Penguin Random House has shared an excerpt from In the Late of Night by Ntombi Nkabinde!

In the Late of Night is a witty, heartwarming and deeply relatable South African novel about friendship, romance and the messy, beautiful journey of figuring it all out.

Nkabinde is a psychometrist, with degrees in psychology and psychometrics from Unisa and the University of Johannesburg. A Johannesburg native, she loves books and a great cup of coffee. When she’s not consumed by the plot twists of her current read, she blogs about spirituality and submits short stories to literary magazines. In the Late of Night is her first novel.

About the book

Four thirty-something girlfriends navigate the complexities of love and life in upmarket Johannesburg.

Nomzamo yearns to have her own child, but her husband keeps postponing. Is he truly too busy or is something else going on?

Kioni is in seventh heaven when Michael finally wants to commit. But does he really? Or is he just trying to get back into her bed?

Single mom Jazmine has sworn off love – until a charming new doctor arrives at her hospital, testing her resolve.

And Asanda, fiercely independent and at the top of her game, is determined to find the perfect man to match her perfect life.

As their lives twist and tangle in unexpected ways, these four women will discover that love is never simple – but always worth it.

Read an excerpt:

~~~

One

Nomzamo

I wake up in the afternoon to a total mess. Chris’s clothes, socks and shoes are all over the floor like he has a maid or something. The only thing that’s important to him is that precious company I helped him build … oh, and his appearance, of course. Just because I’m a housewife doesn’t mean I’m a robot. I get tired too.

I drag myself out of bed and walk to the kitchen with an aching body and a headache to match. These days, I hardly know if I’m coming or going.

It feels as if my life is happening to me and all I do is watch from the sidelines. My memory seems to be deteriorating too. I put on the kettle and rummage in the fridge, when it hits me: damn, I forgot to rsvp for the art gallery opening tonight at Nelson Mandela Square. Knowing Chris, he’ll have my head on a plate if we’re denied entry. It’s all he’s talked about since we got the invite. Luckily, my best friend, Kioni, knows the event organiser. I’ll have to call in a favour before Chris gets home.

I grab a slab of Lindt out of the cupboard. On the fridge is a photograph of Chris and me, smiling on our wedding day.

Nomzamo and Christopher Khoza. Shame, we were so happy. We met at university many moons ago when I was still starry eyed and naive. His dark, smouldering good looks turned heads all around campus and every girl wanted him – including me. He’s older now but he still looks good. The way he dresses, you’d swear he’s going to a GQ shoot every morning when he leaves for work.

My husband looks after himself. He goes to the gym most days of the week and only eats red meat once or twice a month. He doesn’t smoke or touch a drop of alcohol or eat junk food, and as his wife, I’m supposed to adhere to the same standards. He’d have a heart attack if he saw me eating chocolate.

My phone rings and I grab it.

‘Bestie!’ yells Kioni, almost bursting my eardrums.

‘I was just thinking about you, funnily enough,’ I grin.

‘Lesley tells me your name is not on the guest list tonight. Don’t tell me you’re not coming?’ Kioni says.

‘Friend, I must tell you, I completely forgot about it,’ I say, massaging my forehead. ‘It must’ve slipped my mind.’

‘Brave of you to think you stand a chance getting in this late! What’s your plan?’

‘Well … that’s where you come in,’ I smile, even though she can’t see me.

‘Excuse you?’

‘Pleeeease, Kiki?’ I ask. ‘You know Chris will have a heart attack if we can’t get in. He’s been looking forward to this stupid event all week.’

Kioni sucks on her teeth. ‘Rafiki, I really don’t know where your head is these days. You forget about our dates, and when you do turn up, you seem to be in your own world. Wat a gwaan?’

I don’t say anything, so she continues.

‘You haven’t started doing weed again, have you?’

‘Weed!’ I yelp. ‘How could you even ask me that?’

‘Well, you smoked so much of it at varsity,’ she says, laughing while I frown. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if you started indulging again.’

‘That was a long time ago. People change.’

‘There must be something bothering you, though. You haven’t been yourself in weeks. I hope that good-for-nothing husband of yours isn’t cheating again, is he?’

My heart skips a beat.

‘No,’ I protest, and after a pause say, ‘Why do you have to go there? Remind me to never tell you my business again.’

‘I remember how you were the last time you found out about his …’ – she clears her throat – ‘extra-curricular activities.’

‘Shut up, Kioni! You’re evil,’ I say through gritted teeth. ‘Chris and I are fine, and if you do the right thing, we’ll see you tonight.’

She snickers on her end, and I roll my eyes and swivel around to rest my elbow on the dining-room table, where a glass of water has been sitting since this morning.

‘Anyway, have you talked to the other girls?’ I ask, yearning for another piece of chocolate. ‘We all have to meet soon. It’s been a while.’

