Second Time Lucky

By Malihanelo Molapo

There are only two things in her life of which Criselda Moyo is sure - her love for her twin boys and her job as Senior Program Analyst at Baikopanyi Technologies in Midrand. But when her biggest client’s system gets hacked, Criselda’s job is on the line. She must find a fail-safe plan to save Baikopanyi’s reputation, and her own. Then the suave Justice Dlangamandla, with his personalised handkerchiefs and chiselled good looks, is brought in to help with the investigation. And very soon the thirty-three-year-old divorcée finds it impossible to concentrate on the task at hand.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kwela
• Release date: Oct 15, 2012
• ISBN: 9780795704499

Book preview

1

Criselda Moyo stepped out of the courtroom hurriedly, not believing what had just happened in there. Given half the chance, she would let the tears flow straight away. She headed for the water cooler in the foyer so that she could ease the tight lump in her throat.

She was walking so fast that she didn’t see the tall man who had just poured himself a cup of water until she collided with him and it spilled all over her grey chiffon blouse.

I’m so sorry, sir. I was in such a hurry ... she said with a shaky voice, unable to finish her sentence as she looked down at her soaked chest.

Trying to wipe her blouse with her hands, she saw a coffee-coloured face before her with a very square, strong jaw. His small oval eyes had the deepest, darkest tone she had ever seen, but they were surmounted by a deep frown. His head was shaved and he had thick, dark lips, just full enough to complement his good looks. He looked in his late thirties, she guessed as she quickly collected her thoughts.

Please forgive me, sir. It was idiotic of me. It’s just that ...

But before she could finish her sentence the man took out a handkerchief and handed it to her. She started wiping herself again.

You should be more careful. What if I had been carrying something hot? he said in a cool but slightly annoyed tone.

As I said, please forgive me, I was in a hurry to get some water.

Late for a court hearing? he asked composedly.

No, I actually just came from a hearing involving my ex-husband, she replied huskily.

Really. Well, I have a hearing myself, he continued unfazed.

Then I guess we have something else in common, other than wet clothes, Criselda smiled, trying to lighten the mood.

But the man just walked away, showing no interest in engaging in pleasantries and not even saying goodbye. Taken aback by his coldness, she realised she was still holding his handkerchief.

She looked at it and saw the initials JD boldly embroidered in royal blue in a corner of the white cloth. It looked as if it had never been used before, and yet it felt so soft when she caressed it with her fingers. She brought it to her face to wipe any left-over water droplets and caught a whiff of a musky and woody scent that for some strange reason put her mind at ease.

Her thoughts drifted and she wondered who this stranger was who had been so abrupt with her. Had he simply helped her out with his handkerchief so that they wouldn’t look like a spectacle to any passer-by? But the hallway was deserted. She wondered why the man was there. Could it be for the same reasons as her own – or maybe even worse? His eyes had seemed cold, but somehow also alluring in a strange kind of way.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the loud squeak of the tall, heavy oak door of the courtroom where she had just been. Advocate Nzimande, her lawyer, came out, arguing in muffled tones with the lawyer of her ex-husband, Sifiso.

Sifiso followed just behind them. He immediately quickened his pace and approached Criselda with a cunning smile, followed by a smug wink. Then he hissed, Things didn’t quite go as planned for you, did they? The judge is right. I deserve at least one weekend a month with them. He sniggered and quickly moved on.

As the lawyers approached, Advocate Nzimande stopped next to Criselda and told Sifiso’s lawyer that he would call him later to further discuss their clients’ case. Then he turned to her and said, I’m really sorry, Criss. I know you’re worried about Sifiso’s irresponsible ways and wild parties. I thought the judge would rule for supervised visits for now. But don’t worry, my child. Leaving aside his unruly ways, he really does love his kids.

Advocate Nzimande had been her father’s close friend and confidant for over thirty years, and since her father’s death Baba Nzimande had taken it upon himself to look after the interests of his friend’s family. His law firm was one of the most reputable in the Johannesburg CBD.

