by Sally Andrew
He leaned down and put his elbow in.
‘No,’ he said, ‘it just feels hot because you’re so cold. But I’ll cool it down and you can add hot when you’re in.’
He added cold water then he took the kudu skin off me. He did not take his shirt back.
‘I’ll be just outside,’ he said. ‘If you need me.’
He left and closed the bathroom door. I took his shirt from my shoulders and held it to my face and breathed in his smell. Then I put the shirt on the laundry basket and tried to undo the buttons on my pale blue dress, but my hands just couldn’t get it right. I tried to lift the dress over my head but that was worse, so I pulled it down again.
‘Maria,’ he said. He was still outside the door. ‘Are you doing okay?’
‘My buttons,’ I said.
‘Do you need help?’ he said.
I nodded.
‘Can I come in?’
I nodded again. It was hard for me to ask out loud for that kind of help.
‘Maria?’
He knocked and came in.
‘I can’t undo my buttons,’ I said.
My dress was still damp and it clung to my breasts. He took a step towards me. I could smell his breath. It was like cinnamon bark and honey. My breasts were moving up and down with my breathing, though I was asking them to stay still.
‘Maybe we should wait for Hattie,’ I said.
He took my cold hands between his warm palms. For a moment they stopped shivering. He looked into my eyes.
‘I don’t think we should wait,’ he said.
He let go of my hands and undid my top button.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE
He carried on looking into my eyes as he undid my buttons. His fingers were trembling a bit. I held my breath, to keep my breasts still, but then I started to run out of air, so I had to suck some in. His fingertips brushed against me, his hand looking for the next button.
I could feel the heat from his body, waves of it moving from him to me. When he had undone the buttons all the way down to my thighs he slipped the dress off my shoulders. I was glad I had my nice underwear on. White cotton.
He stood in front of me – his body so close that I was tickled by his chest hairs – and reached his arms around me to undo my bra. He took the straps off my shoulders, and the bra dropped to the floor. Then his body heat pulled me in, and I was pressing myself into his chest.
His hand held the back of my head, gently, like I might break. I heard the sound of a car arriving. He stepped back, and my arms moved to cover my breasts. But then I realised that I might’ve died today, without any man seeing me naked, so I let my hands drop.
He looked at me standing there in only my panties and my muddy veldskoene, and he smiled. That wide white smile that made my heart somersault.
‘Lovely,’ he said.
He grabbed his shirt and left the room, closing the door. I finished getting undressed and climbed into the bath and lay back in the warm water. The ice inside of me was slowly melting.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-TWO
‘You all right in there, Maria, darling?’ said Hattie through the bathroom door.
‘Hats! I’m fine, my skat.’
‘I’m just making us a spot of tea,’ she said. ‘The detective said I must tell you to add more hot water.’
I heard the sound of a car driving off as I ran the hot tap. My shivering stopped, and the warmth filled my whole body.
I got dressed in trousers and a shirt, and put on fresh socks with my veldskoene and went out to the stoep. Hattie jumped up and gave me the biggest hug.
‘Oh, Maria. Tannie Maria!’ she said.
For a skinny lady, she was a good hugger. On the stoep table was a tray with cups and a pot of tea in a tea cosy, and an open tin of beskuit. I poured for us, as if this was an ordinary Friday afternoon visit. The chickens came calling and I threw them a handful of mielies.
‘I have been out of my mind with worry,’ Hattie said.
I told her my story, the bits she didn’t know, and we drank tea and ate beskuit.
‘Thank goodness that dreadful man is dead,’ she said.
‘Thanks to you, Hats. Without your ideas about Boetie, they wouldn’t have got to me in time . . . ’
‘Oh, pish posh,’ she said, flapping her hand as if chasing a fly away. ‘We all did what we could. I can’t tell you how happy I am that you are alive.’
But she did not look happy. Her face was pale and pinched. There was a big emptiness in the chair where Jessie wasn’t sitting. We sat looking at the afternoon sun melting away the last of the storm clouds, but the silence got too loud.
‘We can’t just sit here,’ I said. ‘Let’s go and help find her.’
