A Darker Shade of White

The Robertson Valley: (2013 ‒ 2015)

***

Chapter 1

When a deep voice broke the silence like a clap of thunder behind Carina her tall thin body whipped upright. She was busy cleaning the glass showcase in which J'Alpin Winery’s prize-winning wines and medals were displayed.

"Glory Halleluja, ma’ you’s got a pair o’ long legs."

She spun about. There stood a big man, tall and thick-set, with dark sideburns down to his chin.

Wrap dose legs around me an’ I’ll be same side a heavenly cocoon.

Hello Godfrey, Delani said from behind the counter.

Carina gave her a quick glance before swinging back to the man.

"Howzit Tjokkie, thundered the deep voice as he approached the counter, ogling Carina’s legs in passing. An’ who’s de new goosie?"

The blatant sexual goggling made Carina blush and she shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

Godfrey, this is Carina, Delani responded. Carina joined us last week.

Afrikaans is the home language of most of the people in the Robertson Valley, even more so among the farm workers. Called Coloured, often Brown, these people are not black but are in fact nothing more than a darker shade of white, and they have their own dialect. Unlike Godfrey’s brash pronunciation of some Afrikaans words, Delani had a softer accent. Sadly this unique and beautiful dialect of the Western Cape and the Boland region in particular is gradually evanescing, in the main because school children are now taught the correct pronunciation. But also because some of the darker than white people switch to English as they deem this a pejorative manner of speech.

"Glory be, ma’ you’s got a pair o’ legs det go on for eva’, Godfrey said in a tone of voice that tended to signify his approval of the product he was evaluating. Carina felt embarrassingly self-conscious. I would like to chat you up, but see, I’m in a little bit of a hurry ’cos of all de orders, he added still ogling her before he almost reluctantly turned to Delani. What’ve you got for me Tjokkie?"

Plenty of orders. Bring your truck around.

Right. He turned and on the way to the door Carina cringed as with pursed lips he blew a kiss her way. See you next month Sweetie, he said as he exited the door.

Bewildered Carina stared after Delani who with a laugh left by the back door. Warily Carina glanced at the front door again. She shook her head as if to clear it of cobwebs before with a laugh she proceeded to clean the glass of the showcase.

When Delani returned Carina stopped and asked, Who is that character?

Delani laughed. Godfrey works for himself. He has an agreement with some of the smaller liquor outlets and restaurants in the Peninsula to supply them with wines. They place their orders with the different wineries and once a month he will call on these wineries in the Robertson Valley and pick up their orders and drop it off at their places of business. With Christmas less than a week away everybody is short of supplies and he has to pull finger.

Why did he call you Shockie?

Not Shockie, Tjokkie. Tjokkie.

Tjokkie? What does it mean?

It’s actually a compaction for the Afrikaans word for chocolate.

Compaction? I don’t understand?

Because of my light skin tone Godfrey called me white chocolate … hence Tjokkie, Delani replied. Carina smiled. In contrast to her own darker skin tone, Delani’s was so light that she could go through as white. He’s always after me for a bite of my white chocolate, Delani added.

Oh no! Carina cried and the two cried with laughter. So? Have you given him a bite? Carina asked when the two paused to wipe away tears of laughter.

Never! That I reserve for my Cecil. In any case, I may be Tjokkie but you’ve just been christened Sweet Meat.

What do you mean?

Ever hear of nearer the bone?

Carina’s mouth dropped open and for a millisecond she stared at Delani before she made the connection. Oh please! she cried out and they burst out laughing. Is this why he called me Sweetie?

Yes, Delani said. What’s more, your turn will come when he asks you for a piece.

A piece of what?

A piece of sweet meat, naturally.

Carina’s mouth opened and when the penny dropped she doubled over with laughter.

Not the first time I’m called that either.

***

Chapter 2

Boland is a region of the Western Cape located north of a number of magnificent mountain ranges. The biggest town in the Boland is Worcester, give and take 110 kilometres from Cape Town. The town of Robertson is slightly more than 40 kilometres east of Worcester with the Robertson valley nestling between two majestic mountain ranges, the Langeberge (long mountains) to the north and to the south the Riviersonderend Mountains (river without end mountains).

The J’Alpin Winery, aptly named after the French word for mountains, was located at the foot of the Langeberge. Facing route R60, the main route between Worcester and Robertson, the showroom was the original wine cellar on the farm Dassies Hoogte built when the first vineyards were planted. When a cooperative was formed by a number of farmers in the valley to establish the J’Alpin Winery, a new wine cellar was built at the back and the old wine cellar was converted into a showroom.

Typical of most old wine cellars the original wine cellar was an oblong building and had six huge concrete tanks on either side of a wide cement passageway. These tanks were in fact large cubes built with brick that was covered with cement. In those days the fermentation process took place in these tanks, whereas today it takes place in stainless steel tanks. In the front of each tank was a small steel door barely large enough for a man to crawl in that was bolted on. In this door was a tap. From the crusher at the back of the building the pulp went to a press and the pressed-out juice would then be hand-pumped with pipes into a hole in the top of the cube and left for the fermentation process to take place. Thereafter the tap would be opened and the unfortified wine would drain out and run down a cement furrow to an open tub in the ground from where it would be pumped elsewhere for further processing, storage, or removal. To clean these cubes a man would crawl in and more often than not climb out drunk from the fumes. In the rear of the building were the off-loading bay, the grape crusher, and the skin and sediment press, et cetera. In those days there was no cooling process.

