CHAPTER 24
Friday June 27th, 2014
Johannesburg, South Africa.
Auggie calls Jaco at six thirty a.m. South African time (which makes it five thirty Jaco's time). He feels a little bad, but suspects the man will forgive him.
It turns out Jaco is already awake. "Owen." His voice is warm. Auggie smiles in response. It's great to hear him again.
Auggie gives him a quick overview of what they've found. Of what he needs.
"None of that should be a problem," he says to Auggie. "Leeza only comes in this afternoon so I'll ask Theresa to sort you out this morning. Can you get there just after eight? I'll get back to you about the rest of it."
His words are pragmatic but despite the man's efforts to keep his tone that way there is a deep undercurrent of sorrow.
It is clear to Auggie that Jaco understands the implications of what has been said.
Annie and Auggie take the half-hour walk to Jaco's practice. It is five minutes past eight when Annie walks him to the front entrance of the veterinary hospital.
"Two steps up, security gate across the door, doorbell on the doorframe on the right," she says. She reaches up to give him a peck on the cheek. "I'm off," she says. "See you later?"
"Yep." He winks at her. "Be good."
Annie is planning on walking across to Jaco and Michelle's house. She needs to disconnect and remove Michelle's laptop from where Auggie had hidden it and return it to the garage. She also needs to retrieve the hard copies of the invoices, prescriptions and notebook.
Auggie walks. Finds the steps, the gate. The bell. Rings it. There's a buzz. A woman's voice emerges from inside. "You can just push the gate," she says. He does. Walks forward and to the left in the direction from which her voice had come. His cane finds the base of a counter. His hand finds the top.
"Good morning," she says, brightly. "How can I help you?"
"Hi." He smiles. "I'm Owen Garrett. Jaco's friend. I've come to look at the computers for him?"
"Oh. Yes." The receptionist sounds as if she has solved a personal mystery. "Doctor Purdon said you were coming. But she's with a patient now. Do you want to sit down and wait for her? There are chairs behind you."
"Thanks." He makes a one-eighty. Three or so paces across the floor he finds the edge of a plastic chair - the same kind found in waiting rooms the world over.
He hasn't been inside a veterinary clinic for a long time. There's an odd mix of sound and smell. Muffled dog barks and the rattling of metal cages come from somewhere deeper inside the building. The squawking and scratching of a parrot (or something similar) diffuses through the waiting-room. Patient or resident? The smell of disinfectant mixes with the somewhat more comfortable, savory smell of pet food.
A door opens followed by panting, the clicking of claws on tile and a vibrant, deep, woman's voice. "Just keep that bucket on his head, Mrs. Jackson. Otherwise he's going to bite those stitches out…and then you'll have to come visit me again, won't you, Harvey?" The voice has changed. Affectionate baby-talk. There's the sound of vigorous petting, and responsive tail-thumping. Auggie can't help but grin.
"Doctor Bouwer's friend is here, Doctor Purdon." It's the receptionist's again.
"Aha, Nthabi! So he is." Footsteps approach. They stop. "Hello," she says. She's short. Her voice isn't coming from very far above him at all - and he's still sitting down. It's a warm voice - full of some kind of secret amusement. "You're Owen." It's a statement.
"Yes," he says. He stands. Holds out a hand. Smiles at her. "Hi."
His hand is shaken vigorously by a strong but very petite hand. Jaco's assistant's big voice belies her tiny frame. There's a pause. He gets the distinct impression he's being scrutinized.
She delivers her verdict. "Bloody hell," she says, drawing it out. "You're gorgeous."
He laughs.
Doctor Theresa Purdon is a loud, irreverent, refreshing delight. She is also in the process of escorting him to the practice office.
"You can call me Trix," she informs him. "If you call me Theresa I very likely won't respond. It's not that I don't like it, but more that I forget that it's my name. No one except Jaco manages to get me to remember. I think that's because he's my boss. I'd probably answer if he called me Prudence."
"Trix?" He's curious. "I haven't heard 'Theresa' shortened like that before."
"Oh, it's not short for 'Theresa'. It's short for Trixie-Pixie." She sighs. "I'm afraid that's what happens when you're five foot nothing tall, half a foot wide and have freckles and ears that stick out. You never outgrow your childhood nickname. I've been Trixie-Pixie for as long as I remember. I'm going to be a little wrinkled, grey Trixie-Pixie."
"Cute," he says.
"Thanks," she says promptly. "So are you." She's as quick as a whip with the repartee, this one. He loves it.
"We're here." She stops. Opens a door. "Oh, buggerty-buggerty-bugger," she says with emphasis. She doesn't move forward. Instead she removes his hand from her elbow and places it on a door frame. "Here," she instructs. "Wait. Or you'll end up with a broken neck. I've left crap everywhere. And I mean everywhere."
There's a whirlwind of paper shuffling, drawers opening and closing and other unidentifiable bangs, thumps and scrapes. "I am the most accomplished of slobs," she says. "I trash Leeza's beautiful office within twenty minutes every morning. How she puts up with me I don't know. Maybe because I'm so good at it it's almost a superpower."
"If it's a talent, you should be proud of it," he tells her. He's rather enjoying the sound of the chaos.
"I am," she tells him. "Usually," she amends. "Just not when I have to park men in doorways because of it. It doesn't create a good impression."
The tornado subsides. Trix returns. Gives him her arm
"Right. You'll probably just about be able to escape with your life now. Here's the chair." She places her hand on it so he can locate it. "That Bloody Machine, as I fondly call it, is on the desk in front of you. I can supply coffee and brief moments of entertainment. The rest is your baby. I fix living things, break mechanical ones. That's just a fact of life. Cosmic balance and all that. You really don't want me to come too close. Just take my word for it." She has barely taken a breath, but now she pauses.
