Chapter 11: A Touch of Class

…continued from 20 May 2026...

Only years after her Ma’s death did Elaine realise that it was those same squalid conditions that was the cause of the misery of most of the Coloured inhabitants on the Cape Flats. Thanks to a scholarship after high school, Elaine was lucky to be enrolled in the University of the Western Cape where she majored in Political Science and Town Planning. She had vowed to do something to help the people of the Flat Lands, her people.

Ma always used to give her a Marie Biscuit to enjoy with her tea and even now she continued the custom. Putting the roll of biscuits back in her desk drawer, she punched the button on her phone and heard her secretary say:

“Ms Wakefield has arrived.”

“Thank you, send her in please.”

“Good morning, Ms Pecker.”

“Please, call me Elaine.”

“Thank you for agreeing to see me at such short notice,” Natasha said

Elaine knew all about Natasha and from what she saw now, she believed the reputation Natasha had earned as a professional hardworking and ambitious individual.

Natasha on the other hand immediately recognised the power and ambition in Elaine. The eyes were extremely focused and did not break contact when they spoke. Elaine had the distinct savvy of a woman who was doing battle in a man’s world, and was winning. Natasha knew that look, because she possessed it too.

“My request to see you is somewhat unorthodox Elaine.” Natasha began.

“Yes.”

“Let me get to the point. I have been approached by a long-term client and successful local businessman who would like to have a private meeting with you with a view to make a considerable donation. My client is aware of the implications and while he has requested complete anonymity until the meeting, he is willing to be transparent should he decide to go ahead and make the donation.”

Elaine’s eyes strayed for a moment. She glanced over Natasha’s head and out of the window. Small beads of rain had begun to form on the window and the clouds outside had become swollen with dark moisture.

“Ms Wakefield,” Elaine began, her eyes darted back to Natasha’s and locked on. “While I appreciate the need for secrecy and let me add, that your reputation as a professional precedes you, I am afraid I would have to insist on knowing the name of the person before I can agree to the meeting. Needless to say, that information will remain between you and I.”

Again, Natasha had expected this and had already confirmed with Johan that she could give her the information as long as it guaranteed the meeting.

“I understand,” said Natasha. “Elaine, the man who wants to meet with you, in private, is Johan Baatjies.”

Elaine felt her stomach tighten in a knot of excitement. The elusive Johan Baatjies! Without another thought she said to Natasha:

“Arrange it and call me on my private line to confirm the details, good day Ms Wakefield.”

Somewhat startled by Elaine’s abruptness, Natasha shook her hand and left her office quickly.

Elaine spun her chair around, now facing the window behind her and idly watched the tiny drops of moisture pool until they became heavy enough to scuttle down the length of the pane. The tiny drops were appearing more frequently now. She heard the door close as Natasha left and she exhaled calmly. “So, Mr Baatjies wants to make a donation, how very interesting,” she said out loud.

Johan arranged for a car to collect Elaine. He had reservations for two at Casa del Africa, an Italian-Ethiopian fusion restaurant which catered for the seriously affluent. Just three weeks ago it was rumoured that England’s Prince Harry and wife, the Duchess of Sussex, Meghan Markle, had dined there. But when confronted by the news, the manager of the restaurant declined to comment, quoting the restaurant’s strict policy of privacy for its patrons. This was the reason Johan chose to dine there tonight.

Elaine was a little nervous with excitement at the prospect of meeting with Johan. She wore an informal business suit which oozed understated boss-lady energy. Johan was dressed in a charcoal two-piece suit, white shirt and plain dark blue silk tie.

The manager of the restaurant met him at the door.

“Good evening, sir, welcome to Casa del Africa, may I take your jacket?”

“Good evening, no thank you, I’ll hold on to it,” Johan replied courteously.

“Of course, sir,” said the manager, an Italian-Ethiopian with an amusing accent.

“Would you like to go through to your table directly? Or could I interest you in a pre-dinner drink at the bar?”

“Thanks, I’ll have a Suntory Single Malt on the rocks, but bring it to my table, I am sure my guest will be along any moment now.”

Two minutes later the manager beamed wide again when he opened the door for Elaine.

Remembering the recent newspaper article, the manager turned up the charm full tilt.

“It is indeed an honour Ms Pecker, welcome to Casa del Africa, your host has arrived.”

“Thank you,” said Elaine as the manager escorted her to the table.

Johan put down his whisky and got up from the chair to greet Elaine. And after the brief handshake he beat the manager to pulling out her chair for her to sit down.

Elaine ordered a glass of chardonnay, which arrived, seemingly seconds later.

“Thank you for agreeing to the meeting,” Johan began.

Continued tomorrow 22 May 2026, before 12pm