“Such good news! This has been a happy day,” said Moses Khoabane, bursting into the small front room of his house.

Phindile, his wife, looked up with a smile. “What is it, Moses?” She was used to her husband’s enthusiasm for life, his good nature, the smile he greeted each new day with. Even when times were hard, Moses managed to find a bright side to life.

“You’ll never guess who I bumped into on the street today. Right there, as I was walking home.”

“Tell me,” Phindile said. “But sit down first and let me make you a cup of tea.”

“Hot and sweet, Phindi, just like you.”

Phindile smiled. This wasn’t the first time she’d heard the joke and it wouldn’t be the last. But how good it was to have a husband who had eyes only for his wife, who worked hard for his family, who was loved and respected in his workplace, and in the community.

“I am a lucky woman, Moses Khoabane.” She placed a large mug of tea in front of him, then dropped a kiss on the top of his head. “Now tell me, who did you meet?”

“Mpumi! Of all people, Phindi. There he was.”

Phindile frowned. “Mpumi Mokae? I thought he’d gone on to bigger and better things? What’s he doing back here?”

“Well that’s just it, Phindi. He was looking for me. Can you believe it? There’s a job. A good job, and he told his boss that he knew just the man for it. It’s management, office-based. Not just working for our vineyard, but for a consortium – growers, bottlers, distributors. They need someone who knows the ropes; understands the process from the ground up. And that,” Moses laughed, “would be me. Don’t you see, Phindile? This is it. Our lucky break after all these years of sweating it out.”

“So you’d be working in an office?” Phindile’s voice was uncertain. “But Moses, you only have one suit.” It hung in the cupboard in their bedroom and was seldom taken out – just for funerals and weddings, and the occasional formal meal that the workers were invited to.

“Phindi, my darling. With the sort of salary Mpumi was talking about, I’ll be able to buy a new suit for every day of the week, including Sundays!”

Moses was so happy, Phindile didn’t want to burst his bubble. Later, when it had all settled down, they could talk about what a job like this might mean. What would be expected of him.

Moses looked around the small front room: the lounge suite rubbing shoulders with the table pushed up against the wall, an imaginary line dividing the kitchen from the rest of the living space. “We can move, Phindi. To a bigger house. I can give you all you deserve.”

“Moses, my love,” Phindile said as she stood and put her arms around him, “I have all I deserve. You, the kids, our home, our neighbours. I don’t expect you to buy me anything more.”

“Buy? Who’s talking about buying?” Thuli burst into the rom. A tall girl, she had inherited her mother’s slender good looks and her father’s joy for living. “I’m first in line, Daddy. You know, for my iPod and iPad and iPhone.”

“Oh yes, my daughter.” Moses smiled at his older child. “And should I book you a cruise on an ocean liner while I am about it?”

“After Matric, Daddy. After Matric. When I’ve got my seven As.”

“And then, medical school,” Phindile said with a laugh. “The cruise will have to wait until Doctor Thuli Khoabane has completed her degree.”

“So, what’s all the excitement?” Thuli reached over and pulled the fruit bowl towards her. She crunched into an apple and looked at her parents. “And more importantly, what’s for supper?” (‘The child has a metabolism like a race horse’, Phindile always said. ‘She burns fuel faster than she can eat it!’)

Moses told her about the meeting with Mpumi.

“Isn’t he the one you were so friendly with at school?” Thuli asked. “The one you haven’t seen in years?”

“That’s him,” Moses said. “But you know, Thuli, this just goes to show. Old friendships never die. Old bonds are strong. Oh – and I forgot. He wants us all to go over to their house for a braai. Sunday lunchtime, he said. We’ll have a few drinks, catch up on old times.”

“Sunday?” Thuli said. “But Dad, I have–”

“Whatever you have planned, can you cancel it for me, my girl? This is very important. Mpumi wants to meet my family and we’ll meet his. His wife’s name is Portia, and they have one child. A boy. About the same age as you.”

Moses’s face was alive with excitement and hope.

“Sure, Dad.” Thuli stood up and patted his shoulder. “It’s just a study session with Anele and Nomsa. I’ll change the time.”

*****

In the study of Mpumi Mokae.

Mpumi is on his phone, talking in a low voice.

We only hear his side of the conversation.

• Yes, yes. I’m sure. I met him in the street, sir.

• No, he didn’t suspect anything. I told you he’s naïve. He’d never expect–

• Well, that’s just it, sir. He thinks I’m his friend. He trusts me.

• Yes, sir. As you suggested. On Sunday, for lunch.

Mpumi Mokae walks to the door and calls out:

• Portia. Cancel any plans we already have for Sunday. We’re having a small braai.

*****

Three days later, Moses, Phindile, Thuli and Sandile drove to the suburb where Mpumi lived. Each house looked bigger and grander than the last and Mpumi’s, what they could see of it through the wrought-iron gate, looked the biggest and grandest of them all.

Moses opened his window and pressed the button on the intercom at the gate.

“Moses,” Mpumi’s voice crackled out. “Great. Come in.”

The tall gates swung open slowly and Moses drove their shiny, clean, but very old Toyota Corolla up the driveway.

“Whoa. Your friend must have some serious money, Daddy,” Sandile said.

***

Tell us what you think: What has Mpumi got planned for Moses?