The following day was a scorcher and it was Saturday. By seven in the morning the early shoppers were fighting the heat as evidenced by their shimmering brows. Make-up ran, hair grew frizzy and armpits were an embarrassment. Food however was a priority this morning and the aisles were a hive of sweaty activity. Norma, Ryan and Jacques, sitting at Jochen’s Java, were having their first coffees of the morning whilst nursing throbbing heads. Ryan and Jacques were admonishing Norma for the disappearing act she had pulled the night before.
‘Just tell us where you are going’ grouched Ryan
‘And do not drive when you are pissed’ admonished Jacques
This brotherly affection and concern for Norma’s safety stemmed from both of them being secretly in love with the blonde bombshell. Both had been unable to make an impression on her. The reason was their hopeless financial positions they each privately told their over-developed macho egos. Nonetheless, they enjoyed Norma’s company immensely and the three were often seen as good friends teasing and laughing together.
This morning the trio were only able to grimace and wave at the passing parade from behind seriously dark glasses.
Cuan also had on heavy shades as he slowly fumbled his way to the nearest watering hole. He was the most fun-loving of the Rand Baron’s and resembled Dudley Moore from the movie ‘Arthur’.
At parties in the Village he was outrageous, life and soul of the proceedings and was followed by hilarity wherever he went. The discernible difference was that Cuan was far more mischievous and naughty than the fictional young Arthur could ever be.
‘Gooday all’ beamed the affable Cuan ‘Cannot dawdle, must recover, places to go, people to see. Clock you all’ and for the moment he was gone.
‘Swimming not drinking’ demanded the gorgeous Norma and the trio of friends rose painstakingly from their table and headed towards the beach.
Tony slipped silently from his watch at Peter’s Prego and went on his way. He did not like swimming.
Willy was an aging hippy. His long grey stresses and beard made him resemble the singer Willy Nelson and hence earned him his nickname.
Nobody actually remembered his real name but all enjoyed his music.
Willy was humming the latest country and western number to himself as he busily packed his gear into his also aged Kombi. Willy was singer, guitar and keyboard player, road manager, sound engineer and the accountant extraordinaire for his solo act ‘The Ageless Wonder’. So lonely was this job that the minute Willy saw any of his friends, he would blurt out details of all of the defects on the Kombi, the cost of its upkeep, the number of gigs he had recently garnered while giving a detailed account of all the people that had pissed him off in his lonely pursuit.
As a musical act he was superb. He usually began with a slow and quiet set, then stepped it up in the second with a foot-tapping medley of evergreens from the seventies and then finally he relapsed into an orgiastic, gyrating crescendo of wild, unstoppable, soul jerking and eye-glazing numbers of the hard rock genre that added several years to the effervescent Willy’s already long tooth.
Tonight he was playing at his favourite music venue – Larry’s Linguini.
He knew many of the locals who frequented Larry’s and he felt at home there. The managers and owners of Larry’s, Robyn and Daniel, treated him well, bought him drinks and made sure that he had enough post toasties. The invariably inebriated crowd sang and hooted along and, if Willy missed a cord or sang the wrong note, nobody noticed.
As Willy said his ‘good evenings’ through the microphone he noticed that the Ladies Club, Girl’s Club, Witches of Eastwick, Grumpy Old Men and Sports Lovers Clubs, as well as several locals from the Dragon Slayer, Fishing Rod and Lifebuoy Clubs had shuffled in. It was a full house!
Norma did her normal sexy strut and wiggle up and down Ambush Alley at times appearing more undressed than dressed. This caused several older locals to clutch desperately at their heaving chests.
Jacques did a poor imitation of the Comrades runner ‘Loop ‘n Val’ Motshwarteu trying to keep up with Norma and Ryan did a soft shoe shuffle normally reserved for admiring breasts in dim light at close quarters in seedy nightclubs.
Cuan was impressive as he performed a pole dance using his knitted boa-constrictor as a stage-prop and the Colonel showed traces of his misspent London youth by jiving dizzyingly with Rosy.
Kendall oozed sex appeal as she drifted back and forth to some exotic beat in her head and, not to be outdone, the members of the Witches of Eastwick performed a stumbling group hip-hop on the tables.
All the while Willy went to a rock ‘n place in his head which caused his eyes to mist over, grow murky, distant and myopic.
The locals loved letting it all hang out with their fellow locals on these wild and balmy nights.
Tony watched the drunken séance from the seclusion of the next door Tung Thaid restaurant and then seamlessly welded into the dark.
