Hush Hush

Prologue

Nobody lived in flat number six. As far as we were aware, it was empty. The date was June 2018 and my husband and I had moved in almost two months ago. We had bought flat number five, and were quite content to live in it - it was a neat cosy little apartment with a kitchen, a bedroom, a bathroom and one room which merged the living and dining spaces. Not to mention, it came cheap and was only a ten minute walk from the train station. Sure, the wallpaper was a little fuddy-duddy, and the kitchen designing was a little seventies, but with a bit of paintwork and a few trips to the furniture store, we would hopefully make it work. The little outer Joburg neighbourhood was appealing, too. It was the kind of idyllic suburban places where there was enough traffic on the streets to reassure you that you ain’t in the middle of nowhere, and there was little enough traffic to let you get to sleep soundly. The high street had everything, too - a doctor's surgery, an optician's, a dentist, and a Tesco supermarket. At any rate, we were feeling nicely settled in by the end of two months, and had high expectations of our new life in Bruma. You see we came over from Eastern Cape and in spite of the fact that the Bruma people mostly speak the English language, there were aspects of living over there that were entirely alien to us. It was home, but yet it wasn't quite home.

The weather was also something of an issue- not a disappointment, though, as we had had a great deal of forewarning about the clouds and the rain that sometimes fill Joburg's skies in the automn and most times of the year.

Perhaps now I had to turn the focus back to our new home. Ours was number five out of six flats which belonged to a tidy apartment block with the name 'Gretel Cottage'. Apparently it was once a cottage before they turned it to apartments but the name reigned. It was situated midway along a street which held a mix of detached houses, blocks of flats, and even a few guesthouses.

Gretel Cottage had three levels to it : on the ground floor the hallway led to flat 1 on one side and flat 2 on the other, on the first floor flat 3 shared the landing with flat 4, and like wise flat 5 shared the second floor's landing with, well- with flat 6. There were no other levels. In our first week there, we had taken time to get to know the resident’s of the other flats- rather, they had taken their time and come upstairs and greet us. They were a friendly lot, for the most part.

There was a Ms.Miggins in flat number 4, a Mr.Smith in number 3, a Frenchwomen in number 1 and one other fellow in flat number 2.

Remarkably, not one of them could have been younger than sixty-five. I was twenty-five and my husband was twenty-eight. Yes, I guess we did feel a little out of key with our neighbours. They never seemed to go out unless for groceries, and that was seldom. We went out daily.

"Am I ever going to get a job Paul?" I asked my husband as he was on his feet, wearing his shoes. He was preparing for work. It was not a fancy job but it paid the bills. He worked as a supervisor at a construction company in Benoni so he was always travelling from and to work in a train.

"I told you to be patient. Everything will work out, " he assured me. It has been almost two months since we moved this side but I still haven't gotten a job. Back at home, I used to work as a cashier in Pick N' Pay but had to quit my job when Paul got the job he applied for. I long wanted to move far away from home due to many reasons. Paul being one of the reason's.

"Let me fix you a breakfast before you get late" I got up from the bed to the bathroom and brushed my teeth.

"Baby have you noticed how cold the sitting room is since we got here?" his sweet yet strong cologne filled the bathroom. He was right, I haven't given it much thought but now that he has mentioned, it made perfect sense. The whole house was cold but the sitting room was the coldest. I wondered why, it just baffled me.

"Yes i did. It must be because the winter is not entirely over. I'm hopeful it won't be this cold next month,” I walked to the kitchen passed the sitting room, getting goose bumps as the cold atmosphere fanned my face. The bread was hot and fresh, out from the oven. My eyes fell to the fridge.

"Paul, did you leave the fridge opened yesterday?" I asked as I saw the fridge slightly open, it must have been Paul who left it like this. Can you believe he once left his cousin’s 2 year old girl in a taxi? Or that he forgot his wedding day and arrived two hours later at church? I know, I nearly caught a case that one time. I had to fetch him in my wedding gown in the neighbouring town. He still apologizes for that till today.

"No I didn't," his voice echoed from the bedroom. That was weird, if he hadn’t then who did? Paul was probably lying avoiding being shouted at by me. He's got this habit of leaving thing unattended. So he must have been the one who left it opened. I just took out the cheese and polony, filled the kettle with water.

"Lindi have you seen my bag?" he asked, his eyes roamed around trying to spot his work bag. He always does this, I was not surprised that he was looking for it. Every Friday he would just throw his bag anywhere he see fit, then come Monday he will be running around like a headless chicken. Then me, as his PA would put it in a good place, where it would be easy to locate it.

"Paul how many times have I told you to put your bag well?" He pulled the chair back along with his breakfast.

"I promise I will listen this time around, please look for it while I eat. Or I will be late. You know how unpredictable a train can be" The sincerity could be heard from his voice, it warmed my heart. He indulged his ‘daily bread’. Well trains are not reliable transport mode to use. They can stuck for a good thirty minutes or less maybe more. It's worse that they constantly stop at every stop.

"Paul you did not pray"

"I shall pray after eating, go now"

I left him to take his work bag from the sitting room. It was on the table near the window. I grabbed the bag and looked out the window. Something weird happened. The curtain was moving as if blown by wind, except the windows were closed. Maybe I was overanalysing things, I do suffer from paranoia.

"Here...leave now or your the train will depart without you" His bag always felt heavy than the last day, today was no exception.

"Thanks love, have yourself a good day."

I sat down with a huff, folding my arms. It was just me and my thoughts.

-

Later in the day, I went to Ms.Miggins like I always do when i'm bored and have finished doing the house duties. She was a white old women I loved hanging out with since I came here. She was one wise woman and knew half of the things that take place around. We would sit in her kitchen, gossip while drinking tea for hours.

"Ms.Miggins" I knocked repeatedly. She had the biggest apartment of them all. How she affords to pay the rent beats me.

"Rose, come on in," she replied, rather enthusiastic than usual. Rose? Old age was creeping in, in her mind. Lily, her scary creepy cat was also there, next to her welcoming me in too. How could she give it a beautiful name like that? Lily was suppose to be white or colourful and it was neither of those things. I hated it, I hated cats, very much. We know how we use cats for our ungodly things. It was even worse because back at home when our neighbours cat appeared it would start making a face I can't comprehend then growl. But since I came to live here I had no choice but to adapt to Ms.Miggins life. She loved her creepy cat like it was her baby, maybe it was.

"I was just boiling water for tea," she took out two cups from the cupboard. At first I found Ms.Miggins weird and creepy. Her eye colour were the same as the cat's eyes. She would sometimes whirr almost like she was in pain or having trouble breathing. But she assured me not to be afraid after seeing how frightened I was. I finally got used to her different self.

"Ms.Miggins I hope you slept well,"

"I did, and yourself?" she asked holding tight to her cup. Whenever her teeth would get in touch with the cup they would scratch and make a low sound, but I haven't asked her about it. I mean we all drink tea differently.

"I have. I've been meaning to ask. Our house is so cold, just like yours. Do you know why is that?" I asked, looking up at her with confused eyes.

"No, I don't." She tensed “Let’s talk about you instead, don’t you want a baby?”

“A baby…” I said, stiffly. That was a very sensitive topic for me, a topic I’d rather not divulge into.

“Yes, you’re young and married. What are you waiting for?” She wouldn’t let go even after seeing my discomfort.

“The right time. We’re waiting for the right time.” I said glumly

Well I’m black, my husband is a coloured . Let me introduce myself well I'm Lindiswa Griffiths married to Paul Griffiths.

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