To give visitors an idea how wine was made in years gone by, the old cellar was not just converted into a sales showroom but also a museum of sorts. A new front entrance had been erected with a typical Cape Dutch-style gable and a pergola covered with vines, thus giving it a historical touch. Upon entering the building the first three tanks on either side, and the furrow on either side of the pathway, was still in place. The first tank on either side was left untouched. The front of the second tank on either side was taken out so that visitors could see the inside, the size of the cube, with a few patches of crystalized wine still visible. Inside these two cubes was a display of old wine barrels, presses and hand pumps, and other implements used in these wine cellars in the past. The front of the third cube on either side, as well as the wall facing the rear of the building was also taken out. Inside these two opened-up tanks old photographs on the walls with suitable lighting showed visitors grapes being delivered by tractors pulling trailers, grapes being off-loaded by hand with a fork, then being crushed, people working in the cellars, et cetera.

The rest of the tanks on either side beyond that were removed completely to open up a visitor and sales area. Against one wall where there had been tanks there were now display cases where J’Alpin’s prize-winning wines and trophies were on display. This linked up with the opened-up tank on that side. Against the opposite wall was a counter where wine could be tasted, orders placed, and payment made. Further back a railing closed off the huge crusher and old off-loading section so that visitors could see this too. In other words, to reach the showroom visitors walked approximately eight metres down a two-and-a-half metre wide cement walkway with a furrow on either side.

Out the back door at the end of the counter were public toilets, a restroom, offices, and the wine store. Beyond that was the modern cellar that boasted stainless steel tanks, a system to cool the crushed grapes, a research laboratory, et cetera.

Neatly clad in a yellow T-shirt and pale green slacks with a matching pale green waistcoat, Delani Okkers and the newly appointed Carina Hugo were the salesladies for this celebrated winery on the Robertson Wine Route. The J’Alpin emblem, a bottle of wine and a bunch of grapes with the word J’Alpin below it, appeared on the left breast of the waistcoat. Thrown into the deep end just before the Christmas and New Year rush, Carina had replaced Rosina October who left at the end of November when her husband secured a better job in Cape Town.

Carina was trying to finish polishing the glass before the rush on this day started. Human nature is to touch and since tourists always nibble it is logical that their fingers would be sticky. She was almost done when the first customers entered and a smiling Delani stepped forward to welcome the man and woman.

Shortly thereafter the flood gates opened with the first tour operated bus disgorging its passengers who fell over each other’s feet as everyone tried to get in first. Pretty soon Delani and Carina were unable to cope on their own so Dirk Coetzee, J’Alpin’s esteemed winemaker, and his assistant Gerda Olivier came in to give a hand. Later Hilton Baartman, manager on the farm, threw his weight in with Eddie Vaalbooi in the store where orders were made up and delivered via a back door to the large range of vehicles parked out front.

Eventually Willie du Toit, owner of the farm Dassies Hoogte on which the winery was located also came to give a hand, whilst his wife Mavis manned the till. Willie was the main shareholder of the winery and simultaneously also General Manager.

Carina was exhausted by the time she arrived home that evening. It was a long time since she had worked so hard. She took a quick cold shower then fixed up a pasta dish. After eating she climbed into bed. In no time she was out like a light.

***

Chapter 3

Shortly before eight on Friday morning there was a knock on Carina’s door and she went and opened it for Denver. The young man worked for Willie on the farm and it was his responsibility to milk the few cows before daybreak every day, and to look after the chickens and the vegetable garden. He worked for Mavis actually, since the vegetable garden and chickens were her pastime. Every Monday and Friday morning Denver delivered milk to the kitchen door of the main house. Thereafter he called on Carina with a can of milk and she could pour as much milk she needed into a jug to keep in her refrigerator. He would also ask if she needed eggs, butter or vegetables which he delivered the following morning.

She was surprised to hear that he would milk the cows on Christmas and December 26, which was a public holiday. This was the Day of Goodwill, known as Boxing Day in former times.

Cows have to be milked every day, he said.

Don’t you get a day off Denver? she asked.

No.

That is inhuman, she said.

I get extra pay.

Do you save your money?

Madam opened a savings account for me and one of these days I hope to buy myself wheels.

That is good Denver. Thank you for the milk. Tomorrow you can bring me some vegetables and on Monday some eggs and butter.

The main house of Dassies Hoogte stood about four football fields back from route R60 and about the same distance east of the wine cellar. The original workers’ cottages were located behind the main house but after Willie built new houses for them at the foot of the Langeberge he knocked down all the old houses bar two. The vegetable garden was located between these two. Mavis kept her garden tools, fertilizers and insecticides in the one nearest to the farm’s main storage shed.

