Six For Seven (A South African Dinner)

By Jo Roderick

What are you served for dinner while in the company of a lecherous reverend, an aging beauty queen, a gay lottery presenter, a guru, a shrink, a few reporters, and an odd assortment of South African parodies? Why, dinner of course! The rest is just dessert!

This novel takes a quirky look at South Africa, its inhabitants, and the comedy that is politics. This is what some real South Africans are like. Some you may like, and they will be back in their own book series.

Do join us! Dinner is served, settle in, and get to know everyone at the table.

If you enjoy this novel, you may want to follow the characters, and read 'The Scandari Saga - Aeonosphere'.

For more information please visit http://647.joroderick.com/

Synopsis:

The Wynberghs are a well-to-do family. Rachel loves to socialise and throw fund-raisers, while her husband, Mervin loves to avoid them. Tonight, you will meet their guests.

Tom Scandari and Annie Wynbergh have a long-standing friendship that could blossom at any minute. Annie’s parents are determined to see her married and the pressure is on. This couple’s story continues into the series, ‘The Scandari Saga’, where Tom discovers the ‘Aeonosphere’ and travels through time.

Leticia and her husband Bingo are old friends of the family and have a marriage of convenience. Perhaps it is time they re-evaluated their relationship.

The Reverend has ulterior motives, and he arrives with a plan. A fund-raiser is an excellent way to fill the coffers.

The Guru has a few moves up his robe that leave Leticia panting. Can the socialite resist his magical charm or will she succumb to his poetic tongue?

Katherine and Ewyn tell an amusing tale involving a bloody axe. They both poke fun at each other and Katherine’s children, the monkeys.

Will Kathy and Mary venture beyond holding hands and go on a first date? Will Gareth’s head ever stop spinning like the balls of the lottery? Will Bingo hit the gay jackpot?

It’s just a day in the diary of typical South African ... or is it?

Genres:

Humour/Humor

Satire

Comedy

Parodies

Political

British English

Concepts:

South Africa; Socialite; Liberal; Hijacking; Dinner; Liberal; Friendship; Dating; Relationship; Wedding; Love; Secrets; Legacy; Mystery; Crime; Corruption; Gay; Lesbian; Religion; Taboo; Johannesburg

Other Books by the Author
* The Book of Life
* Happy Now!
* Recycled Thoughts
* Publish It Yourself! (Book 1 of Publish It Yourself!)
* Format It Yourself! (Book 2 of Publish It Yourself!)
* Viral WordPress SEO
* Twitter for Humans
* The Scandari Saga - Aeonosphere
* The Scandari Saga - Back To Christmas
* Bermuda Phoenix

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jo Roderick
• Release date: May 24, 2014
• ISBN: 9780987011749

Book preview

Preface

This novel is written in a slightly different format to the usual and it will become noticeable as you progress through each chapter to the end. If you are in the habit of reading the last pages of the book first, try to resist the urge.

Oh, all right then, have a quick look, but do not read anything! The reason will be clear when you reach the end. You have been forewarned. The manuscript will not self-destruct, but it will spoil the flow. If the body of the book is the main course, then the end of the book is a delicious dessert best savoured ... finally.

It is also advisable to read this book, which is my first work of fiction, before you read any of the others. It introduces some of my characters, over dinner. Some guests do not get any call-backs, but others will go on into separate books, and some even into their own miniseries. Who will make the final cut, is a closely guarded secret at this point.

I have taken great care to present you with believable characters that you will grow to love and some, even to loathe. Those that brought the wine to dinner got the most attention, and they ‘spin off’, so to speak.

This is a work of fiction. It seems silly to have to state that, but never-the-legal-less .... no character is based on anyone, and no offence is meant. If you feel that one of the characters is based on you — it is not, relax! It is all coincidence, and entirely from my over-active imagination.

Some of the events really did happen, and some did not. None of them intrudes on anybody’s right to privacy. Some may even have happened to me, but shhh ... that is a national secret. An author always pulls fiction from his experiences and imagination. It is natural to have some truth slip into one’s writing. The truth is never fiction, but it can be dressed up with satire and made presentable.

Most of the dates, and some of the events that are discussed or hinted at during the course of discourse, are based on a South African timeline. You should also understand that some of the characters are extreme parodies for entertainment purposes. They do, however, highlight some challenges that South Africa is facing.

Some of these challenges, in both the past and present, are very real. The crime is not exaggerated and some of the events that unfold are based on what South Africans consider everyday events, as tragic and horrific, as they may seem.

Indirectly, I have chosen to show what life in South Africa is truly like. The good, the bad, and the oh-so-corrupt. No two persons’ perceptions are the same. This is just my interpretation, which is based on many years of living here, in Sunny South Africa.

