Alistair kept to the background of the family chatter, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, listening and smiling at the bubbling interactions of Gen and his mother, but looking at the ground as he did so. He glanced up as his mother spoke. ‘Hannah, we always hold a picnic braai down at the river on Boxing Day,’ said Sarah. ‘We would love you and Joseph to come.’
‘That sounds wonderful,’ said Hannah, thinking of the alternative of sitting at home with Joseph and her laptop.
‘Good. Come at twelve o’clock.’
‘Can I bring something?’
‘Heavens, no,’ said Gen rolling her eyes. ‘The ladies of the district will bring every possible version of three-bean salad.’
Suzanne laughed. ‘And the men bring enough meat to put the whole district into cardiac arrest.’
Sarah patted Hannah’s arm. ‘Ignore them. It’s a fun day, and it would be good to have you there.’
Neil, his arm still around Hannah’s shoulders, gave her a squeeze. ‘You’re part of Leliehoek now, whether you like three-bean salad or not.’
She smiled up at him. ‘Good thing I do, then.’
The rest of Christmas Day continued in a similar vein. Lunch with Kathryn’s family was noisy, chaotic, and morphed from the afternoon into the early evening. Everyone was in and out of the enormous old-fashioned pool behind Kathryn’s house. Wet footprints sizzled on hot paving, and damp swimming costumes left dark patches on the ancient canvas folding chairs. They sipped pretty coloured cordials with ice and fresh mint leaves crushed into the glasses, holding their hands over the tops to keep the bees out. The day smelt of zinc sun cream and honey-glazed gammon. By the time Joseph and Hannah drove home, they felt like they would never need to eat again.
When they pulled up outside Hannah’s gate, Joseph hauled himself out of the car and said, ‘There’s certainly something to be said for spending Christmas with Christians.’
Hannah pulled her bag onto her shoulder. ‘It’s not much fun being an atheist, is it?’
Joseph laughed, walking up the path to the house. ‘Tell that to Mum and Dad.’
‘Oh, Joseph.’ Hannah’s voice shifted to imitate the clipped tone of her mother. ‘Can’t you see that the meta-discourse of religion is tied to the insecurity of self?’ Joseph snorted and shook his head.
‘Maybe we should phone them, today of all days,’ said Hannah, feeling a nudge of guilt at mocking them.
‘Go right ahead. I would rather the day not end with Mum’s hounding me about getting back to work and some professor of anthropology she wants to set me up with.’
‘Come on, Josey, sounds perfect for you.’
‘Been there,’ he said callously. ‘What did you say the other day? Glamourous, sophisticated, ambitious, but this time, amazingly, unattached. She is perfect for me. But my tastes seem to have changed.’
Hannah thumped him on the arm. ‘Recently changed? Like, this week changed? Remember our deal, Joseph Harrison, especially as we’ll see Suzanne tomorrow.’
He grinned at her as he rubbed his arm and wandered off to shower.
When they arrived at Goshen the next day, they followed a line of cars making their way to park in a field next to the river. Trestle tables, covered in white cloths, had been set out in the shade of willow and poplar trees that grew along the banks. Already, bowls of salad and loaves of homemade bread were accumulating on the tables. People were sinking bottles of wine and cans of beer into zinc tubs filled with ice. The fires sparked and crackled in rustic half drums. Groups of men gathered around the braais, cold beers grasped in large calloused hands. Joseph made his way over and Neil introduced him around. Hannah, watching her brother relax in the company of these men, shook her head. He looked like he had been born in the district, already laughing at the jokes and throwing in his own stories.
She saw Kathryn and Douglas arrive. One of the twins was riding on Douglas’s shoulders, the other holding Kathryn’s hand. They looked like a family. Hannah wondered how long it would take Kathryn to relent. She moved over to them as Kathryn began to unpack a basket onto a dessert table. ‘How come you were allowed to bring something? Sarah wouldn’t let me.’
‘She said no to me too,’ said Kathryn with a grin. Out of the basket came two pecan nut pies and a tray of mince pies, the pastry lids decorated with delicate pastry snowflakes and dusted with sugar. Hannah reached for one and had her hand sharply smacked. Kathryn threw a light gauze net over the desserts and turned to Douglas. ‘How about you bring Hannah and me a drink?’ He bowed low in mock subservience, and left laughing as Kathryn lightly kicked him on the backside.
They found themselves two striped deck chairs in the shade and collapsed into them. Douglas returned shortly and delivered chilled bottles of cider before ambling over to the braais to join the men. Before long, Suzanne and Gen had joined the women, stretching out on picnic rugs laid on the grass. Gen’s fiancé, Glen, had arrived that morning from Johannesburg. He settled himself on the rug with the girls and fished out his phone, madly tapping away at it while the conversation drifted around him. He was a good-looking man with designer stubble and gym-toned arms reaching out of a tight white T-shirt. Skinny orange trousers were rolled up at the ankles, revealing white sneakers without socks. Hannah couldn’t help wondering how this city man would fit in with the Barlows. She couldn’t imagine Neil or Alistair shunning him, but did they have anything in common?
Resting her head back into the canvas, she listened to the ‘poor father’ call of the ring-necked doves. At the braais, Alistair was heaving metal grids onto the drums and giving them a good scour with a wire brush. He stood back and brushed his hair out of his eyes, leaving a black smear on his skin. She smiled and he glanced over at her, as if aware of her gaze, his mouth curving tentatively in response. He lifted a hand in a small wave and she felt her stomach turn over, but with what emotion she wasn’t sure. She needed to apologise to him. Kathryn was right. It had taken a great deal of courage for him to reach out again after all he’d been through. Maybe a bit of light romance was what they both needed to get back on their feet. Maybe then she could return to Cape Town with the confidence to start her own life there.
A movement caught her eye and she turned her head to see a large BMW park at the edge of the picnic. Karl de Jager stepped out of the driver’s door and moved around to open the door for his wife. Hannah sucked in her breath when she saw Esme, in high-heeled sandals, pick her way over to the tables and deposit a small foil-covered plate on the table. Her white shorts rode high on her thighs, revealing shapely but overly tanned legs. A tight red vest exposed a bony chest and brown, stringy arms. Hannah felt sorry for her, a woman trying so hard to hold on to her past, yet so brittle, as if she could fracture at any moment.
She watched Esme perch on the edge of a chair and try to follow the older women’s conversation. Karl hovered over her for a while, and then moved over to the braais, where he was handed a beer and a pair of braai tongs. He was soon fully immersed in the group.
‘Poor woman…’ Kathryn was also watching Esme fluff her peroxided fringe with her fingers and then pull a lipstick from her bag, turning her lips a stark red.
‘How can Sarah and Neil still include her in days like this after what she did to Alistair?’ said Hannah.
Kathryn sighed. ‘Karl is from one of the longest-standing farming families still on their farm. They’ve been on Silwerfontein for over a hundred years or something like that. The community love him.’
Hannah looked again at Esme. ‘She doesn’t fit in, does she?’