‘Are you sure, Tannie M? Don’t you need to rest?’
‘Can you rest?’ I said, standing up.
She sighed, and stood up too. I grabbed the tin of rusks and a jacket and a torch, and we headed for her car. The Toyota Etios was squashed between a thorn bush and a eucalyptus tree.
‘Why don’t I drive?’ I said.
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Maria, after all you’ve been through.’
‘We could go past Dirk’s and fetch my bakkie.’
‘Let’s get it later,’ she said. ‘When your nerves have settled.’
‘You’re right. The sooner we get there . . . ’
Apart from giving her directions, we did not talk on the road because I was holding my breath most of the time. Her driving was even more terrible than usual – maybe it just felt worse because of my shaken nerves or all those puddles and bumps on the dirt roads.
The tin of beskuit rattled on the back seat. I put them on my lap, so that they did not all turn to crumbs. But I did not ask Hattie to slow down, because I wanted to get there as fast as we could. Luckily we did not kill ourselves or any wild animals on the way. I think the animals heard her coming and ran over the hill.
‘Goodness gracious,’ said Hattie as she bumped the Etios into a Combi parked outside Van Wyk’s house. ‘What a circus.’
‘Looks like half the town has pitched up,’ I said.
The circus was overflowing off the green stoep, into the driveway. We could see: a flock of Jessie’s relatives; a line of nurses from the hospital, Jessie’s mum standing very still amongst them in her white nurse’s outfit, hugging her arms around herself; a troupe of Seventh-day Adventists; and the clowns – Dirk, Anna and John – in their bandages and wheelchair.
Police in uniforms were herding the people into small groups. On the stoep, Kannemeyer pointed to a map that was stuck up on the wall. His shirt was back on; it was very wrinkled.
He said: ‘Only go to the areas that your policeman leads you to.’ He frowned and shook his head when he saw me, but carried on talking. ‘We don’t want to mess up the tracks in the areas that Constable Witbooi is still studying. No running off.’
‘But that guy’s running all over like a mad thing,’ said Anna, pointing out across the veld at someone moving like a jackal, zigzagging across the slope of a hill.
‘That’s Warrant Officer Reghardt Snyman. He’s working with Constable Witbooi. Listen, we don’t have time for messing about. You do what we say, or you leave. Understood?’
There was a nodding of some heads. Anna took a silver hipflask from her side and had a sip then rested the flask on her plaster cast.
‘Right. Now listen closely. Group One, you come with me. I’ll give you directions when we get there.’
As he was talking, a red sports car came racing up the road and skidded to a halt, spitting gravel.
‘Group Two, you are with Sergeant Vorster,’ said Kannemeyer. ‘You’ll be following him, walking three metres apart. Group Two, are you listening?’
But he realised he’d lost their attention; he shook his head and allowed a break as the people watched Candy’s arrival.
Her legs seemed to have got even longer, and they came out of the car with a pair of midnight-blue heels. Her short dress was sky blue a
nd her gold hair loose and soft on her shoulders. Even on that bumpy ground, she moved like a catwalk model as she walked towards us.
She saw Kannemeyer but ignored him and looked at me.
‘Tannie Maria,’ she said, as if I was the one running the show, ‘I came as soon as I heard. Is there anything I can do?’
‘Come here,’ I said, because Hattie and I had been herded into Group One. ‘And listen to what the detective is saying.’
Candy pursed her pink lips and came and stood by me. She smelled of lemon blossom.
‘Right,’ said Kannemeyer, pointing to a section on the map. ‘Group Two will drive with Sergeant Vorster to the south side.’
There were four groups, each to cover different areas. Three of them headed off, with their own police leaders. Group One stayed on the stoep, waiting for Kannemeyer.
‘Pretorius. You’re not going to get across the veld in that thing,’ Kannemeyer said to Anna, who was rolling along after Group Two.
‘I’ve got binoculars,’ she said, pulling them out of a pocket of the wheelchair, and waving them at him.
‘Best you stay here.’ He turned to the hobbling, bandaged Dirk and John. ‘All three of you.’