I am also not anti-religious or against spiritual practice. Some characters simply portray the worst of what society has produced. Terrible people exist everywhere, including within the sanctuary of religion. I have simply let my characters reveal themselves for who they are, and augmented their characteristics for effect.

It may seem as if some parts of the book are political, and indeed, they may be. As is said, if the shoe fits, then one should wear it. It is not possible to live in a politically motivated world, and exist in it without some political impressions.

No matter how much the authorities may refuse to admit the facts, they remain poignant nevertheless. This is a parody, a satire if you wish; an exaggeration of reality, but it is based on day-to-day experience.

South Africa has a beautiful and diverse culture. This country is breathtakingly beautiful, and that is the opinion of millions of tourists that grace our shores daily.

So sit back, let the wine flow, and enjoy your meal. The dessert delivers a punch and a promise for a future read, both literally and figuratively.

Technical Note

If you have disabled ‘Publisher Styles’, or a similar setting on your book reader or reading device, please enable it. This book has several sections that are not in simple plain text.

Please note that you are still able to scale your fonts. The images, together with the effects, will continue to match your font scale, whatever you set.

I have designed the layout to add to your reading pleasure and it makes the book seem more like a printed book. This is especially noticeable towards the end of the novel.

You may wish to read a page or two of South African terms and slang before continuing to read. Please click here to go to the South African Slang and Terms page. Once you have read them, click the link at the bottom of that page to return to this point in the novel.

Chapter One

Tomas Scandari

No one knows ... yet!

They drew up at an impressive wrought iron gate. They could see little of the house through the bars other than a long driveway, thickly landscaped on either side. The four-metre-high walls were imposing, and classic in design. On a closer look, intimidating rows of electrified wiring gleaming in the setting afternoon sun could be seen. The owners obviously enjoyed their privacy. Perhaps even their safety.

Tom rolled down his window and stared at the assortment of buttons on the intercom raised on a pedestal next to the car window. He pressed the button labelled Main House and waited.

An indiscernible voice crackled loudly over the little speaker, and the gate elegantly swung open noiselessly before them. He drove up the driveway and parked the battered Toyota next to an array of vehicles in a small side area for visitors. There was no doubt in his mind that there would be an impressive pool of exotic automobiles by dinnertime.

The house was large, but in an understated way. Clearly, it had been modernised over the years, but in style befitting such grand old architecture.

Over several decades of renovations, most of the glazed openings in the house had been replaced by French doors with side windows. Almost every room had a set of French doors leading out onto various immaculately kept gardens or balconies.

The house stood open to the warm early evening air that was gently laced with sweet fragrances from the lush garden. The dense greenery hid the immense boundary wall. It was an oasis in the big city, otherwise renowned for gold, crime, and corruption.

This was Saxonwold, a central suburb in Johannesburg north, where old money resided, and which the nouveau riche attempted to invade. Most of the properties were still estates, and sizeable ones at that. The sprawling acres had mercifully not been conquered by the ever-growing and popular, cluster and town house developments.

Many of the regal houses on Cotswold Drive were built in the early part of the twentieth century. The Wynberghs' estate was no different, although it had been thoroughly modernised by Johannesburg's finest architects, and their anonymous staff.

Tom knew the Wynbergh house well. He had been at ease here for several years. Kathy, on the other hand, was anxious. She was not used to being in what she considered ‘grand company’.

Tom smiled at her and squeezed her hand reassuringly. They don’t bite — much! Seriously, they are very relaxed, in spite of the position they have attained in life. You are stressing for no reason. Trust me ....

That’s reassuring! I was afraid you were dragging me off to a cave of cannibals who have been fasting for the better part of an arduous week.

He laughed. She was so witty and entertaining when she was not trying hard to impress.

In time, he thought, in time. You can take the poor girl out of poverty, but you can’t take the colourful out of an Abramse.

Right! Onwards to beat off the cannibals with our bare hands, and to survive without as much as a nibble, he retorted. Shall we?

The pathway curved up to the front door under a grand colonnaded portico where a tuxedoed butler greeted them in a magnificently intoned South African accent. My name is Vusi. Welcome! This way sir, madam, he said with clear diction.

He led them through a large double-volume entrance hall to an outdoor patio at the back of the house. It was well appointed with plump, comfortable couches and chairs overlooking further green splendour. A classically shaped swimming-pool sparkled in a courtyard framed by the back of single story buildings.

Ah, boomed Mervin, you've arrived, please, sit. Everyone, this is Tom Scandari and Kathy Abramse from The Daily Star. Kathy, this is my wife Rachel.