****************
The sun drifted like a red balloon higher into the next day and again it promised to be a scorcher. Gary cleared his foggy head with two Disprins and a gargle of mouthwash.
He was meeting Sally for breakfast and must not be late. He jumped into the safari suit with his name emblazoned above the zebra skin logo, grabbed his keys and slammed out of his tiny flat. Sally was already waiting at a table at Jochen’s Java. She looked radiant. Although no longer a spring chicken, she had maintained a flawless face and slim body which made her the favourite model of several advertising companies. She was typecast by these agencies as the ageless mom, the favourite sister or the pretty wife. She came from upper class breeding in nearby Zululand where her father was a sporting legend and medical guru. She presented a pretty and refined juxtaposition to the noisy, brash and fun-loving Gary.
Gary had been an executive in the insurance industry, had brought up four lovely daughters, had gone through a divorce and now supplemented his retirement funds by using his knowledge of South Africa’s turbulent history and wonderful proliferation of fauna and flora. He was the host and guide to foreign visitors keen to see nearby game reserves, historical sites and local places of cultural interest. And he was pretty good at it.
‘Hey Jacques, come sit’ shouted Gary.
‘Hello guys, what’s up, all good?’ said Jacques choosing not to sit.
‘Yes great. I have a safari this morning to a game reserve and Sally’s got a photo shoot. Will you be in the Village tonight? enquired the bustling
Gary.
‘Sure let’s hook up at Larry’s later’ said Jacques as he departed and left the two lovers to their coffees.
Tony watched the interaction from the nearby Pedro’s Cantina.
*******************
Meanwhile Jacques was on his way on foot to see a mysterious newcomer to the village. He had spoken to her only a few times in the last few weeks but had nevertheless managed to get her to agree to have coffee with him. As Jacques had already been rejected by some of the available talent in the Village, he was keen to keep this latest liaison under wraps. He hastened to a distant coffee shop that the locals seldom frequented.
Jacques was very aware of the disparity in their ages and knew that this could pose a problem down the line. However, this did not seem to bother his stunning girl-next–door coffee guest in agreeing to meet this morning. He, with the festering trepidation of a pimply sixteen year old, pressed cautiously forward to meet with the lovely Linda.
He had learned that she had grown up in a very strict Afrikaans family and was, as a result, courteous, religious, had extremely good manners, was very respectful and was ly oblivious of her astounding good looks.
Her flawless English gave no clue of her Afrikaans ancestry and whilst the flowing blonde hair, cautious white smile and sparkling green eyes had attracted Jacques initially, it was her calm nature, assured manner, cheerful disposition and cute body that he was anxious to explore.
She was waiting.
Jacques’s heart lurched in his aging chest as he croaked ‘morning Linda, good to see you again’.
She rose with that easy and winning smile and gave the trembling Jacques a soft hug.
Jacques would have died a happy man if he passed on at that very moment.
Tony watched from the nearby Pink Prawn restaurant and smiled benignly.
Jacques sipped his coffee while Linda told him how excited she was to be living in Umhlanga. She had graduated from Stellenbosch University and had joined a major bank almost fifteen years before. Since that time she had progressed to a senior post on the marketing side of the bank and when the recent Umhlanga opportunity was advertised, she jumped at it. She was recovering from a break up with her long term boy fiend and needed to get out of Cape Town.
‘Jacques, will you show me some of the sights in Umhlanga. I am so keen to get to know this wonderful place’.
Jacques pushed aside his cup, stood up, held out his hand and said ‘Alright, let’s begin with the name. I’ll show you where the beautiful place got its name’.
Hand in hand they headed towards the beach.
A short distance down the beach, Jacques pointed to a silted lagoon fed by a river that meandered under the road bridge and seemed then to disappear amongst the profusion of reeds further inland. ‘This is the Ohlanga River’ he explained ‘it is the Zulu word for ‘place of the reeds’. The word Umhlanga refers to a colourful and symbolic dance which is performed annually by the region’s Zulu Maidens. This dance is known as the reed dance.
The Ohlanga River forms part of the 26 hectare Umhlanga Lagoon Nature Reserve and includes the coastal dune forest system known as the Hawaan Forest’.
‘Can we actually go into the forest?’ asked Linda excitedly.
‘Sure, keep your eyes peeled for vervet monkeys and I believe there are bushbuck and duiker too but I have never once actually seen them’. The two stooped and bent between the old gnarled trees and low canopies that proliferated on the sandy dunes. They weaved for some time on the man-made foot path between the lush and tangled vegetation. All the while the monotonous roar of the ocean could be heard.