The second cottage was not directly behind the main house but more to the west and Willie had neatly converted this one-roomed building into a granny flat. The intention had been to let it to tourists, especially visitors that come for special occasions such as the Whacky Wines Weekend that is held in June every year. A compact bathroom was built at the eastern end with a shower, toilet and washbasin and a solar panel on the roof ensured that there was always hot water. The rest of the open plan contained a kitchenette with stove and washbasin and cupboards, a table with two chairs, a bed, chest of drawers, wardrobe, and two easy chairs. In the middle of the room, opposite the front door was a fireplace. It had the minimum requirements but was comfortable. This was Carina’s home.

Friday was even busier than the days before. It was as if people were stocking up for the last big booze-up before the end of the year.

As was tradition, in order for his farm workers to do their Christmas shopping, Willie gave them off at one o’clock on Friday. He also booked a mini-bus taxi to take them to and back to Robertson, the nearest town. Delani, Carina, Hilton and Eddie however did not get off.

Normally they closed one o’clock on a Saturday, but it was nearly two o’clock on this Saturday before the last customer left. Cecil had been waiting for Delani since one o’clock. Both he and Delani stayed in Ashton about 19 kilometres east of Robertson on the way to Montagu. Cecil worked in Worcester but the company that employed him identified with the builders’ holiday and closed their offices for the Christmas season.

Don’t you want to go to Robertson to do some shopping, Delani asked Carina. You can come with us and Cecil can bring you back.

That is very kind of you, Carina said, but I’ve got everything I need, thank you. What Carina did not tell her was that Mavis had been kind enough to get her what she needed.

Well then, I’ll see you on Monday, Delani said.

Delani and Carina were the last to leave the showroom. Eddie waited for Cecil and Delani to depart and then locked the gate that gave access from the R60. A balustrade fence surrounded both winery and showroom. After locking the back door to the offices that were located behind the showroom Carina waited for Eddie at the pedestrian gate at the rear. He locked this gate and while he took a farm road in the direction to the workers’ houses at the foot of the mountain she went the other way, cutting through the vineyards to her house, grateful that this day was over.

***

Chapter 4

As if people had not bought enough the previous week, Monday and Tuesday was worse. On Christmas Eve the last customer only left at six o’clock. Carina was exhausted. She was not used to working so hard.

A merry Christmas to you, Delani said as they embraced.

And for you, Carina said. For you too, she said when Cecil gave her a modest embrace.

Mavis was waiting for her when she got home. Come over at sundown. It is tradition for the workers to come and sing for us.

This was a tradition in the Western Cape where farm workers used to walk from house to house, on farms, and in country towns, singing Christmas carols and be rewarded with gifts. Not unlike Hogmanay, the custom in parts of Scotland where persons go from door to door on New Year’s Eve and in rhymes ask for cakes or money, except in this case it was consecrated. Sadly it is one of those touching traditions that has practically died out.

Carina knew it well but was in two minds whether to go. Would the workers not think it unusual for her to spend the evening with Willie and Mavis, she wondered? There was the likelihood that it could queer her position with the workers. Still it was a chance she would have to take, she decided. So she changed into something more suitable and went and joined Willie and Mavis on the huge front terraced veranda in front of the house. It was cool out there.

Fruit juice? Willie asked.

Thank you, Carina replied.

He poured her an Appletiser, added ice, and gave it to her. Then he refilled Mavis’ glass with white wine. After handing her the glass he poured himself another Klipdrif brandy and added Coke and ice.

This time of the year the sun only sets at eight o’clock in the Cape but it was dusk when they first heard it. At first it seemed as if the rustle of the leaves of the huge oak trees in front of the house were humming a tune until gradually Silent Night, Holy Night became discernible, even before the workers came into view. Minutes later men, women and children came around the corner of the building singing. They were singing it in Afrikaans, Stille Nag, Heilige Nag. Some were carrying lit candles, one man played a guitar, another a banjo, and one a mouth organ. They halted below the veranda and carried on singing.

Few of these Coloured people had seen the inside of a church but they all knew the story of Jesus, in fact they all believed in Jesus, and they knew their carols, in Afrikaans. A pastor came around once a month on a Sunday afternoon to deliver a service and baptise children when necessary. He also held a children’s service. No collection was made, Willie paid him a stipend.

Good evening Sir, Madam, Carina, one of the women said when the singing stopped. May we wish all of you a Merry Christmas, and may the good Lord be with you.

Mavis got up and walked to the edge of the veranda. Good evening Sarah. Good evening to all of you. Thank you Sarah. And we wish all of you a Merry Christmas too.

Sarah turned around and with a wave of her hand started singing and the others joined in – perhaps not in perfect unison, maybe even a little false, but sincere. Mavis sat down again as the group sang carols, many which are not heard any more.

Tears freely flowed down Carina’s cheeks as she watched them.

Another farm, another time.

She was grateful that the veranda light was not on for no one could see her weeping. Among the faces she recognized Denver, Hilton and Eddie.

When the singing stopped both Willie and Mavis got up and they started to dish out parcels wrapped in Christmas decorations. Every person’s name was on a tag on the parcel and it contained a packet of sweets, a toy plus either a shirt and shorts or a dress for each child; a shirt, a pair of socks and either cigarettes or tobacco for each of the men; and for each woman a packet containing underwear and deodorant plus a facecloth and a bar of soap.

