Broken (25 page)

The woman
walked to the centre desk and sat down, pointing to the visitor’s
chair in front of it.

“
Please sit
down.” she said and while I made myself comfortable she arranged
some papers on the desk top. She looked at me and
smiled.

“
I’m Misses
Whiteside.” she said. “The man that took my place at the counter is
my husband. We’ve been running this business for just over twenty
five years but, because my eyesight is troubling me, we decided
that we needed someone who can look after the accounts and do the
books for us. As you can see, we don’t use computers but I guess
that sometime we’ll have to start using them. Do you have any
experience with computers? Oh, I am sorry! I haven’t even asked
your name.”

Misses
Whiteside was probably in her early sixties with shortish white
hair and very thick black-rimmed spectacles. She was thin and her
face was deeply wrinkled. Her pale blue eyes were lively and
friendly.

“
My name’s
Cindy Bedford.” I said. “I have a Grade ten basic bookkeeping
diploma and I’ve got a year’s experience dealing with cash, mainly
using computers.”

“
That sounds
like just what we’re looking for.” Misses Whiteside said. “Are you
married?”

“
No.” I
replied.

“
That’s
good.” Misses Whiteside said. “As you can see, we’re a small
business so you’ll be required to help with a few other chores such
as typing a few letters and running errands such as collecting the
post each morning. As you can see this is only our collection and
dispensing depot. The factory where the cleaning and pressing of
the clothes is done is in the industrial area of Steeledale. There,
we have a staff of six workers plus a supervisor. We also have an
industrial laundry there where we wash and iron pillowslips, sheets
and curtains for some of the hotels in Johannesburg. So, one of
your main tasks will be to keep a daily record of the cash that we
take in, place it in the safe each evening and on Friday mornings
total it all, pack it in the correct denominations, make out a bank
deposit slip and give it all to my husband to take to the bank. You
will also have to make a breakdown of the weekly wages for our
staff and give it to my husband on Friday mornings so that he can
deposit the takings and draw the money for the wages at the same
time. He normally takes the money to the bank in an ordinary
plastic shopping bag. Criminals don't expect people to carry money
in plastic shopping bags. They expect them to use briefcases. But
we won’t ask you to take the cash to the bank. It’s too dangerous
for a woman. My husband will do that. Would you be prepared to do
all that?”

“
Yes.” I
said. “What hours would I have to work?”

“
Weekdays
from eight in the morning until five in the afternoon with an
hour’s lunch break from twelve to one and fifteen-minute tea breaks
at ten in the morning and at three in the afternoon.” Misses
Whiteside said. “And, as we deal with the public and Saturdays are
our busiest days, we would want you to work from eight to twelve on
the last Saturday of each month to get the books up to date for the
end of the month. We don’t have a company pension fund but you can
arrange your own through an insurance company.”

I nodded.

“
As far as a
salary is concerned, I’m afraid we can only offer you three
thousand five hundred Rand a month. As I said, we’re a small
company but you’ll find the working conditions here very pleasant.”
Misses Whiteside said.

The salary
was only two thirds of what I had been earning at Checkers and they
had also contributed to my pension fund but I liked Misses
Whiteside and I felt sure that I would be happy working with her
and her husband. Afraid that I might not find a better job, I
decided to accept. If, later, I was unhappy here, I could always
resign. Right now though, the job seemed a blessing.

“
I’m happy
with what you’ve offered me, Misses Whiteside.” I said. “If you’re
satisfied with what I can do, when would you want me to
start?”

“
I’m very
satisfied with what you’ve told me and I think you and I will get
on very well.” Misses Whiteside said with a smile. “We’d like you
to start as soon as possible. Could you start this coming
Monday?”

“
Yes.” I
said.

“Great! Then you’re hired.” my
new boss said.

***

Garth hardly
reacted to the news that I
’d found a job.
I found him sitting at the kitchen table drinking a mug of coffee.
I poured a mug for myself and sat down at the table opposite
him.

“
I got the
job with Ace Dry Cleaners.” I said. “The pay’s quite a lot less
than what I was getting at Checkers but the atmosphere is pleasant
and I think I’ll be happy working with Misses Whiteside, the wife
of the owner. They don’t use computers so I’ll be doing all the
work manually. I’m really quite excited.”

“
That’s
nice.” Garth said, taking a sip of his coffee.

“
What about
you?” I asked. “Have you found anything worth going to an interview
for?”

“
Nothing
yet.” Garth said.

“
What are you
going to do about the next instalment that’s due next week?” I
asked. “Have you thought about going to see Misses Phillips? I’m
sure that she’ll be understanding.”

“
I can’t do
it.” Garth said. “I know that she’ll be angry and possibly cut my
allowance even further.”

“
Would you
like me to speak to her?” I asked. “I think that I can explain what
happened in a way that will get her understanding. And if I can,
you’ll save a lot of money by paying back the loan
quickly.”

“
Not yet.”
Garth said. “I want to see if I can get out of this difficulty on
my own. I got a few ideas that I’m working on but they may take a
little time to implement. Will you be able to contribute to paying
the next instalment if I don’t find a solution in time?”

“
Yes.” I
said. “My cheque from Checkers was just over three thousand Rand
after they’d taken off the two thousand that I’d taken from them.
So, after I’ve paid you my monthly contribution to the household
expenses of eight hundred Rand, I’ll still have enough left to
cover the next instalment.”

“
Okay.” Garth
said. “But we may not need it if I can come up with my own
solution.”

