Clare Houston
AN UNQUIET PLACE
For the real author, the miracle maker, the only one who can bring something out of nothing. That is what he has done with me.
CHAPTER ONE
High on the plateau, evening crept across the sky. Swallows pitched and swung through the air, and a small breeze lifted the grasses, sending a ripple across the surface of the reservoir. The breeze shivered through the grey leaves of the old gums, and gently picked up the skirts of a woman carrying buckets across the flat ground. A fabric kappie hid her hair, its floppy brim obscuring her face. Her tattered skirts brushed the tops of buttoned boots, their soles gaping with each step. The tin buckets were heavy. The handles cut into her blistered hands, causing her to wince as she walked, her bony shoulders taking the strain.
On the slope below the plateau, Alistair’s herd of blesbok looked up from their grazing and the male snorted a warning. The woman placed her buckets on the ground, side by side. Bending low, as if ducking through a low door, she disappeared.
CHAPTER TWO
‘What do you want, Hannah? It’s nearly midnight.’
‘I need the paperwork for my car. You still have it.’
‘So? I can carry on licensing it for you. My secretary does it.’
‘No, I want to do it.’
‘Why? You’re useless at admin.’
‘Todd, it’s my car. I’m leaving Cape Town and I don’t want you to be involved any more.’
‘Jeez, Hannah, I was trying to be helpful. Fine. I’ll get Monique to run it over in the morning.’
‘No. I don’t want to see her. I’ll give you my new address.’
‘What new address? Where are you going?’
‘I’m moving to Leliehoek in the Free State.’
‘Where?’ She could hear his frustrated sigh. ‘Grow up, Hannah. Don’t sulk because Monique and I are now together. You left me, remember?’
‘Believe it or not, this isn’t about you. I’ve got a new job.’ His silence stretched for a moment before she filled it. ‘It’s in a bookstore. I need a break from… everything.’
‘I suppose you’re going to dump Patches on me before you go to Plaas Jaaphoek or wherever it is.’
‘No, Todd. She’s my cat. She and I are both going to have a new start.’
‘Seriously, Hannah. You’re really moving to the bundu? You? I don’t buy it. You’re just doing what you always do. Giving up and running away. I won’t hold my breath – you’ll be back.’
‘You’re such a bastard.’
‘Say what you like, Hannah. I know you. You won’t stick at this. You never engage. Never persist. You’ll bail at the first hurdle.’
‘Oh, piss off, Todd, and leave me alone!’
‘You called me.’
Hannah swiped the call to an end, furious with herself. Why hadn’t she emailed him rather? Kept it impersonal.
Rocking back in her chair, she stared at the old-fashioned ceiling of her room. She had grown up in the ramshackle Victorian house in Kenilworth, just above the railway line. Her parents lectured in the anthropology and classics departments at the university, treating the house much as they did Hannah. Spurts of attention every now and then, usually when something went wrong. Cupboard doors were replaced one by one as they came off their hinges, and flooring was replaced room by room as needed, the result a hodgepodge of styles and colour which Maud and Stephen Harrison rather liked.
Piles of books inhabited every room, stashed behind couches or teetering on small tables. Hannah found the clutter overwhelming. When she had left Todd, she had walked away from rails of dressy outfits and work suits. An enormous shoe rack left untouched, except for her running shoes and a pair of blue plastic flip-flops. She didn’t know or care what Todd had done with all her stuff. She guessed the housekeeper had bundled it into black bags and had it delivered to the nearest SPCA shop. Monique would balk at even handling second-hand clothes, let alone wearing them. Hannah had seen a few pictures of them in the Sunday newspapers, usually on the society pages, and couldn’t help a small, malicious smile at the printing which had distorted their features so their eyes hovered to the left of their faces.
She didn’t miss that life for a second, and just felt enormous relief that she no longer had to force herself into the ghastly miasma of false faces and breathless small talk. She had gone along with the bulldozing flow of Todd’s charisma from the moment they had met on Jammie steps all those years ago. A break between under-grad lectures, a patch of sun on an otherwise chilly Cape autumn day, and an introduction by someone in her English class were all it took to put her on a fast-moving track that had pulled Hannah along for so many years. The biggest betrayal was that their relationship had been instigated and driven by him, and then he had dropped her. Like a pair of old shoes. Shaped and moulded to fit his feet and then binned when he’d decided they were no longer useful. It bit her still.
Hannah had sworn she would take control of her life at last. That said, she had moved back in with her parents, registered for a PhD, and struggled every moment to wade through something she wasn’t interested in. Coming back home after leaving Todd was like immersing herself in a familiar, suffocating pool.
Her room hadn’t changed at all since school. Her blazer still hung in the cupboard and seeing it today, as she emptied her few clothes into a suitcase, brought a mix of fondness and leaking sadness at the memory of her young self. Boldly pretty and so confident she would make a success of her future. Honours braids and badges had set her up believing that the world was completely hers for the taking; that a career and a man and a family would fall into place as if owed to her. Now, at thirty, all she had to her name was a half-finished thesis that not even she wanted to read.
Hannah climbed into her childhood bed and pulled the quilt up to her ear. She closed her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest and curling up like a child. Her back was to the desk lamp, which cast a soft yellow glow across the room. It didn’t matter how many years passed. The dark still frightened her. Sometimes she wondered if she hadn’t stayed with Todd just so she wouldn’t be alone at night.
The shrill alarm came far too quickly. Hannah stumbled from her bed. She pulled on her jeans, T-shirt, and a fleecy top, twisting her hair into a ponytail. Padding in her socked feet down the old staircase, she sat on the bottom step and pulled on her running shoes. Patchy followed her into the kitchen and Hannah quickly grabbed her, pushing her into the cat box. Patchy’s indignant expression made Hannah smile. ‘Patchy, you and I are going on an adventure.’ On the kitchen table was a bowl with ProNutro already poured, the sugar bowl set alongside it. Hannah peeped into an ice-cream tub next to her place and grinned at the neatly wrapped sandwiches and chocolate brownie that were packed inside. A thermos stood alongside the tub, and Hannah knew that inside would be sweet milky coffee. Nellie’s thoughtfulness brought a lump to Hannah’s throat. Nellie had worked for the Harrisons for as long as Hannah could remember. A solid presence at Hannah’s back, rather like that feeling when she woke in the night and lay facing the shadows in the room, but knowing that the wall was behind her – no attack could come from there.
She gulped down her breakfast, picked up Patchy, and let herself out, pulling the door and hearing the Yale lock click into place. It seemed to signal a life closing behind her and, as she reversed her Mazda pickup out of the garage, she felt like she was heading into no man’s land. One door closed, and nothing yet open before her.