Criselda couldn’t help smiling. The advocate’s grey Afro hair was sticking out of his funny hat, while it looked as if his spectacles were about to fall off his pointy English nose, as it was often called teasingly by close friends and family. And indeed he did have a stern, old-school English accent when he spoke. He had adopted it during his years at Cambridge and it had stuck ever since.

Earnestly Criselda looked at Baba Nzimande as he went on about his latest farming project in KwaZulu-Natal, but actually her thoughts were with the owner of the handkerchief, known to her only as JD.

2

As she stared into her breakfast of muesli and strawberry yoghurt, Criselda wondered about the current state of her life and how it had come to this point. She had been living alone with her kids for just over a year now since her divorce from Sifiso had become final.

They lived in a three-bedroomed double-storey house that she had bought with her ex when they had first started earning decent money. The furniture and drapery in all the rooms were simple yet elegant and were mostly in earthy brown and cream tones. Criselda liked things to be down-to-earth, although she had made sure that all her kitchen gadgets were either silver or black.

The custody ruling had been pending because of disagreements over the types of visitation rights, and even though things hadn’t quite gone her way, she was relieved that it had finally been ruled upon. A quiet-mannered woman of thirty-three, she had philosophically accepted her recent transition from being a married woman to a single mother.

Her world was full of love, with shrills of laughter and squalls of fighting that went on each day between her nine-year-old twin boys, Siyanda and Sandile. Although they weren’t identical, they were both the spitting image of Sifiso.

The twins were the central point of her life. After a day spent working as a senior program analyst for Baikopanyi Technologies, the highlight for her was coming home to them. Even though her job was highly demanding because of the accounts she was responsible for, she always made sure she spent enough time with her precious boys.

She did make attempts from time to time to have more of a social life – she had spent so many years juggling being a wife, mother and rising career woman that she hadn’t always put enough effort into developing this part of her life. All in all, though, she wasn’t that outgoing, so whenever she got the opportunity to spend time with her close friends, she tried to ensure that she made the most of it.

Baikopanyi Technologies held many high-profile accounts, both in government and the private sector, and Criselda was looking forward to being made partner one day. She put in many hours, even if it meant she had to bring work home to attend to after the kids had gone to bed. Of course, she wouldn’t be able to manage all these things without Florina, her housekeeper, who was currently experiencing a family emergency that had kept her away for a week.

When she saw the first rays of sunlight on the grey marble counter tops of her kitchen, she knew it was time to get the kids up and ready for another day of school.

Eish, life, Criselda sighed. With that she put her unfinished breakfast in the fridge and headed upstairs to wake the boys.

* * *

It was 8:15 when Criselda walked through the big, illuminated glass doors of Baikopanyi. As usual, she greeted Johannes, the security guard, who had been there for as long as she could remember. His friendly, toothy smile always made Criselda feel welcome when she passed him at the door.

Upon entry she was welcomed by a spacious foyer, the walls of which were panelled with sheets of black marble. Large potted plants were neatly arranged in an attractive but corporate manner. In the centre of it all was a large reception desk, set up against the backdrop of a huge screen to resemble an open office.

All the phone calls for the building came through the switchboard down here. This was manned by Tseli, a beautiful, tiny-framed girl with the most unfortunate manner. She seemed to think that nothing in the world was positive, and when she smiled, it would always be only with her teeth.

Good morning, Tseli. Lovely morning, isn’t it?

Good morning, Mrs Moyo. Yes, I suppose it is.

Indeed it is. Anything for me? asked Criselda.

I’ve already given Suthukazi all your messages, Mrs Moyo. She just went up.

Suthukazi Jones, a light-skinned woman of thirty, was Criselda’s assistant and supervised all the junior programmers in the department. She also was a very close friend and confidante, since they had been hired around the same time at Baikopanyi, nine years ago. The two women had immediately clicked and shared a lot at work and in their private lives.

Suthukazi was also single, but had never been married. She had an eight-year-old daughter from a