that she had been living here, she had never
seen an unmade bed. It just wasn’t like her gogo .
Lindiwe felt a
growing anxiety gnaw at her insides. Nausea washed over her.
‘Gogo!’
She could hear
the nervousness in her own voice. ‘Gogo!’ Lindiwe ran into the bathroom. There
was no-one there. She ran out the bedroom door and down the hallway. The old
wooden floorboards complained loudly. She threw open door after door and peered
into each of the upstairs rooms. The spare bedroom closest to gogo’s room. Then the one opposite that. Then the last of the bedrooms in the hallway
– the one she used mostly as an extra storage space. And then finally the big
spacious room right at the end of the hallway. It was her music room and
contained the ancient Technics hi-fi system with the antiquarian
turntable that could even play 78’s. This was where Lindiwe most expected to
find the old lady. But like all the other rooms this one was empty.
Then a thought
struck Lindiwe.
Bethlehem .
She walked
back towards the staircase. Her knees felt weak as she moved down the stairs.
Gogo’s best
friend was Miss Lily Smit. An old cantankerous fire-breathing octogenarian who
had once been a nurse just like gogo. They had been friends for almost
twice as many years as Lindiwe was old. Miss Lily was a regular guest in the
house. It was whispered that Miss Lily had poisoned her husband. But gogo said it was just nasty rumours from a community that couldn’t accept that Miss
Lily was twice the man her husband was. It didn’t help that Miss Lily enjoyed
her JackDaniel’s straight up. Or that she once took a lover twenty-five
years her junior. Her impressive command of acerbic swear words in at least
four languages didn’t help much either. At least once a month Miss Lily and gogo would go to Bethlehem to do their monthly shopping. Bethlehem was much bigger
than Bishop and was the nearest thing to a shopping Mecca in the region.
Some said Miss Lily also went there to gamble at the Horseshoe Casino but gogo would never confirm the suspicions. As Lindiwe walked across
the dining room with watery knees
served as dining room and lounge. The dining room table was sturdy and solid; a
dark wood that Lindiwe guessed could have been Imboya. The chairs were of the
same wood – dark and solid with high backs. The living-room furniture also didn’t
resemble anything one would find in a modern lounge. Stolid and Baroque. Heavy
and elaborately carved wooden arm-rests and backs cradled large stiff square
cushions embroidered with intricate Impressionist-like scenes. Against the wall,
the old Pioneer TV was housed in a wooden cabinet with tapered legs. At night
the cabinet’s little doors were closed to minimise the visual impact of the ‘ugly
electronic thing’ on the rest of the room. Several still-life paintings hung on
the wall as well as a round mirror with an ornate oval frame made from
aluminium. At least one of the paintings was an embroidered piece. A very old
electric organ stood in one corner. On the other side of the room the dark red curtains
were heavy and velvety ... and undrawn.
This surprised
Lindiwe. It was one of the first things gogo did in the mornings when
she came downstairs. Now however the room was unusually dark.
Lindiwe once
again called gogo’s name. There was still no answer. Maybe she didn’t
hear Lindiwe. At 84 years the old lady was getting on in years. Sometimes her
hearing just didn’t work that well. Lindiwe climbed the creaky staircase to the
first floor. She walked to the old lady’s bedroom. The door was partly closed.
Lindiwe pushed it open and entered.
‘Gogo?’
Lindiwe
expected to see her tidying up the room or busy in the en suite bathroom.
She wanted to tell her about her strange morning. About the odd experience with
the dogs. But the room was empty. And worst of all – the bed was unmade. This
shocked Lindiwe. In all the time that she had been living here, she had never
seen an unmade bed. It just wasn’t like her gogo .
Lindiwe felt a
growing anxiety gnaw at her insides. Nausea washed over her.
‘Gogo!’
She could hear
the nervousness in her own voice. ‘Gogo!’ Lindiwe ran into the bathroom. There
was no-one there. She ran out the bedroom door and down the hallway. The old
wooden floorboards complained loudly. She threw open door after door and peered
into each of the upstairs rooms. The spare bedroom closest to gogo’s room. Then the one opposite that. Then the last of the bedrooms in the hallway
– the one she used mostly as an extra storage space. And then finally the big
spacious room right at the end of the hallway. It was her music room and
contained the ancient Technics hi-fi system with the antiquarian
turntable that could even play 78’s. This was where Lindiwe most expected to
find the old lady. But like all the other rooms this one was empty.
Then a thought
struck Lindiwe.
Bethlehem .
She walked
back towards the staircase. Her knees felt weak as she moved down the stairs.
Gogo’s best
friend was Miss Lily Smit. An old cantankerous fire-breathing octogenarian who
had once been a nurse just like gogo. They had been friends for almost
twice as many years as Lindiwe was old. Miss Lily was a regular guest in the
house. It was whispered that Miss Lily had poisoned her husband. But gogo said it was just nasty rumours from a community that couldn’t accept that Miss
Lily was twice the man her husband was. It didn’t help that Miss Lily enjoyed
her JackDaniel’s straight up. Or that she once took a lover twenty-five
years her junior. Her impressive command of acerbic swear words in at least
four languages didn’t help much either. At least once a month Miss Lily and gogo would go to Bethlehem to do their monthly shopping. Bethlehem was much bigger
than Bishop and was the nearest thing to a shopping Mecca in the region.
Some said Miss Lily also went there to gamble at the Horseshoe Casino but gogo would never confirm the suspicions. As Lindiwe walked across
the dining room with watery knees
Similar Books