‘Ag, bloody hell,’ Dirk grumbled into his beard.
‘Warrant Officer Smit needs back-up here, at base camp.’
Smit’s eyebrows shot up.
‘The ambulance will be here now-now,’ said Kannemeyer to the warrant officer. ‘To pick up Van Wyk.’
‘What?’ said Anna.
‘He’s still here?’ said John.
‘I’ll kill him,’ said Dirk.
‘He’s dead,’ said Kannemeyer.
‘I don’t care,’ said Dirk. ‘Where is he?
‘I hear the ambulance now,’ said Kannemeyer.
There was a siren wailing across the hills.
He mouthed Sorry to Warrant Officer Smit. Then he led Group One away.
‘We are going to catch up with Constable Piet Witbooi,’ he told us.
There were ten in our group and those of us who didn’t fit into Kannemeyer’s van climbed into Hattie’s car. In the front sat a skinny young man with red eyes and a woollen cap pulled down over his ears. He smelled of some sweet herb. Basil?
Georgie, the Seventh-day Adventist, and Candy sat in the back with me. On my lap I held the tin of broken rusks.
‘We are praying for her,’ said Georgie, patting my knee.
Hattie banged the Combi again as she reversed out.
‘Oooh wooo,’ said Georgie in a high-pitched tone, and began praying in a sing-song rhythm.
‘How do you do?’ said Hattie to the young man. ‘I am Harriet Christie.’
‘Uh huh,’ said the man.
‘And you are?’
‘Boetie,’ he mumbled.
‘Ah, the notorious Boetie Mostert,’ she said, shooting down the dirt road to catch up with Kannemeyer’s van.
‘You’ve got that glow, sugar,’ Candy said to me, gripping onto the seat in front of her. ‘What happened?’
I thought of Kannemeyer in the bathroom and my face went hot.
‘Jessie might have got away,’ I said. ‘Sprayed him with pepper spray.’
‘You’re blushing. I hope so. She’s a wild one, Jessie.’ She looked down at my muddy veldskoene. ‘I’ve got just the shoes for you. I’ll send you a pair.’
Hattie was weaving all over the dirt road, avoiding puddles, and hitting rocks.
The more the bumps, the faster Georgie prayed, and the higher the notes on her Oooh wooos: ‘Lord, oh Lord, oooh wooo, oh Lordy, as we move through the valley of death, keep us all safe. Ooooh woooooo.’
‘There’s Piet,’ I said.
We pulled up behind Kannemeyer’s van, only lightly hitting his back bumper. Maybe Georgie’s prayers did work.
We all piled out and looked around at the wild veld and hills. Some zebras were silhouetted on a faraway ridge. The rusks and I stood close enough to the men to hear them talking. Piet was crouched on his haunches by the side of the road, looking at the muddy ground.
‘What you doing?’ said Kannemeyer.
‘Watching ants,’ said Piet.
‘Find anything?’
‘The rain was heavy.’
‘Tracks?’
‘Bike tyres and the Firestones. They stop. The Firestones turn around, go back.’
‘And shoe prints?’
‘Rain was too heavy.’
Kannemeyer moved from one foot to the other.
Piet carried on watching the ants.
Kannemeyer tugged at one end of his moustache.
‘Here are the volunteers to help with the search.’
Piet nodded and inched forward, following the line of ants.
‘Will you tell them where to go?’ said Kannemeyer.
‘They are telling me,’ said Piet, keeping his gaze on the ground.
‘Konstabel Witbooi,’ said Kannemeyer.
Piet pointed.
We looked at the ants. There was a long line of them heading one way, and another long line heading back.
Piet trotted forward. Kannemeyer and I followed.
We followed the line of ants between some vetplantjies, and then behind a porcupine milk-bush. Piet prodded the earth with his foot. The ground was soft and disturbed.
‘There is something under here that the ants are eating,’ he said.
Reghardt ran down the hill to us, his face streaked with scratches and dirt.
‘What is it?’ he said. ‘What have you found?’
‘Get the spade from the back of the van,’ said Kannemeyer.