After a short time the two new friends emerged from the damp and dappled tunnel-sauna of colourful sub-tropical jungle into the blazing sunshine and onto a pristine white beach. The constant roar of the azure Indian Ocean crashing against the rocks grew louder and they smelled the saltiness of the spewing white breakers as they surged toward the shore.
‘That was cool’ said Linda flashing that shy smile at Jacques and showing him excited green eyes’.
Jacques could not help himself and he bent slowly and kissed Linda softly on the lips. She did not resist and gently returned the kiss. There was a spark and the two stood mesmerised for an eternity.
Returning from that hypnotic place Jacques tugged Linda’s hand gently and set off up the beach. ‘Let me show you the Lifebuoy Club. We can watch the ocean from the balcony while we have lunch and something cold to drink’.
Tony got to the Club first out of breath and panting. He was pleased for Jacques but could not wait to get his friend to write down all of the morning’s events.
********************
Ryan and Kendall sat chatting at Larry’s Linguini. She looked stunning as usual and Ryan was drooling all over her. Her short mini showed her long, slim, tanned, athletic legs and the halter top left her swimmers shoulders bare. She was the pinnacle of good health and beauty and Ryan was finding it difficult not to stare. Eventually, he dragged on his dark shades which allowed him to admire her amazing arrangement of ‘traits beauteous maximus’ more discretely. It did not, however, stop any of the drooling and he had constantly to dab his wet lips with a serviette.
Ryan was grinning a lot and Kendall was giggling a lot but this liaison was never going to happen. The two had on several occasions in the past attempted to hook up but each time the spark had spluttered, flared but failed to ignite into a fire. So, they were now reduced to mutual admiration, platonic friendship without benefits, a whole bunch of sweaty imaginings and some drooling.
Enter the Dragon, stage left. Ray was a stalwart local in the Village and also had had several attempts at attracting the luscious Kendall. Also to no avail and the two now professed to be just friends with no medical aid and no pension scheme.
The two Alpha males bristled, circled each other, showed the sharpness of their teeth and then obediently sat down opposite Kendall. She should have been a lion tamer.
Ray was showing the afternoon effects of an old brown sherry and biscuit breakfast and smiled inanely even at the sad stories. He complained his usual complaint which was ‘Jeez, I’m pissed’ as if he was an innocent by-stander at this unhappy event. ‘Waiter, please bring me a white wine and ice. Is anyone else having?’ he asked the two heads opposite him that were shaking vigorously from side to side.
‘Ok, be like that, see if I care’
The injection of white wine ignited his usual chat-up-the-bird routine.
‘So, my darling Kendall’ said Ray ‘when are we doing that nude swimming thing again? I have been practising, you know. I suppose marriage is out of the question. Why don’t we just have kids like everyone else? Is it my breath? I’ll change for you, I promise’ he slurred endlessly along.
Finally ‘Oh well, I will just have to die unhappy’.
‘N’importe quoi’ giggled Kendall because she had heard it all before.
Ray was quite a successful businessman and he owned property in the village, drove a fancy car and had a string of girlfriends whose actual names he battled to remember in the morning. He slept far too much, golfed badly and regularly, lunched for far too long, attended sundowners that lasted all night but somehow he still managed to earn a very good living.
He had once tried to live in the same digs as Ryan and Jacques but that just ended up in tussles as to whose girlfriend actually was interested in whom.
So Ray had moved on.
Just then the Rand Baron Cuan strode up Ambush Alley and, seeing many of the Village locals huddled protectively over their sundowners, did a military eyes right and right wheel into Larry’s Linguini. His habit was to kiss all of the ladies first and this took ages.
When he finally arrived at Kendall’s table he grinned ‘Saved the best for last’. Then straightening his non-existent tie, slicking his unruly mop and his eyebrows and practising a few messy French kisses, he hoarily went after Kendall. Giggling she covered her beautiful face with her long black hair and attempted to climb under the table.
‘Stranded yet again at the altar, boys’ complained Cuan as the entertainment for the afternoon drew polite applause and the curtain came down for intermission.
Right hands shot into the air from several different parts of the restaurant and, from this practised gathering, emanated a deafening choral chant.
‘Waiter, another round, pleeease!!!’.
‘Good news is just to hand’ chirped Cuan. Mother Hen has informed me that drinks are the order of the day at our home pub on the twenty third, at six. I’m in charge of invitations’. Mother Hen was Cuan’s long suffering better half who, whilst putting up with his spirited antics, had built up a fine reputation as a community spirited individual in the Village. She was liked, kind, caring and smart. The fact that she was also beautiful and sexy rounded off a woman to be taken seriously.