After wiping her eyes Carina poured cool drinks into plastic cups and dished this out to the children. With it each child received a piece of fruit cake. Fruit cake may be a Christmas tradition for the white man, but it was not something these children ever received at home. She was aware of Hilton watching her.

Willie then gave every man a glass of wine. Some of the women also preferred wine whereas a few opted for fruit juice.

When the group left the three on the veranda could hear their voices gradually fade away into the night until only the rustle of the leaves were still with them. Increasingly however other night sounds took over. A frog croaking in the pond. The buzz of a mosquito. An owl hooting somewhere. A horse snorting in the paddocks or a pig in the pigsty. A hen clucking. A solitary motor vehicle speeding past on route R60.

***

Chapter 5

Free. Free at last. As free as the guinea fowl that scratch in the vineyards and garden every day. This was how Carina felt on this Christmas morning when she stepped out of her cottage and took in the sun that was fast erasing the shadows blanketing the Riviersonderend Mountains across the valley. She could hear guinea fowl somewhere in the distance as they greeted the morning sun with their joyful calls. Others too welcomed a new day ‒ in the chicken coop behind the main house a cock was crowing, and from the huge oak trees in front of the main house the monotonous call of a turtle dove resounded.

The kitchen window of the main house was visible from Carina’s front door and she could see Mavis moving about. What time were they leaving, she wondered? This was the first year that the family would not get together at Dassies Hoogte for Christmas. Their eldest daughter Amelia married Herman, a farmer in the Koo, a fertile valley behind the Langeberge range, and this was where the family would be getting together this Christmas. It was quite a distance that they had to travel. They would have to drive east through Robertson then turn north and travel through Ashton, the Kogmanskloof Pass and Montagu before they turned west again to head into the Koo Valley. Whereas their approach to the Koo Valley was from the east, the children coming from Cape Town would take the N1 north past Worcester and through De Doorns up the Hex River Pass and turn south-east at the Matroosberg turn-off to enter the Koo Valley from the north-west.

When Mavis told her this last night she said she felt awful to leave Carina on her own. She also offered to bring Carina a plate of food but Carina advised against it. Her position in the showroom notwithstanding, in Carina’s opinion it could put her in an invidious position if Mavis brought her food and not for any other worker.

Carina sauntered around the corner of her house, out of sight of the kitchen. The valley was still shrouded in dark shadows but soon the sun would pour its ambrosia over the green vineyards. Down in the valley the rooftops of vehicles were speeding past on the R60, most of them wanting to reach their destinations early in order to spend this day with their families. Isn’t this what Christmas was about, the gathering of the family and communicativeness?

Only she would be alone. She did not have anyone, no one to share this day with, and no one to connect or communicate with. Still, perhaps this was not quite true. On the other hand, in a sense it was. Being without a telephone or mobile phone no one could call her. Not that anyone would want to call her to pass on their good wishes. Conversely, perhaps her father would, if he could.

A small consolation, yesterday Delani and Cecil, Hilton, Dirk and Gerda, and Willie and Mavis had wished her a blessed Christmas. She badly needed it, a blessed Christmas that is.

I was a servant of sin since I had committed sin, as Christ aptly reminds me in John 8, whereas Psalm 10 emphasises that the wicked boasteth of his heart’s desire, which was what I did. But the Lord freed me: If thou prepare thine heart, and stretch out thine hands toward Him … then shalt thou be steadfast … and shalt not fear because thou shalt forget thy misery … and thou shalt be secure … because there is hope, yea, thou shalt take thy rest in safety … and none shall make thee afraid – Job 11.

The choice to stretch out her hands towards Him had been hers, and now she was free and she could sleep in peace. Peace? This was relative because the Sword of Damocles that someone would recognize her lurked like furuncle at the back of her mind. Sartre likened man’s existence with freedom, which, according to him, was what gave man the right of free choice and intention. However, according to Buddhism suffering was inherent for mankind, only the fourth of the Four Holy Truths showed the way to Nirvana, to be free of desire. This was what she was now, free of the desires and cravings that had afflicted her for so long.

Nevertheless, she was free. Could there be any sensation more glorious than to feel free, especially when you can share it with nature? And that had been her free choice. Free and safe. For the time being, that is.

***

Chapter 6

After taking a cold shower Carina put on the absolute minimum: panties, sleeveless T-shirt and mini denim shorts. She was tall, for a woman, slightly more than one metre eighty-three or six foot in Imperial size, with a slender build and narrow hips. Breasts no larger than two medium-sized mushrooms, or so she’d once been told.

She had no television, only a small radio. In order to have a television she would need a license and that required an ID. This she did not have. So she turned on the radio. It was her one contact with the outside world. She did not have transport so she could not go to church. But being Afrikaans-speaking, every Sunday morning radio RSG, the national Afrikaans radio station brought a church service to all and sundry at home. And on this day, the most holy of days, it did the same.

While waiting for the service to start she enjoyed breakfast, cornflakes with yogurt followed by coffee and toast with marmalade.

The day turned out to be another scorcher in the valley, touching nearly forty degrees Centigrade. She decided to spend the day reading. Fortunately Mavis kept stacks of back issues of magazines on the attic of the main house and Carina had brought down an arm full to read in the evenings. Afrikaans-language magazines included Huisgenoot, Rooi Rose, Sarie, Vrouekeur, Weg, and Landbou Weekblad. English-language magazines were Home and Garden, Elle, Farmer’s Weekly, and Getaway.

