“Oh. Sorry.” She sounded defeated.
“But I need you to make sure you ask Oliver for my clothes. That is important. Tell him they are for me, he knows who I am and washes them in a special way.”
She nodded at him. “Sure.”
He hung up and she continued to sit there. He watched for a while, before phoning back. She jumped again and answered. He shook his head. Why did she get a fright every time the phone rang? It was ridiculous. It was on her desk and it was a phone. Phones rang.
“Now,” he said into the receiver. “We have to leave in fifty-eight minutes and counting.”
She jumped out of her seat and made her way down the passage. He watched her go. There was nothing normal about her. About the way she moved around in the world. Her movements were all so big and dramatic—and then of course there’d been that incident when she’d attacked his lawyer. He smiled at the memory. He’d tried not to smile in the moment, but my God, watching her cling to Mr. Mabuza’s back had been a moment he wasn’t sure he would ever forget. He continued to watch her walk away, and then she stopped. She seemed to be having a debate with herself. She almost turned around and then stopped herself. She repeated this movement a few times, before she finally turned around and walked back to his office sheepishly. She peered around the door tentatively, like a tortoise sticking its head out of the shell to survey its surroundings.
“Um . . . where is the laundromat, exactly?” she asked in a small voice.
“Directly behind this building at the strip mall,” he replied.
She nodded at him and walked away again, but then stopped once more. Her head appeared again. “Do I need money?”
He sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. “I have an account there,” he said. She shot him a thumbs up and then walked away again. He watched, waiting for her to turn and come back, but this time she didn’t. He felt slightly disappointed by that.
CHAPTERFORTY
Poppy
When I got back with his laundry, I was in desperate need of a cup of coffee. I was exhausted; hanging onto Mr. Mabuza had certainly depleted my energy, as had my very brisk walk to the laundromat. I grabbed a cup of coffee and started walking back to the elevator, when disaster struck.
“Oh shit!” I gasped when I saw what I’d done. I’d spilt some of my coffee onto the collar of his shirt. His crisp, new, shiny white shirt that I’d just gone to fetch. “Shit, shit, shit!” I grabbed the shirt and made a run for the women’s bathroom. I had to get this stain out before he noticed.
I threw the door open and let it slam behind me. The loud sound echoed ominously through the bathroom as I turned the tap on and started carefully running a stream of warm water over the stain. I rubbed the fabric between my fingers, but to no bloody avail. It wasn’t coming off. The stain stared up at me, all dark and coffee-like. “Noooo,” I wailed. “Please no!” I grabbed hand soap and carefully started working it into the brown stain which I swear looked like an evil, laughing clown face now.
“No,noooo,noooooo,” I moaned, so loudly that I didn’t hear the bathroom door open. I jumped off the ground when I saw Juniper standing there. I put the shirt behind my back and tried to act natural.
“Hiyyya,” I said, out of breath from my sudden jump.
She eyed me suspiciously. “Are you okay?” she asked.
And then I remembered what she’d said to me.
“No. No, I am not okay. I need your help. Please . . .” I pulled the shirt out from behind my back, and she gasped.
“Is that his?” she asked.
I nodded, and she shook her head furiously.
“Is that a—” She pointed at the shirt, her finger almost trembling.
I nodded again. “Coffee stain. I can’t get it out, and he needs to wear it for his meeting.”
“Oh my God!” Juniper looked horrified. “Jesus . . . Oh. My. God!” Her reaction, bordering on hysterical, only made my panic rise even more.
“Can you help me?” I beseeched her.
She seemed to pause for a moment or two and then looked me square in the face. “I believe I can, Doris, I believe I can.”
“How?” I asked.
“I know where we can find some washing power,” she said solemnly with a firm nod.
“You do?”