They were seated and the butler silently rematerialised beside them with startling efficiency. What may I get you to drink, Sir? Madam?

He took mental note of their preferences and disappeared with his previous grace. They soon settled into the conversation with dinner guests already present.

Leticia and Bingo are in show business, introduced Rachel. You may know Bingo from some of our local soap operas, and of course, he does present the lottery every week.

Tom did in fact already know Bill ‘Bingo’ Jackson, but since the reason was not yet public knowledge, he preferred the anonymity of reintroduction. Life just has a sudden way of sweeping you along and before you know it, you are somewhere else and nothing will ever be the same again.

Bingo winked at him and smiled in silent acknowledgement. Tom returned the smile grateful for Bill’s discretion. It would all come out eventually, but for now, he just wanted to enjoy the last few weeks of his ‘old life’, so to speak.

So what do you do Tom, asked Leticia, and how do you know our Mervin?

Rachel chuckled and interrupted, Who does not know Mervin?

Rachel, that is so true. I’m a reporter for the Daily, and I met Mervin through an article I did on him several years ago. We have played squash together ever since.

Tom is one of my best friends, grinned Mervin. He tries to beat me at squash every Friday afternoon. It’s disgraceful! It’s shameful how hard he tries. You should see it ... plus I’m a little older.

A little? snorted Tom. He is old enough to be my younger brother.

Right then! Tom, you can stay for dinner, said Mervin and everyone laughed.

I met Leticia when we were both still young, and in the beauty business, said Rachel. She has her own talent agency now and consults regularly.

... and she is still as pretty as ever — even more so! Bingo piped up.

That she certainly is, and has not let herself go like I did years ago, added Rachel.

You are the most beautiful woman here, said Mervin seriously. Sorry Leticia, no offence meant, but naturally I am biased, and then smiled infectiously.

After twenty-eight years of marriage, the Wynberghs were still in love and it showed. Tom held the Wynbergh marriage up to a standard he once hoped to find for himself. When Mervin looked at his wife, he saw only the young girl he had fallen in love with — as if it were yesterday.

Yesterday, of course, included two adult children and a lifetime of experiences together. There had been years of struggles which they had weathered, and the rewards of which they now enjoyed. They had created a comfortable life together and shared it with those closest to the family. Rachel may have given up the lure of the fashion and beauty world, but she was still very much in the limelight, much to Mervin’s regular complaints.

Tom chuckled quietly to himself as he recalled Mervin’s description of the limelight lowlifes that his wife dragged home to dinners and charities. She saw the best in everyone, and there was no charity too small to draw her attention.

Kathy sat forward in her chair and caught Rachel’s attention. May I ask why the invitation says six for seven? I’m used to seeing the usual half-an-hour arrival time.

Oh that is easy to explain, my dear. I know you are relatively new to the City of Gold. In Johannesburg, no one is ever on time unless he or she leaves three days in advance! The traffic snarls are now legendary. This way it allows everyone to arrive, settle in, and nurse a drink without stressing too much.

Plus it allows us to socialise with friends before the vultures arrive fashionably late, said Mervin mischievously.

Mervin! That is no way to talk in front of our guests.

It’s not our friends I was referring to dear, he said, winking at her. If there is one thing my poor wife has failed to change in all of these years, it is to make me socially acceptable.

There is still time ... all is not lost. She mock rolled her eyes and laughed.

A pleasant musical chime announced the arrival of further dinner guests.

That would be the rest of the vultures ... erm ... guests arriving.

Mervin, behave!

The butler ushered a stately black man into view. He wore a clerical shirt of sorts. Tom figured he was some sort of reverend. The Zion Christian Church perhaps? He looks very grand.

Reverend Letaba! I am so pleased you could join us tonight, said Rachel. Everyone please meet Reverend Moses Letaba. We are working together on a charity close to my heart. Reverend Letaba is setting up a nursery school in Orange Farm, and we are arranging fundraisers together.

Good evening everyone. I look forward to getting to know you all a little better before the end of the evening.

The Reverend spoke in a warm, resonant tone that would be well suited to a politician. His note was gentle, but with a firmness that seemed to discourage the expression of an opinion contrary to his own. Tom noticed he did not encourage any familiarity, but allowed himself to be formally introduced.

You get all kinds of people, he thought. Some are welcoming and some tell you that you are welcome — or not. Tom had no doubt that Letaba drew large crowds to his sermons and would have no trouble raising funds for anything he set his mind to.

No sooner had Letaba been introduced and seated, when further guests arrived. There were further introductions and some shuffling of outdoor loungers to accommodate the latest arrivals.