A short while
later Garth left the house, not telling me where he was going or
when he would be back. I poured myself another mug of coffee and
went into the lounge and sat down on the couch. The room was cool
and quiet. I felt pleased and excited that I’d found a job so
quickly but Garth’s apathy continued to worry me. The way he
treated me scared me. Obviously I didn’t mean as much to him as he
meant to me. Every day my love for him grew stronger and I
desperately wanted to help him get out of the trouble that he was
in. But I knew that I could help him if only he would allow me to.
My biggest fear though, was that I would anger him if I tried too
hard to help him and he might tell me to leave. However, I was
determined not to be subservient. I was indebted to Garth for
allowing me to stay with him but it worked both ways. Not only was
I contributing to the household expenses and preparing and cooking
our meals, we were we having enjoyable sex together and a
comfortable companionship.

To justify
his attitude towards me I used the excuse that Garth was under a
great deal of stress. His inability to find a decent job obviously
worried him and the financial difficulty that he'd got himself into
was also taking its toll. But these things were very possibly the
result of him not receiving adequate parental guidance during his
formative years. If only he could find work that he would enjoy. He
had the same educational qualifications as I had so I believed
that, as long as he persevered, he would find something suitable.
In the mean time we could live off my salary and the income that
Garth got from the Child Welfare Department.

My thoughts
turned to my new job and I felt quite excited. I had always enjoyed
working with figures and the fact that I wouldn't have a computer
to help me but would have to do all the work manually would test my
arithmetic and my bookkeeping knowledge. I also looked forward to
working with Misses Whiteside and her husband although I had had
little time to assess him.
Mister
Whiteside appeared to be a quiet man, slow and meticulous in his
movements and his speech but also friendly and understanding. He
was shorter than his wife, quite plump and also wore thick glasses.
He was bald with a roundish face and a small, neat grey
moustache.

I glanced at my watch. It was
time to begin preparing our lunch.

I stood up
and was about to leave the
lounge when I
noticed a small dark blue mark on the white wall just above the
back of the couch. It looked like some kind of smudge. I knelt on
the couch and leant over to see if I could rub the mark off the
wall with my finger. I rubbed the mark gently but it remained
there. I looked at the tip of my finger and saw that some of the
blue had come off onto it. I took out my handkerchief and wiped off
the mark. I frowned and looked down at the floor behind the couch.
I noticed a small book lying there with a piece of dark blue carbon
copy paper lying near it. That explained the blue mark on the wall.
Obviously the book had been thrown against the wall, fallen behind
the couch and been left there. I lent over the back of the couch
and reached down for the book. From the layer of dust on the floor
it was obvious that the domestic worker never cleaned behind the
couch and the book had been lying here for some time.

I picked up
the little book and studied the cover. It was a bank deposit book.
I frowned. It wasn't the same bank as the one that Garth and
I used. I opened the book. Only the first page
had been filled in with a carbon copy to match. I stared at the
name that had been hand written in the space where the depositor's
name was required;
Edward
Eksteen - Bookmaker
. There was also a
serried of eight numbers that I assumed was a bank account number.
I frowned. Who was Edward Eksteen and what was the book doing lying
behind the couch? And why had the page been filled in but the
amount of eight hundred and fifteen Rand not deposited? Where was
the money? And then my whole body went cold. I dropped the book as
if it had burnt my hand. Edward Eksteen was the name of the
bookmaker who had been killed when he was robbed a few months ago.
I looked at the date on the deposit slip; the fifth of November the
previous year. I cast my mind back to when we'd heard the news of
the robbery and killing. As far as I could remember it had been
early in November last year.

Slowly I sat down on the couch.
I shook my head in disbelief. It couldn't be. It wasn't possible.
But the terrible thought that stuck in my head wouldn't go away.
Garth was the person who had robbed and killed Mister Eksteen.
There could be no other explanation for the books presence behind
the couch. Garth was the only person who could have brought it into
the house. I felt sick with despair. "Please God." I prayed.
"Please let this be a dream - a nightmare."

But it wasn't a dream. I stared
down at the book in horror. What should I do with it? I began to
cry softly, something that I hadn't done for a long, long time.
Why? Why did this have to happen? Why did the man that I loved so
much do this?

And as the
tears streamed down my cheeks, the front door opened and Garth
walked into the house.

**
*

"Your Honour." my attorney said,
addressing Judge Bester. "My client is obviously emotionally
distressed. With your permission I would like to interrupt her
testimony and allow her to stand down from the witness stand."

Judge Warren Bester nodded.

CHAPTER 10

"Your
Honour." my attorney, Paul Greave, said, looking up at the judge.
"May
I suggest that my client, Garth
Gilmore, be allowed to continue with his testimony while Miss
Bedford regains her composure?"

"Yes." Judge Bester said. "You
may continue."

I stepped onto the witness stand
and sat down.

***

I walked into the house and
closed the door behind me. I glanced into the lounge and saw Cindy
sitting on the couch. She looked up and I could see that she was
crying. I walked into the room.

"What are you crying about?" I
asked.

Cindy looked
up at me as I approached her, tears running down her cheeks. She
held out her hand and I saw that she was holding a small book. To
my horror I recognised it as Mister Eksteen's bank deposit book! I
wondered where she could have got it. And then I remembered that
I'd thrown it against the wall of the lounge in frustration when I
realised how little money I had stolen from Mister Eksteen and it
had fallen down behind the couch.

"What do you know about this?"
Cindy asked.

I stared at the little book in
her hand as I tried desperately to think of what to say.

"This book belongs to the
bookmaker who was robbed and murdered last November." Cindy said.
"How did it get here?"

I looked at
Cindy, sighed and sat down on the couch next to her. She moved away
from me but remained seated.

"I'm not going to try and lie my
way out of this." I said, staring down at the carpet in front of
me. "I was the person who robbed Mister Eksteen."