The Christmas meal that she prepared for herself consisted of cold chicken with fresh vegetables out of the rich soil on the farm, such as grated carrots and cucumber, lettuce, tomato and cold potato salad.

Towards sundown it cooled down enough so she could go for a run. In a former life she was exceptionally fit and it was her intention to try and achieve that same form again. The programme that she worked out required her to run three mornings a week, Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday, but yesterday had not been not possible.

Taking the gravel road leading west, which was in fact no more than two tracks, she ran hard and was blowing when she reached the end of the road where it stopped short of an adjoining farm. Taking a breather she looked around. North and south the mountain peaks were still brightly lit by the setting sun but here in the valley the shadows were closing in, almost like a blanket being pulled over the vineyards.

Looking north towards the Langeberge she saw a trickle of smoke. That could only come from the farm workers’ cottages, she realized. The workers’ homes also had solar panels but a fire at sunset is a stimulant for socializing. She was curious because she had never been up there, so she ran in that direction. The track she ran on was even less used than the one that ended at the neighbour’s fence.

When she started to hear voices she slowed down and when she spotted figures she suddenly felt self-conscious and stopped. In the two weeks that she had been on the farm she had met no more than a handful of farm workers. Deciding not to go closer she turned east. Now she had to run between the rows of vines. This was awkward because the ground was uneven, having been ploughed to get rid of weeds, and it was dusk.

On the eastern side of the cottages was a hill and Carina was in line with this when a suppressed scream brought her to a sudden halt. Anxiously she peered in the direction of the shrubbery against the slope of the hill. Was it a child that was in trouble, she wondered? She moved inquisitively closer, carefully wending her way between the leaf-green vines and stumbling as she went.

She had a shock when a man suddenly stood up in front of her and with a gasp she ducked down behind the vines. The man took off his shirt and Carina could see his buttocks. Fortunately his back was to her.

Wow! What a sexy butt, the thought flashed through her mind. Just as quickly she bit on her lips because suddenly she wanted to laugh. When the soles of two bare feet appeared on either side of his thighs he dropped down with a grunt behind the bushes. A squeal of ecstasy resounded from the bowels of the earth.

Snorting with laughter and with the sexy buttocks fresh in her mind Carina quickly resumed her jog. Undoubtedly two of the younger farm workers, she mused.

Another farm, another time. It is my senior year at school and almost every day I run long distances on the slopes of a mountain, not unlike this one. On this particular day I am taking a breather when I hear something that sounds like two piglets vying for a sow’s teat. Intrigued by the uncommon sound I creep cautiously closer through dense fynbos shrubbery until I can discern what looks like a bundle on the ground. Puzzled I stop. It takes what feels like an eternity through the foliage to perceive that the bundle is in fact two people. I see a bare bum and of the other one only two knees. It is the funniest sight I’ve ever seen. The bare bum pinches and relaxes as it rocks up and down and suddenly everything becomes clear. Now I feel as if I can die of shame. I want to flee but the sound more than anything else has a hypnotic effect. I’m shocked when the man suddenly makes a gurgling sound. His body gives a few convulsions then lies still. I hold my breath. Is he dead? Has he had a heart attack? The girl’s hand appears and strokes the man’s bum and it slowly dawns on me that he has to be alive. The girl lifts her head and I recognize her as one of my playmates when we were still younger. At the same time the man rolls off, away from me, and I get a glimpse of his penis. I’m stupefied. I hold my breath and remain transfixed. For seconds only before the girl’s body blocks my view. It is the first time that I see a penis this big. It’s flabby and ugly. I don’t know it then but in future I’ll see many more. I don’t know it but this one is circumcised and I’ll see more of those too. The picture of the ugly organ remains fresh in my mind as for days I fruitlessly study all the faces and bodies of the men on the farm to try and determine who the man was that I saw on top of my friend.

Carina laughed excitedly at what her therapist called her post hallucinogen perception disorder. Like the two at the foot of the Langeberge those two had also been farm workers. One thing was for sure, the bum she saw minutes ago was a lighter shade than the first one, and definitely sexier. Her breathing was coming faster and she experienced a tingling sensation all over.

***

Chapter 7

On the day after the Day of Goodwill Carina forgot that Denver was delivering milk with the result when he knocked she was still in her pyjamas, a translucent sleeveless top and mini denim shorts. She quickly put on a gown before she opened the door.

Good morning Denver, did you have a good Christmas? she asked when she opened the door.

Staring at her figure he mumbled, It was okay.

Only when she took the can from him did she realize he was gaping at her breasts. She spun about and hurrying to the table glanced down and smiled. Vitalized by the cool morning air her nipples were conspicuous against the sheer material. She deposited the can on the table, opened the fridge door, took out her jug and filled it with milk. What now, she wondered? Deciding that it was too late to do anything about it she turned around and returned to the door. Heat was slowly crawling up her neck when she handed the can to Denver who was staring shamelessly at her nipples.

The butter and eggs you asked for, he said holding it out.

