But no.
‘Did you know that in 1982 she played Anna inDie Klein Dorpie?’
‘The what now?’ I’d never heard of it. Translated from Afrikaans to English, she’d saidThe Small Town.
I could see the exasperation on Philly’s face, but I also knew she secretlylovededucating me on all things soapie.
‘Dorpiewas South Africa’s first ever soap opera, and Sharaz was only twenty years old when she played the pastor’s niece who came to live with her aunt and uncle in the small town. She came from the big city after her mother and father died in a freak avalanche.’
‘Mmm.’ I nodded, trying to figure out where exactly in any of South Africa’s big cities there was a mountain that might cause such a thing. I braced myself for what I knew was about to come.
‘So . . .’ Philly leaned forward conspiratorially, as if she was telling me gossip about a neighbour. ‘Sharaz’s character Anna fell in love with her cousin, who she’d never met before, and they started havinga secret affair. But when she fell pregnant, her aunt and uncle found out, and they were so ashamed that they killed her and buried her in the field behind their farm.’
‘Wow, real family viewing.’ I blinked at her. This sounded more like a true-crime podcast.
‘But wait, there’s more. The best part was when Anna’s ghost came back to haunt them and drove her aunt insane. It was brilliant! She was constantly moving stuff around the house, putting things in different places, slamming doors and making weird noises, until her aunt went mad and was locked up in an asylum, where the doctors started using her in these brainwashing experiments.’
I nodded again. ‘Sounds fascinating.’
‘It was! And Sharaz was amazing. It even launched her career as a singer, because in the special Christmas show, just before she was murdered, she sang in the church, and as luck would have it, a music producer happened to be watching and signed her to his label.’
‘You know a lot about her.’
‘Well, I’ve been following her career for forty years. I just can’t believe that husband of hers is cheating on her. You have to get this guy, Liz.’
I smiled at her. ‘I always do!’
‘But you need to start packing, and you need a cover story. It’s not usual for a woman your age to be staying in a romantic destination alone. It would be so much better if you had a man on your arm.’
‘Rent-A-Gent. I’ll just give them a call and ask them to send one over.’
Philly rolled her eyes at me. ‘So sarcastic.’
‘I thought you said it was endearing?’
‘Only in small doses. And your cover story?’
I sat back in my chair and thought for a while. ‘Jilted bride left at the altar decides to go on her honeymoon alone.’
This elicited another eye-roll from Philly. ‘So cynical. You know one day you’re going to fall head over heels in love with someone.’
‘Head over heels is not my style.’
‘I know. Surrounding your heart with barbed wire and a twenty-foot wall is more your thing.’
‘Exactly.’ I locked eyes with her. ‘But with some of the things I’ve seen, I could argue that motion-activated laser beams and well-trained Dobermanns are also needed.’
‘Deflecting with sarcasm and wit, too.’ Philly sighed long and loud. ‘You know, behind that prickly exterior of yours, there’s a well of love waiting to come out.’
This time I felt a small pang of something inside, but quickly pushed it down. ‘Wells dry up, especially when people take more than they give.’
‘Didn’t Spock fall in love and have a wife?’ she asked.
‘It was an arranged marriage,’ I said, hating it when she tried to school me with references from my favouriteTVshow. Yes, I was a Trekkie and not afraid to admit it. Yes, I regularly went toStar Trekconventions, and yes, I might own one, maybe two uniforms, a Klingon bat’leth and possibly even a tricorder that could be used as a two-way radio.
I looked at Philly and raised my brows. ‘I need to pack.’
She jumped off her chair. ‘Great, I’ll help you. But first, we need to go shopping.’