‘I know, right? But you know there’s one face I’m not keen to see.’

I sigh deeply. ‘You and Asanda need to figure things out, and soon.’

‘Ms Twang will have to apologise to me first.’

‘You both need to apologise to each other for your stupid high-school behaviour. How old are you again?’

‘Young at heart,’ she says before chuckling quietly. ‘Anyhoo,’ she continues, ‘I know Jazmine is tired and overworked, wherever she is.’

‘Friend, what’s new? I hope those kids of hers are behaving themselves.’

‘I can bet you a million rand – which I don’t have – they aren’t.’

We cackle away before she goes silent and seems to be talking to someone else on her end.

‘I have to run,’ she tells me. ‘My boss wants to speak to me. I’ll see you tonight. Come dressed to kill.’

I catch sight of my phone’s screensaver: a picture of me and Chris at the beach on Réunion Island last year. Kioni’s right – I haven’t been okay since I started suspecting that Chris was cheating again.

He arrived home one night three weeks ago and made a beeline for the shower without even a hello. I picked up his shirt from the bedroom floor where he’d chucked it for his maid slash wife to deal with. I kept my eyes on his silhouette as he stood in the shower and sniffed his shirt all over. Yes, there was an undeniable and distinctive scent on it. I knew I had smelt it before, and it definitely wasn’t his. I grabbed my cellphone from the side table and went to call Kioni from the kitchen. She never steps out of her apartment wearing the same fragrance she wore the day before. She thinks of herself as a fragrance connoisseur and can tell you the name of the perfume you’re wearing from a single whiff.

It was a fragrance she once wore, and I loved it the second I smelt it on her. She told me Michael bought it for her, which annoyed me: it’s an open secret that I don’t like that guy. Anyway, she told me the name of the fragrance over the phone, and we said our goodnights. I watched Chris closely after that and every time he came home late, that fragrance lingered behind him.

‘Who is she?’ I confronted him one night when he got home late and missed dinner.

As educated as he is, he had the audacity to play stupid with me.

‘Huh?’ he said. ‘What are you on about now?’

‘Don’t make me out as some paranoid wife, Chris. You know what I’m talking about,’ I shouted sitting on our bed.

‘No, I don’t,’ he said, putting on his sleep shorts. ‘Why don’t you spell it out to me?’ He sighed and got into bed.

‘This!’ I shouted, throwing his shirt at him.

A few seconds elapsed.

‘My shirt?’ he asked, furrowing his eyebrows. ‘All this crap is about my shirt?’

I told him the name of the fragrance on the shirt and watched his body language closely.

He didn’t flinch. ‘Am I supposed to know what that means?’

‘It’s a female fragrance, Chris.’

‘Yah, so?’ he said nonchalantly.

‘Yah, so?’ I said in disbelief. ‘Yah, so what’s it doing on your shirt?’

He sighed and looked up at the ceiling.

‘Who is she?’ I asked again, my hands in fists. ‘And what was she doing that close to you?’

‘Look, Nomzamo,’ he said, fluffing his pillow before lying down. ‘I work with women all day. I’m an affectionate man. I hug them once in a while. It’s not a crime.’

I started fuming. ‘Well, you must have hugged one female in particular very close today because I can smell her all over that shirt.’

‘Here we go again with that bullshit. I’m tired of your insecurities, Zamo. When are you going to start trusting me?’

‘When you become trustworthy,’ I answered, folding my hands on my lap.

‘I don’t have time for this. I’m going to bed,’ he said and rolled over onto one side before switching his lamp off. ‘Some of us work for a living,’ he muttered under his breath.

I sat there, my head resting against the headboard, with more questions than I had started with. He fell asleep and started snoring almost immediately. I wanted to grab a pillow and make him see the bright light right then and there. But my sanity won.

I’m pulled back to the present by the sound of the garage door opening.

Dammit, he’s early!

My eyes travel down to my hands: I’m still holding the chocolate wrapper. I fly past the living room and run to the kitchen to stuff the Lindt wrapper way down in the rubbish bin. I race for the bedroom but stop in the living room to wipe a water mark from the table. Chris will have a fit if he sees it. I place a coaster over the mark, then run to the bedroom.

His footsteps approach.

‘Hey,’ he greets unenthusiastically, finding me on my way to the shower.

‘Hi, Chris,’ I say, acting surprised. ‘I didn’t hear you come in.’

He mumbles something I don’t quite catch.

‘How was your day?’ I ask.

‘Same,’ he answers simply, taking his tie off before looking in the mirror. ‘Nothing special.’

‘Why don’t you get in the shower with me? It’ll save us plenty of time and water.’

He looks me up and down. ‘I don’t think so. I have to send a few emails before we go. I’ll come in when you’re done.’

~~~

• Keep reading: Penguin Random House SA

Categories Fiction South Africa

Tags Book excerpts Book extracts In the Late of Night Ntombi Nkabinde Penguin Random House SA