She took it from him. Thank you Denver, she said. Enjoy the day, she called after him when he turned around and walked away.

When he glanced at her over his shoulder she suddenly recognized him. He was the man with the cute sexy butt. Oh damn, she thought as she stared at his bum, because unlike her flimsy outfit he was wearing overalls and nothing showed.

She smiled as she closed the door. He was fairly good-looking, she mused, and in addition to a sexy butt he had a nice body. Then she wondered who the lucky girl was.

If they were busy the few days before Christmas, the Friday and Saturday after Christmas and the Day of Goodwill seemed worse. Most people took the Friday off making it a long weekend, from Tuesday afternoon until the next Monday morning. Consequently they had many more tourists dropping in. Monday and Tuesday leading up to New Year was just as bad. People were stocking up because the end of the world was nigh, or so it seemed. Everybody climbed in to help: Willie, Mavis, Dirk and Gerda in the showroom, with Hilton and Denver helping Eddie in the store to make up orders.

From December 17, the very first day when Carina started here, she had been on the lookout for anyone she might know but so far she had not recognized anybody. Or rather, she had not seen anybody that she feared may recognize her. Now she was simply too busy to even think about it.

She had never done this type of work before but she was a fast learner and was doing exceptionally well. One example thereof was the couple who came in on Thursday and she had to help them. After tasting a few wines the man ordered two cases of Alpin Reserve ’09. But then his wife threw a spanner into the works.

Is it necessary to buy so much? she grumbled.

But dearest, we don’t come this way every day. When am I going to get another chance to buy this wine? Alpin Reserve ’09 is not available in bottle stores.

One case is ample. I don’t see why you have to buy two cases.

While they were arguing everybody in the showroom watched the two with an amused and condescending smile. When the man turned self-consciously to Carina she decided to come to the rescue.

Taking a long slim bottle out from under the counter she addressed the woman. Forgive me for interrupting, have you tasted this muscatel? It is rather expensive which is why we do not offer it to all and sundry, only to the connoisseur, Carina said as she showed the woman the bottle.

Taken aback the woman looked at Carina and then back to the unusual bottle.

Carina then poured some of the wine into a small glass. It has won a few gold medals. Since South Africa was banned from using the word Sherry for its wines, muscatel has taken its place with many a connoisseur. Would you like to try it? You look like the sort of person who would appreciate it.

The woman gave her husband a dubious look but when Carina pushed the glass towards her she picked it up. While giving her husband another look she took a fleeting taste. Aware that people were watching her she held up the glass like a true connoisseur, studied the colour for a few seconds, and then took another taste. Then she turned to her husband.

Why don’t you taste it?

Carina poured some of the wine into another glass and put it down in front of the man. He hesitated then picked up the glass and tasted the wine.

It’s good, but too sweet for my liking.

I like it, the woman said and promptly took another sip.

It’s a special case of six bottles, Carina said.

How much is it? the woman asked and Carina told her. Very well my dear, the woman said addressing her husband, you may buy your two cases but I want a case of this. With that she emptied the glass.

The man opened his mouth, glanced at Carina who was watching him with a twinkle in her eyes, sighed and said, Very well, we’ll take six bottles of that as well.

Well done, Willie said after the two had departed.

You are a born saleslady, Delani said.

The praise made Carina flush with pleasure.

***

Chapter 8

With Denver helping to make up orders in the wine store, whenever she took orders through Carina spoke to him a few of times.

As he had done the Friday before Christmas, Willie let his farm workers off at twelve o’clock the last Friday of 2013 and the mini-bus taxi with whom he has a contract ferried them to Robertson to do their shopping. But the queue of buyers in the showroom lasted until well after six o’clock that evening and it was long after seven before an exhausted Carina entered her home.

On Saturday the buyers streamed in as if the winery was closing its doors for good. After the last customer left, Eddie waited for Cecil and Delani to depart then locked the front gate. Carina meanwhile locked the showroom and when she exited the back door she was surprised to find Hilton waiting out there.

Shall we go? she asked indicating the pedestrian gate where she usually waited for Eddie.

What are you doing tonight? Hilton asked while they walked to the gate.

I … ah …, she stuttered as she felt the heat in her cheeks increase.

Come an’ join us, he said. "We’re going to have a lekke’ jol."

I’m sorry Hilton, she hastily replied. I’ve got another arrangement.

"Ag ney man, don’t be like det, come’n join us."

Oh Lord give me the strength, she prayed as she took his arm. I would have liked to join you but unfortunately I can’t. I’m sorry.

Okay, he grumbled, but if you do change your mind …?

Thank you for asking Hilton, she said when he turned away. She watched him walk to his old Datsun pick-up that was parked outside the pedestrian gate. He was slightly shorter than she, stout and with a paunch.

Enjoy it, she shouted when he climbed into the pick-up.

He gave her a glare and shut the door.

Waiting for Eddie outside the gate Carina watched Hilton drive off. After Eddie locked the gate she went home, took a cold shower and dressed casually. Then she had some yellow cling peaches and pears. This was her lunch.

Later that afternoon Mavis knocked on her door. You’ve been through the worst, how do you feel? Mavis asked when Carina let her in.

I was clapped. But a cold shower did wonders.

