The Children of the House
Copyright© 2026 by AjnViper
Chapter 5: The Guest List
Mara wanted eighty guests. Willem wanted twelve. Adrian wanted one hundred and twenty, provided none of them were permitted to choose the wine.
“It is not your wedding,” Mara reminded him.
“That is why I can approach it rationally.”
They sat around the long table in the old management room with lists spread between them. The room had once been used by people trying to keep a failing shopping centre alive. Mara liked it because the windows looked over the courtyard and because no one had converted it into a command centre.
Willem had still brought a security map.
“Put that away,” she said.
“It is the guest entrance.”
“Today it is a list of names.”
“I need to know which guests will use which gate.”
Lena took the map from him and placed it on the floor beside her chair.
Willem looked at her.
“Mara asked,” Lena said.
He allowed it.
Elias had contributed nineteen names. Six worked for him. Two were lawyers. One was his accountant.
Mara read the list again. “Your accountant is not family.”
“He knows more about me than most relatives know about one another.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“It may be better.”
She drew a line through the name.
“I like him,” Elias said.
“Then invite him because you like him.”
Elias took the pen and wrote the name back beneath FRIENDS.
Abram watched this with interest. “You made a separate category.”
“Apparently I have one.”
“Am I on it?” Abram asked, leaning far enough to read upside down.
“You were until you asked for confirmation.” Elias turned the list towards him. Abram found his name and sat back.
Mara’s family occupied most of two pages. A sister in George. A brother outside Bloemfontein. Nieces, nephews, cousins and one aunt who had not spoken to another aunt since a funeral in 2009. Mara insisted both would attend.
“They can behave for one afternoon,” she said.
Willem retrieved his map. “Should I keep them apart?”
“Not with a security map. Put it down.”
Willem put it down. “I only meant at the tables.”
News of the engagement had not been announced publicly. It had still escaped. A jeweller knew. Dr Naidoo knew. Mara’s sister had known for twenty minutes before calling three other people. Staff required dates. Suppliers noticed provisional bookings. Adrian told no one, which meant only the sort of people who always knew what Adrian had not told them began making inquiries.
The first unusual request came from Prince Kofi. He did not ask directly. A formal letter congratulated Elias and Mara, wished health upon the coming child, and stated that the prince would consider it an honour to witness the union should the household judge his presence appropriate.
Willem read it once. “No.”
Mara took it from him. “I did not ask you.”
“You would have.”
“Eventually.”
Elias said, “He may attend.”
Willem stared at him. “With how many?”
“That is a different question.”
“It is the only question.”
Adrian examined the paper. “He has asked very well.”
“It’s very careful,” Lena said. “Does it actually say he’ll come without conditions?”
The second request came from the woman who had once owned the bridal shop in the old centre. She was seventy-three, lived in Gqeberha, and had seen a photograph of the restored building sent by a former tenant. Her letter was written by hand.
She did not ask to attend the wedding. She asked whether she might see the old shop once more before it was changed beyond recognition.
Mara added her to the list.
“You have not met her,” Willem said.
“Then vet her.”
“That is what I am trying to—”
“Quietly.”
The third request did not pretend to be social. Ruth Harland, the surveillance director from the broker, wanted to meet Elias and Abram about the estate trading company. Her note stated again that no prohibited activity had been identified. The repeated assurance made Willem trust it less.
“She is not attending,” he said.
“She did not ask to attend,” Abram replied.
Adrian tapped the final paragraph. Harland would be in Johannesburg the following week and would appreciate an opportunity to meet at Elias’s convenience.
“She has asked,” Adrian said.
“For a meeting.”
“Near a wedding. Polite people often stand beside the door they hope will open.”
Mara said, “Give her an appointment next week. She can have all afternoon if that keeps this out of the wedding.”
Willem wrote her name on a separate page headed EXTERNAL ATTENTION.
The fourth request came in an envelope with no return address.
Inside was a card cut from heavy cream paper. There was no greeting and no signature beyond one initial and a surname.
Your father once kept me alive. I ask one seat.
A. Venter
Elias read it twice. The room lost interest in the other lists. Mara reached for the card. He gave it to her.
“Do you know the handwriting?” she asked.
“No.”
“The name?”
“No.”
Willem took the envelope by its edge. “How did it arrive?”
“Ordinary post,” Lena said. She had checked the outer markings. “Processed in Pretoria.”
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