sweet, though.
‘Thanks for breakfast babes. I really needed the Hansa.’ He paused. ‘By the way, where is the boy?’ I told him he was next door, then he winked that knowing, leering, post-drunken wink and said he would break his food fast after he had his soul food – I knew he meant me and I smiled flirtatiously, ‘It can certainly be arranged, my dear husband, as soon as you run an errand to Marita and play your host role perfectly when the gang comes for a braai.’
You would think that would be a passion killer, but for this man anticipation seems to work up his appetite even more and for that I say ‘yeah!’
Mandla had called Vuyo to come along with him. I asked Mandla what they thought of Marita and he said she seemed enthusiastic and appeared as if she would make an alright maid (‘alright’ being the greatest compliment that comes out of Mandla’s mouth, unless he wants something or he is writing a best man’s speech). He and Vuyo did not tell Mike about Marita as we still wanted to surprise Lauren. Apparently Vuyo was drooling – told Mandla that one cannot have chocolate ice-cream every day and in fact, a man’s life called for a bit of vanilla.
The whole gang arrived in the afternoon. The men were busy with their beers and the grill, the kids were paddling in the pool and, while we sipped our wine and made the salad, I was counting the minutes until Lauren and Siz got into a confrontation. I just hoped that Siz would not mention my bloody maid to Lauren during one of her ‘we are better than you’ moments. Fortunately she was not in a baiting mood and it all went rather pleasantly.
It had been a highly laid-back, if momentous, weekend and a great way to begin a new week. One in which I would no doubt have to deal with the psychotic, lazy, ‘I-don’t-know-who-the-fuck-you-were-sleeping-with-to-get-the-post’ deputy I reported to. This guy was the reason why, even when there was little actual work on the office front, I ended up getting home exhausted. I seem to spend most of my time clearing up his mess. I guess that’s why The Woman always says, ‘The best man for the job is a woman.’
5. Madamhood
Chapter 5
Madamhood
The week after the braai was a strenuous one on the work front and I, for one, happily mouthed, ‘thank God it’s Friday’ at five o’clock, and meant every word. My body craved a nice, long, luxurious, bubble-filled, candlelit soak in the bath. Unfortunately, this was not to be. One of the inflexible family rules, as sacred as family dinner three times a week, is that Friday is family fun night where we go bowling, or to the movies or some such ‘bonding’ activity. I suppose, since I insisted on it in the first place, I have to live up to the whole shebang.
On this particular Friday, Mandla was the one who had prepared our schedule so I waited to hear what The Man had in store. Actually, I knew that he had plotted to dump Hintsa at Siz’s house for a sleepover after the family bonding, while the four of us went partying till the break o’ dawn. I knew this because Siz had called me straight after he called her and told me so. ‘But you aren’t supposed to know, so act surprised.’ I could do that.
When I got home, Mandla told me he had bought three tickets for the six-thirty show of Shrek 2. ‘Babes, do you think we can pack an overnight bag for your son?’ There was a twinkle in his eye. ‘He’s going for a sleepover.’
I responded with mock fury, ‘Why the hell should I pack a bag when you decided on a sleepover for him without consulting his mother?’
‘That’s easy enough,’ he responded, patting my bum. ‘You know how you are always nagging that you and I don’t ever do anything together any more? Well, I arranged it with Siz and Vuyo so we can have an Adult Night Out.’
‘That is so sweet, babes!’ If I do say so myself, I think I pulled off a performance worthy of an Oscar because Mandla leant over and kissed me to ‘seal the deal’.
Wearing my little black dress that showed my assets to best advantage, with my smart-looking babydaddy and my son in his BabyGap jeans and sweatshirt compliments of his godmother, we moved on out to the Eastside, better known as Eastgate Mall.
The movie was crap. Right at the end, a few minutes before Shrek and his fellow cast members finished singing the karaoke, Mandla’s son started pulling at his father and whispering none-too-quietly, ‘Daddy, I need to go to the loo . . .’
‘Okay boy, let’s roll,’ his father said, getting up. My guess was that he was equally unimpressed with Shrek 2. But as I was about to get up during the credits, Hintsa ran back. ‘Mommy, can YOU take me to the bathroom?’
I looked at him in the lightening theatre. ‘Hey Papi. But I thought you were going with your father?’
‘He stopped to talk to some lady outside and he’s still talking to her. Please hurry mommy, it’s urgent.’ I grabbed my bag and hurried out, planning to give Mandla a piece of my mind about flirting in the lobby when I was done taking the boy to the bathroom. But I had nothing to be worried about. The woman Mandla was talking to was fatter than me, and not the best-looking chick on the block. I hurried a ‘Hello’ as I rushed Hintsa to the bathroom. Must be some Sowetan nurse from Bara who knew Mandla from his stint there. On my return, she was gone.
We had our dinner like the perfect family that we are, and made tracks to Siz and Vuyo’s home so Mandla and I could have a night out and be the perfect couple that we are.
Upon our arrival, Pertunia took Hintsa off our hands, gave him a bath and tucked him in with the two younger Vuyos. She was really good. Even Vuyo senior, who had initially called her ‘a “Jim comes to Joburg” rural chick who could add no value to the household’ was starting to show begrudging appreciation for her. I could see his eyes light up as she talked to his children – he probably noticed she paid them more attention than his wife did.
As usual, Vuyo and Siz, in their designer wear, made us look like rural relatives. Vuyo was wearing a Hugo Boss suit, with cufflinks that you know he could not afford on his wages. If clothes maketh the man, then Vuyo was definitely The Man! Siz looked like the perfect partner in her brown and orange Chanel just-above-the-knee dress, a cute little orange clutch from the same designer house, and a pair of sling-back shoes that I would sell my husband for. Mandla and I, in my mind the perfect couple, now just looked like a dowdy pair in our ‘special’ Woollies threads. Mandla, perhaps sensing my dwindling confidence, grabbed my ass as we walked into the club and whispered, ‘I don’t care what anyone says, I still think my wife has the best-looking ass in Joburg.’ I knew what he was trying to do. I arched my eyebrows and asked, ‘Only in Joburg?’ Boy, I loved this man.
After our night of debauchery, we were back at Siz’s house around eleven the next morning with killer hangovers. I walked in yelling, ‘VUUUYO! Man, where are you with a Bloody Mary?’ It was Pertunia who answered, ‘He is still sleeping. Maybe you should leave him, but Nosizwe is up and I can tell her you are here.’ Whew, talk of Eve giving orders! And I noticed that she had just referred to Siz by her name and not ‘Auntie Nosizwe’ like she had always done. But, noting that my son was clean and happy I just thanked Pertunia for looking after him. We must have looked like a couple of alcoholics, asking for a hangover cure so early in the day – maybe that’s why Pertunia was a trifle abrupt with me, I thought. Maids are, after all, very protective.
Siz came into the reception room behind Pertunia, picking up a toy that one of the children had left on her ivory carpet. ‘Sis Pertunia, have you cleaned the house today?’ She sounded just like her mother as we followed her into the living room, and her loud voice was playing havoc with my hangover. ‘And look at this. When was the last time you dusted this TV stand? Honestly, I do not know what I pay you for sometimes.’
To which Pertunia responded, in one of those typical sulky-maid voices that sound as though they are talking to themselves but in effect want you to hear, ‘Uyandisokolisa uNosizwe. I can’t do everything at once. I had to wash the children and feed them, and cook and clean. I have a schedule for when I do the dusting in the house but some people, who cannot even cook, want you to do everything.’
Siz, naturally, heard and as she