I’m glad. Listen, the family are coming over tomorrow and I want you to join us.

I … do you think it wise?

Why not? Join us for lunch. You don’t have to stay the whole day.

Ugh …?

They might think it strange if you don’t come.

Very well. Thank you.

***

Chapter 9

With New Year on Wednesday the family decided to get together on Sunday before. Carina decided it would be unbecoming of her to turn up at lunch-time and sit down like an invited guest. This was one of a few days in the year when the kitchen help do not come in so she decided to go over and help Mavis in the kitchen before the children and grandchildren arrived.

Today she would face her biggest test, of that she had little doubt. The very first question people usually ask is where do you come from? Delani and the others had been satisfied with a nugatory response but the children would be more challenging. People who visit the showroom are there for the wine and are only vaguely aware of the salesperson, whereas when you mix socially people tend to concentrate more on you as person. The thought frightened her. She would have to count her words.

Her choice of clothes was meagre and she knew it was going to be another scorcher in the valley. After careful consideration she put on a blue short-sleeve T-shirt with a low neckline, jeans and sandals, but no jewellery. Dark brown eyes stared back at her from a narrow face that wore no make-up and no lipstick. You’re not much to look at, she advised the girl in the mirror, but this is how it should be. She pulled her fingers through her hair. It was short and stood straight up, almost like a porcupine under threat of a predator.

While eating cornflakes with yogurt she peered towards the kitchen a few times and when she saw movement she put her things away and hurried over to offer her services to Mavis.

This really isn’t necessary, Mavis said, but your help is welcome. I put a big pot of coffee on the stove because everybody will want coffee when they arrive.

Mavis made coffee in an old-fashioned, traditional way. Freshly ground coffee beans was put inside a special bag suspended inside the large coffee pot. Water was added, and this was then put on the stove and brought to boil. Thereafter it was left to percolate. The aroma of fresh coffee permeated beyond the kitchen.

Most of the food had been prepared beforehand. However, the meat had to be cut and the salads prepared and the two chatted amiably while they were busy doing this.

I don’t like to cut the meat the day before, it dries out and becomes tasteless, Mavis said as she watched Carina slice the leg-of-lamb. Then she laughed. One can see you grew up on a farm.

That was an eternity ago.

It’s like riding a bicycle, once you …! The sound of a vehicle interrupted her story and with a, Forgive me, the excited grandmother rushed from the kitchen.

Smiling to herself Carina put out the mugs and sugar, because Mavis had warned her that the first thing the children expect is coffee. Her smile disappeared when she heard voices entering the house.

A moment later a teenager charged into the kitchen and pulled up short when she saw Carina. She was followed by a woman who looked like a younger version of Mavis, with Mavis hard on her heels. Both women’s arms were laden with parcels and baskets.

Carina this is my eldest daughter Amelia and this is Marlene, Mavis introduced them.

Amelia put her parcels down and taking Carina by surprise gave her a hug. I’m so glad to meet you. My mother told me about this brilliant new saleslady that they appointed who can sell sand to the Arabs. Amid all-round laughter Carina gave Mavis a self-conscious glance. I hope you will be very happy with J’Alpin.

Thank you, Carina responded.

While Amelia and Mavis were busy unpacking a young man entered the kitchen.

This is Willie, Willie Junior, Amelia introduced him. Willie say hello to Carina.

Hi, he responded with a wave of the hand. Grandpa wants to know if the coffee is ready.

Yes, Mavis said and turned to Carina. Carina …?

I’ll take it, Carina responded.

I’ll help you, Marlene said.

Thank you, says Carina. Everything is ready. Will you get the milk out of the fridge and pour it into that jug. Carina hesitated. How many coffees?

Grandpa, grandma, dad, mom, Willie Junior and I, replied Marlene. What about you?

I’ve had mine. That’s six. Carina poured coffee into six mugs.

When the rest come they’ll all want coffee, Marlene said.

How many more?

Uncle Johan and Auntie Belinda, Marlene replied while Carina kept tabs by counting on her fingers, their son Walter, and Auntie Megan and the Englishman.

Carina gave Marlene a puzzled glance. Who is the Englishman?

Auntie Megan’s husband Malcolm. Their children are still small.

That’s another five. Just as well I made enough coffee. Let’s take these out to the veranda. If you will bring the milk and sugar … oh yes, and enough teaspoons.

With Marlene in the lead the two walked through the house out onto the front veranda. Willie and another man jumped up at the same time.

It is okay dad, the man said as he took the tray from Carina.

Thanks Herman, Willie said. Herman meet Carina.

Pleased to meet you, Herman said and Carina nodded self-consciously.

Here comes Uncle Johan now, Willie Jr. said.

Carina recalled Mavis telling her that Johan had a post at Stellenbosch University. I’ll fetch their coffee, she said.

Three, Marlene called after her.

Carina was content to leave the family alone. For the time being she could get away with it, but for how long? All three Mavis’ children were older than she. The youngest, Myna who was married to the Englishman was thirty three, two years older than her. Willie Jr. was the eldest grandchild and he was eighteen, whereas the youngest was Page and she was still a baby. Malcolm and Myna were her parents and they stayed in Durbanville, a suburb of Cape Town. Carina was not certain what Malcolm did for a living.

