“Where are we going again?” I lean over to ask my best mate, Cynthia.  “Book Club, Tatum,” she answers, “Shhhhh!” Our stiletto heels and her secretive hiss echoes down the long dark, brick alley, deep into the Cape Quarter. If Cynth hadn’t been with me, I’m not sure I would have been this brave. 7.30 at night, in the middle of July. Dodgy flickering lights over the doorway entrances, only adds to the shadows. “It feels very Goth babe, who lives here? Are you sure I shouldn’t have stopped at the shops for some muffins or wine?” I find myself...

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