Auggie takes a seat and aims a grin at her. He doesn't have to tilt his head up very far. "Coffee would be great," he says. She vanishes.
He pulls out a small pen drive which he inserts into a USB port – a quick plug-in-and-go screen-reader that will get him through the installation of his more comprehensive software. He finds another open USB port into which he plugs an external hard drive. Then he finds the port for his headphones. He begins to get to work.
Trix returns accompanied by the aroma of really good coffee.
He pulls his headphones down around his neck. "Smells good." He makes appreciative noises.
"I know,' she says. "I made it a condition of my employment that decent coffee must be available at all times. Failure constitutes breach of contract."
"A woman after my own heart."
She pushes a giant mug against his hand and hops up onto the desk next to him.
"Have screen-reader will travel?" she asks.
He raises an eyebrow. Sends her a questioning look.
"My brother's best mate at University was blind," she explains, "so I know the score. I swear to you, I'm convinced the two of them had figured out a way to get screen-readers to audio-describe porn by the time they'd finished putting their computer science lectures to good use. "
"Never underestimate a geek," Auggie comments. Sips his coffee.
"Amen to that," she agrees with conviction. There's a brief pause. He takes another sip of his coffee.
"So," she asks. "Are you taken?"
He's momentarily taken aback. Recovers. Shoots her a grin. "Why?" he returns, "Are you offering?"
"Oh, God. Definitely!" She doesn't hesitate. "I am not stupid."
He laughs. Makes a regretful face. "I am kinda taken, though," he tells her.
"That's just weird," she informs him. "How can you be 'kind of' taken?"
He's not quite sure how to respond to that, so he doesn't immediately.
"Oh, shit," she says. "I just got a bit personal, didn't I?" She pauses, but not quite long enough for him to get a word in edgewise. "I'm sorry. I'm from the Eastern Cape," she explains. "We are born completely without impulse control down there. I can fake it for about as long as a consult. But no longer than that. You got the real me, I'm afraid."
"Hey. Stop." He holds up his hands, trying to stem the flow. "The only reason I didn't say anything is because I'm trying to figure out how to answer your question. Really. I have no problem with 'personal'. And I kinda like the real you."
"Oh, good," she says. "You either like it or you don't, I suppose. I don't generally give a shit either way. I is what I is. But it's probably not a good idea to piss off your boss's friends."
She's not going to let him off the hook, though. "So, what does 'kind of taken' mean?"
"I guess," he says, "that it means I'm hoping to be taken."
"Ah." She sounds like she's mulling over that. "You're not officially taken, but your heart is?"
She's hit the nail on the head. "Yeah," he says. "That."
"Hmm." She sounds thoughtful. "In that case, I guess I'm kind of taken too." She sighs. Puts a hand on his arm. "But before you ask, I'm not going to elaborate on that. So don't bother."
He doesn't, but when he begins to ask her about Jaco - about what he's like to work for, about her impressions of him - he's pretty sure she's unwittingly elaborating after all.
After a bit more conversation her mug hits the desk. "Much as I adore you," she declares, "I can only take so long on a coffee break. I am after all supposed to be working for my salary."
"Yeah, I'd better get on with this too," he says, waving at the computer on the desk.
"So, you're good here?" she asks. "I have about a hundred thousand kitties and doggies lined up in the back there waiting for me to wave my magic wand over them and turn them from 'hes' and 'shes' into 'its'. I'm going to be gone for a while."
"Yeah, I'm good."
"Right-o, then. If you need anything just ask Nthabi at reception." She hops off the desk and heads for the door. Stops.
"Oh!" She's facing again. "I just had a thought. You definitely need to know that the bathroom's left out of the door into the corridor, second door to your left. Because that coffee's going to start talking soon. If you hit the room with all the little boxes and bottles in it you've gone too far. "
He laughs. "Thanks," he says.
It's not long before he's found what he needs to. He copies the evidence onto that external hard drive he's brought along. Leans back in the chair. Thinks.
Stands up. Does some scouting of the office. Carefully. He hasn't forgotten Trix's tornado.
He gives Annie a call.
"How far are you?" he asks. "Almost done?"
"Yeah. On my way back to you now, actually. I was just going to pop into the store on the way, though, pick up a few things."
"Could you come here first? Shop on the way to the station afterwards?" he asks. "I'm pretty much done, but I just need your help with something while everyone else is still out of the way."
"Sure," she says.
Ten minutes later the doorbell sounds and shortly thereafter Annie's with him, asking him: "What do you need?"
"I need you to look through the filing drawers. Look for the originals of those invoices. See if you can find them."
Annie does. All three drawers open. All three drawers close.
"Everything's there," Annie tells him, "perfectly organized," a beat, "except those invoices."
They go back to reception. Auggie asks Nthabi if they can go back and say goodbye to Trix.
Annie follows the receptionist's directions and gets them there.
"Hey." The happy, resonant voice comes at him from inside the room. "Are you finished doing your nerd thing?"
"I am." He smiles at her. "Just wanted to say goodbye before we left."
"'We' being?..."
"Laura," says Annie.
"Trix, this is Laura," says Auggie, doing his duty. "Laura, this is Trix."
"Ah. Laura, is it?" says Trix in a thoughtful voice. "Hmm…Yes. I can see why, Owen." She continues: "Sorry I can't shake, Laura," she says, cheerfully, voice back to normal. "A wave's going to have to do, I'm afraid. I'm supposed to be keeping sterile, and also I'm covered in gore."
Annie laughs. "A wave is fine," she says,
They say goodbye.
They go.
"She's fun," says Annie.
"She is," agrees Auggie.
"What did she mean by 'I can see why'?"
Auggie shrugs.
"No clue," he lies.