Ah, the joys of the socialite, thought Tom. Thank goodness for some normal looking people I can relate to. These swanky events are not my scene at all. If it wasn’t for Mervin ....

Kathy, said Rachel, interrupting his thoughts, I believe you and Mary may have some passions in common. Mary is a clinical psychologist and specialises in criminology. I believe you also took criminology as a major in your studies? I would imagine it gives a reporter great insight into the criminal mind.

It does, yes, answered Kathy. "Having partially grown up on the Cape Flats also gives a person a first-hand insight into crime. My stepfather took us out of the troubled area and insisted I finish my schooling. So I studied journalism, specialising in criminology. I felt it was the least I could do to try to help reverse our current trends in criminal violence.

Anyway, let me not hog the conversation with depressing crime stats, she laughed nervously. There are far more pleasant themes to chat about.

Mary, why did you specialise in criminology, she said quickly diverting attention. I must confess that, for me, there is a certain fascination in understanding why people turn to crime. Especially the terrible violence some individuals resort to.

Very smooth, Miss Abramse, thought Tom, smiling broadly at her. He could just see the sparks literally igniting. Fireworks! Mary, Mary, no little lambs in tow I see. I wonder if this relatively bland blonde swings the bat or is a catcher? This is promising to be a very interesting evening after all.

I’ve always found people to be rather interesting, replied Mary with a smile. I’ve always been curious to learn why people do what they do, and the decisions they make. In life you only get to take the one fork in the road, and the other option usually remains speculation. The ‘what ifs’ in life if you like.

It’s like the proverbial time-bomb, heh? said Mervin, poking fun at their seriousness. We always seem to find a high incidence of those in government, don’t we?

Tom looked over at the latest arrivals. One could always trust Rachel to invite a mixed bag of interest. Gareth looked rather well put together, he realised looking down at his own simple outfit for the evening. He puts me to shame.

Perhaps the time had come for him to start investing in a new wardrobe. One that contained more than just sensible clothes. He was just wearing his daily uniform, which largely consisted of jeans and golf shirts bought by the dozen. Not too shabby, not too fancy either, he decided.

The Reverend looks bored. Do we bore him? I can’t blame him. I’m somewhat bored by high society too — well, unless they get up to something interesting I can write about, of course.

Letaba was wearing an immaculate dark suit of what appeared to be a fine European cut. He was neatly assembled and pressed.

His clerical collar looks quite new, thought Tom. Not the biblically typical modest man of God, heh? Hmmm, looks like a politician to me. I suppose being a religious leader is a form of politics. There I go again! Do I even know how to relax and stop watching people?

Gajendra was another odd addition to the evening. He was rather striking with his prominent eyebrows and a receding head of curls. He spoke with a robust Indian accent in a gentle soothing manner.

A guru perhaps? pondered Tom. He certainly looks the part with the flowing orange garb. He also looks a little unsettled in this environment. He should be comfortable in that robe. It looks really comfy! Loose and spacious. What is he hiding — Oh stop it! Once a reporter, always a damn snoop. Still, everyone has a story and don’t I know it well. I’ll bet that before the end of the evening, he talks at least once about someone’s chakras.

That Mary really does seem to be taking a special interest in Kathy. They did seem to have lots in common after all, and chattered away about all things criminal.

Let’s face it, thought Tom grimly, there is no shortage of criminal activity in South Africa. The ‘New’ South Africa ... the same old people!

Chapter Two

Kathy Abramse

Kathy learns to unwind, and fast forward!

Kathy was engrossed in deep conversation with Mary when the final dinner guests arrived. Katherine and Ewyn were introduced to the group and seated.

It was a warm evening to be outdoors. The fragrance of jasmine came in on a light breeze with the fading light of the day. Its sweet scent wafted through the porch with gentle embrace and familiarity.

This is turning out to be quite a fun evening after all. The Wynberghs are as down to earth as Tom said they would be. Oh, look at him! Grinning at me with that I-told-you-so look. You are lucky we are in polite company, buddy, she thought and returned the smile.

After giving the newcomers what she considered a polite amount of attention, Kathy was burning to return to her conversation with Mary. She was rather interesting, fascinating even — and really pretty.

Mary caught her staring and smiled invitingly.

Oh! Thank goodness, she can’t see me blushing under my brown skin, she thought, thoroughly enjoying the attention, although now quite embarrassed. She’s got such beautifully long and straight dark blond hair. I wish mine wasn’t so damn curly. I just give up really! Just let it spring in curls all over. Her naturally curly hair was even more stubborn and determined than Kathy herself.

"So, do you subscribe to the philosophy