The people from Group One had wandered across and were standing behind us. They used their hands to shade their faces from the afternoon sun. They moved aside as Reghardt pushed through with the spade. Kannemeyer tried to take it from him, but Reghardt wasn’t letting go.
Piet pointed out the area to dig. Reghardt’s spade dipped in fast but shallow. Like he didn’t want to hurt what was underneath.
Beneath the sand, there was just more sand. The sweat ran down the side of his face. Then Reghardt struck something solid. Thunk. The sound made me jump, and the rusks rattle.
Reghardt closed his eyes and stood still a second. His face went white. Then he crouched down and peered into the hole. Piet was squatting on the ground. He reached in and touched the thing that Reghardt had hit. He brought out his finger and smelled it. An ant was walking across his fingernail.
‘Blood,’ Piet said.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-THREE
Reghardt let out a small sound like he had been hit in the belly, but then he swallowed and started digging with his hands, like an animal clawing the ground. Piet was working beside him. Reghardt’s hand gripped something and he tugged at it.
‘It’s metal,’ he said. ‘It’s metal.’
Kannemeyer and Boetie joined them and they all dug together. They cleared the dirt away and pulled out a scooter. Jessie’s red scooter.
I could see the ants and the dark sticky stuff on the seat of the bike. Piet ran his fingers across it. Touched his finger to the tip of his tongue.
‘This is from today,’ he said.
Reghardt’s face was now whiter than white.
‘She’d dead, isn’t she?’ he said. ‘Just tell me.’
Piet shook his head.
‘Can’t say.’
Reghardt was breathing fast; I thought he was going to faint.
I clutched my tin of buttermilk beskuit. I wanted to give him something to help with the shock. But he needed something else even more than these broken rusks. Something we all needed: hope. We had to have hope.
‘Jessie was on her scooter, and he shot her,’ I said, ‘with a bow and arrow. But when he caught up with her, she was ready for him. She sprayed him. With the pepper spray. I smelled it on him. He was blinded and she got away. She left her bike, but she got away, Reghardt. Then there was rain and it washed away her tracks, so he couldn’t find her.’
Piet was
nodding, but Reghardt was shaking his head, holding back the tears. I kept on talking.
‘She was like a wounded animal and he wanted to come back and look for her. He got a phone call that I was at his work and he came to get me. This morning he told me he had another hunt to do. He was talking about her. He hadn’t found her. And he didn’t find her.’
I turned to the people standing behind me.
‘Now he’s dead and he didn’t find her,’ I said. ‘But we can find her.’
‘Konstabel Witbooi,’ said Kannemeyer, ‘go back to where the scooter tracks stopped and see if you can find any foot spoor.’ He turned to speak to the rest of us. ‘If she was injured, I doubt she’d have got further than two kilometres. She might have hypothermia too. Keep your eyes on the ground. Footprints are unlikely because of the rain, but you never know, maybe she walked after the rain. Also, look out for broken plants, blood, ants. You see anything unusual, raise your hand and call out for me or Constable Witbooi.’
As he spoke, I offered the tin of rusks, and people helped themselves. A young nurse in a white uniform took the tin from me and offered it to those who stood out of my reach.
‘Warrant Officer Snyman – you move in a wide circle around this point. Climb to the top of each of these hills around us. And use your binos to check out all the hiding places: bushes, trees, ditches.’
Reghardt was just standing there, but there was some colour in his face now.
‘Go!’ said Kannemeyer.
Reghardt blinked and shot off like a racing dog.
When he was gone, Kannemeyer turned to the rest of us, and said: ‘We are also looking for soft earth.’ He tapped the ground next to the scooter with his foot. ‘Like this. Where something is buried.’
Georgie’s hand went to her mouth. She caught an Oooh wooo in her fingers.
The nurse gave me the rusk tin back and I offered the last beskuit to Kannemeyer. He looked into my eyes as he ate it, and my chest filled with a strange warmth.
Then he pointed to a hill with a row of spekboom trees at its base.
‘We’re heading that way first. Walk two metres apart and follow me. I’ll go ahead and sweep the area for anything obvious. You move slowly so you don’t miss anything.’