She carried the coffee out and was introduced to Johan, Belinda and Walter. Uncertain she remained standing as she could not decide whether she should stay or go back to the kitchen.

The Englishman is always late, Marlene told Carina.

Come sit here by me, Amelia said indicating the chair next to her that was occupied by Marlene.

I will …!

Marlene, let Carina sit there, Willie said.

Marlene got up and Carina reluctantly sat down.

Where did you grow up? Amelia asked.

As a number of faces turned to look at her with interest, Carina realized that this was what she had been dreading all along.

***

Chapter 10

I grew up in Bezuidenhoudt Valley. Bez Valley as it is commonly known is a suburb of Johannesburg, Carina replied.

If only that were true.

In the heart of Sodom and Gomorrah, Herman said with a chuckle. Carina gave his face a quick glance but detected no sign of mischief-making. On the contrary he looked amused.

I suppose you can call it that, she said.

Do you know the place? Have you been there? Johan asked.

If I remember rightly it is near Ellis Park or Emirites Park as they now call it. He gave Carina a glance and she nodded. About four years ago a group of Boland supporters took the bus up to watch the rugby test Springboks versus England. What a good tour that was.

One long booze-up, was Amelia’s dry comment.

I did see the rugby, which is more than I can say for some of the other guys.

It took you a week to walk straight again.

There comes the Englishman now, Willie Jr. said. He had been keeping a lookout for them.

I’ll fetch their coffee, Carina said as she quickly jumped up.

She’s tall … for a woman, Carina heard a woman’s voice say when she entered the house. She assumed it was Belinda.

What’s more, she’s pretty too, Herman said.

Carina heard a woman clearing her throat and took it for granted this was Amelia, because it was followed by laughter.

The last two, Carina thought as she took her time to pour their coffee. She waited until the greetings had subsided before she took the coffee out. When she arrived outside Malcolm was dominating the scene from the middle of the veranda whilst Myna was sitting in the chair that she had vacated.

New help ma, Malcolm dryly asked when Carina stopped in front of Myna to offer her a mug.

Blushing Carina gave him a fleeting glance.

Don’t be silly, Myna admonished him. This is Carina. She’s the new saleslady in the showroom. Then she looked up at Carina. Thank you.

Oh yes, Carina. Intently Malcolm looked her up and down when she held the tray out to him. Carefully he studied her face before he took the mug. Have we met?

An ice clamp gripped Carina’s chest as everybody’s attention was suddenly focussed on the two of them. That’s … ugh … how would you say … unlikely. Earlier that morning she had decided not to speak English fluently because from experience she knew nothing gives you away quicker than to be too fluent in a language.

I feel as if I know you, Malcolm persisted, still staring hard at her.

Carina was short of breath and she looked away. Did he recognize her, she wondered anxiously? Oh Lord, please not.

Myna meanwhile was watching her husband.

You meet far too many pretty girls in your job, Herman said.

Malcolm’s gaze did not waver. Part of the job.

One of the benefits, Amelia said.

With Malcolm still staring at her and Myna watching her husband, Carina sensed that there was an undercurrent to these remarks.

I wish I was so lucky, Herman said.

What would you do if you met so many? Amelia asked and Herman laughed.

Is Page sleeping better? Mavis asked, deciding to change the subject.

Yes ma, Myna replied, much better thank you.

A nervous Carina collected the mugs and carried it to the kitchen, grateful to be free of Malcolm’s scrutiny. He knows, she told herself. But will he be able to put it together? She was busy washing up when a small voice spoke behind her. She jumped.

May I have some cold water please?

Carina turned around and laughed with relief. Of course. Taking a glass out of the cupboard she fetched a bottle of cold water from the fridge and poured the glass half full. Is that enough?

Megan took the glass from her. This will be fine, thank you.

Carina watched her while she drank. Your name is Megan, right? Megan nodded. How old are you Megan?

I am seven years old and I will be eight in July, she replied, very prim. She emptied the contents of the glass and handed it back. Thank you. With that she gracefully pitter-pattered out.

Carina kept herself busy in the kitchen until the women joined her. Then they carried all the food to the terraced veranda and laid it out on the long table. When they sat down Carina found herself between Belinda and Marlene. She quickly discovered that Malcolm who was sitting diagonally opposite her was still watching her. Please don’t, she prayed, silently, anxiously?

Your mother told me your husband has something to do with satellites, Carina asked Belinda.

Mm, yes, Belinda replied. He’s an electronics engineer and he worked on the satellite that the Russians launched for us … oh … about a year ago. Do you know anything about electronics?

Who me? Carina laughed. Not a thing. I don’t even own a cell-phone because I wouldn’t know which button to press.

I can do that, thanks to Johan who showed me how.

I’m damned sure I’ve seen you somewhere before, Malcolm suddenly blurted out from across the table. Didn’t you appear in a television show … or in a TV advert?

No, Carina replied in a small voice, and held her breath, silently praying that he would stop.

Pheromone, the chemical substance with interactive functions that is secreted externally by an organism in order to attract members of the same species. Documented studies notwithstanding, my therapist Dr Tania van Eeden told me human sex