Cherry Marbles. Shukie Nkosana
in. Sweet dreams.” Nandi headed for the spare room.
Two thoughts simultaneously came into Langa’s head as she watched her sister’s retreating figure in disbelief: the first that her microwave wasn’t storage for uneaten suppers and the second renewed regret about abandoning the Black Forest cake earlier. Langa ate her supper alone, mentally going over her hectic schedule for the next day. She resisted the temptation to phone Zandile to ensure the success of her company’s two upcoming events.
When she went to bed, Langa ignored the melancholic voice bleating from Nandi’s iPod as she went past the spare room to her own room; she needed strength for the challenges that lay ahead with her sister.
The next day both events flopped.
At one venue the mobile toilet company Buthelezi Events had contracted didn’t turn up and at the other the caterers had stored coleslaw in aluminium dishes overnight, so that everyone who scoffed down the salad in question got food poisoning!
Later at home, Langa’s prayer group turned up faithfully, each member with at least two eager conquests, resulting in a gathering of saints whom Langa hadn’t prepared for and after her day was too flustered to have fellowship with. That evening she crawled into bed with a pounding head, hesitant to check her emails though fully aware that she couldn’t put it off eternally. Her phone hadn’t stopped ringing since the afternoon; each time she picked it up, more humiliation descended on her as she apologised to her enraged clients.
Seeing an email from Andre Zanier, junior MD of Sasol Wax, Langa recoiled and felt her stomach turn. The last thing she needed was more bad news. She clicked the email open, unable to breath.
“Yay!” she suddenly screamed, jumping out of bed to do a victory dance in her nighty as soon as she’d read the first line. Had they been present, the visitors from earlier would have been shocked at her sudden rebound of energy; she’d barely been awake as they’d welcomed Jesus into her house!
Langa called Zandile and Naledi, and only then she sat down on her bed, panting while scrutinising the contract that Mr Zanier had attached. She needed to be at Sasol Wax the next morning to officially sign it and then start the rigorous process of planning this year’s In-Cosmetics Exhibition. Langa knelt down and said a prayer of thanksgiving. She asked for God’s continued guidance and praised Him for His presence in her life.
Afterwards she went over the contract for what felt like hours before snapping her laptop shut with a bemused expression at the sudden realisation that she would see Regile again. What should she wear?
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