Recipes for Love and Murder. Sally Andrew

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      CHAPTER FIVE

      Sjoe, but it was hot and those cold recipes looked good. But there were still two unopened letters on my table. The letters did not call as loud as the frozen bananas.

      ‘I’m going to work from home,’ I told Hattie. ‘I need to test some recipes.’

      ‘Mhmm,’ she said.

      She had a pencil in her mouth and was frowning as she worked.

      ‘Hattie, what time is Saturday’s fête?’ asked Jessie.

      Jessie was at her desk, taking a little notebook out of one of her pouches.

      ‘Fiddlesticks,’ said Hattie, pressing buttons on her computer. ‘Hmm? Two p.m.’

      I stood up, the letters in my hand.

      ‘It’s important the recipes are good.’ I said. ‘Irresistible.’

      Hattie looked up from her work.

      ‘Maria, darling. Go.’

      My little bakkie was parked a few trees away from the office, beside Jessie’s red scooter. We tried to stay a bit of a distance from Hattie’s Toyota Etios; I already had one ding she had made on the door of my van. My Nissan 1400 bakkie was pale blue – like the Karoo sky early in the morning. With a canopy that was white like those small puffy clouds. Though the canopy was usually more dusty than the clouds. I’d left all the windows open, and it was in the shade of a jacaranda tree, but it was still baking hot in there. It really was a day for ice cream.

      I popped in at the Spar to pick up the ingredients. It was a quiet time of day so I was lucky to get out of there with only chatting to three people. Not that I mind chatting. It’s just that those sweet cool dishes were calling to me quite loudly, so I couldn’t listen properly.

      I could smell the ripe mangoes as I drove past the farmlands, through the open veld and between the low brown hills. I turned into the dirt road that goes towards my house, drove past the eucalyptus trees and parked in my driveway, next to the lavender. Two brown chickens were lying in the shade of the geranium bush; they didn’t get up to say hello.

      I went into the kitchen and plonked my grocery bag on the big wooden table, then straightaway peeled six bananas and put them in a Tupperware in the freezer. Then I chopped four mangoes and put them in the freezer too. I stood over the sink to eat the flesh off the mango skins and suck their sticky pips clean. It was a messy business.

      Then I crushed the hazelnuts with my wooden pestle and mortar and lightly toasted them in a pan. I tasted them while they were warm. I broke the chocolate up and put it in a double boiler. I would do the melting when the bananas were frozen. I tasted the dark chocolate. I ate some together with the nuts just to check the combination. Then I prepared some more nuts and chocolate to make up for all the testing. It would take a couple of hours for the bananas and mangoes to freeze. How was I going to wait that long? My letters. I had brought back my two letters from work.

      I decided to take them outside so I could focus without distractions. I sat on the shady stoep and opened one. It was from a little girl who liked a boy and didn’t know how to make friends with him. I gave her a nice easy fridge fudge recipe. Little boys never say no to fudge.

      The next letter I opened said: Oh hell, I’m such a total idiot. Please tear up that last letter. If my husband ever sees or hears about it . . . I’m a fool. Please don’t publish it. Destroy it. I beg you.

      What last letter? What was she afraid of? I looked at the postmark on the envelope. Ladismith. The date was two days ago. I phoned the Gazette, and got Jessie.

      ‘Hey, Tannie M,’ she said.

      ‘Did I leave a letter on my desk?’ I asked.

      ‘Hang on, I’ll check.’

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