Recipes for Love and Murder. Sally Andrew

paces from the door, the gun at her side. I thought I saw the curtains twitch slightly, but I had water in my eyes and couldn’t be sure.

      Anna ran and kicked her big boot smack into the door. I heard a crunch as the lock splintered; it fell open and she flew in.

      Then the shooting began. It was loud. So loud.

      Then it was quiet. Very quiet.

      The silence was broken by sirens. Getting closer. They were here at last. But it was all over now. Dirk came staggering out of the room, his face and sideburns all bloody, his arms bleeding. There was blood on his hands, dripping off his fingertips. I watched him stumbling towards the pool. He couldn’t see.

      I should’ve called out, to stop him. But I didn’t.

      He fell in. I could’ve jumped in to try and rescue him. But I didn’t.

      Jessie and I rushed to the room. Anna was sprawled across the floor. Her jeans darker than they should be and her white shirt blotched a bright tomato red.

      ‘No,’ I said. ‘Anna . . . ’

      I tried to go to her, but big hands were pulling me back, out of the way. Men in uniforms were everywhere. Then I was sitting. On a chair, outside, I think. Anna. I wondered if she was where she wanted to be now. Together with her Love. United with Martine.

      People, people were swarming all over.

      But I felt so alone.

      CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

      ‘Are they all gone, Tannie? My ma said it was firecrackers but Pa said it was shooting.’

      I am not sure how long I had been sitting there in my own world, before this little voice pulled me back. My blue dress had dried, sticking to my skin.

      ‘And then I saw the people with the blood,’ he said, ‘so Pa must have been right. Firecrackers can’t do that to you, can they, Tannie? Ma says they are dangerous. There were policemen here, Tannie, there are still some.’

      He was looking up at me with big eyes, his hands held together in front of him. A skinny boy in swimming shorts and hungry ribs. There was a policeman putting yellow tape around the room. ‘POLICE’ was written in blue capitals across the tape. Another policeman was taking photographs.

      ‘Are they dead, Tannie? Are they?’

      ‘I don’t know,’ I said.

      ‘Me and my sister went inside, like you said. We were hiding behind the couch.’

      I realised I was clutching the Tupperware to my chest. I relaxed my grip and put it on my lap. His gaze followed the food.

      ‘I was scared, Tannie. We were all scared. But it’s over now, isn’t it?’

      ‘Yes,’ I said, ‘it’s over now.’

      The adults and some of the children were going back into their rooms, but a few of the children stayed in the safety of the main house, peering out from the doorway. They were frightened and needed something for the shock.

      ‘Cake,’ I said, standing up, pulling at my dress to get it straight.

      The little boy raced ahead of me into the house, saying: ‘It’s the tannie with the cake. It’s all over now, she says. She’s going to give us cake.’

      I sat on a beige couch and the kids shuffled closer to me, to my Tupperware. The couches were pretend leather; they felt plastic and sticky. There was a policewoman in the office talking to the ma in her curlers.

      ‘Children,’ I said, ‘I promised you all cake. And you will get it.’