by Sally Andrew
I ate the last few crumbs of hope – then I left the tin in the car.
We spread out and walked behind Kannemeyer, our eyes on the ground. I heard him talking to Warrant Officer Smit on the radio, telling him to have an ambulance on standby, and to get the other groups to come and join our search. Hattie and Candice were on either side of me. Candy was slower than me in those heels, and Hattie a bit faster. But I hardly noticed them.
My eyes were drinking in everything in front of me. Looking for clues. I found the tracks of a snake after the rain. A mouse scuttling into some Christmas aloes. The footprints of a rabbit, and the heart-shaped hoof prints of a hartebees. Piles of big black shiny droppings. White stones, purple stones, stones the colour of dried blood.
The sun was low and blasting onto the side of my face. I kept on walking and looking. The other groups joined the search. There were lines of them walking across the veld and up the hills. But I was keeping my attention on the two metres that were mine.
I scared a bushbuck out from the shade of a wild plum tree. I looked in dongas, the sandy ditches where the cancer bush grew, its flowers dripping red. The little faces of the lion-mouth flowers looked up at me. I studied a sterretjiebos, because the dried star-pods looked like ants marching up and down its stalks. But they were not ants and they were not leading me anywhere.
I saw dung beetles, and spiders with golden bellies. I saw Karoo violets with velvet petals and little prickly plants whose names I did not know.
But none of them had signs of Jessie.
There were so many different kinds of life – insects, plants, creatures – that I had never really noticed before.
Life, I found myself praying to the life on the land, like I had prayed to the sky and the rain. Life of the land. Keep Jessie alive. Show us where she is. I beg you, Life, keep her alive.
We kept on looking and walking. The sun was setting now and the clouds were changing colours. Soon it would be dark. My heart was sinking with the sun. If we had not found her by nightfall . . . My eyes were sore from looking so hard, from seeing so many things, but none of them clues to Jessie. I put my fingers on my eyelids and closed them for a second. There was such a tiredness in me, I wanted to lie down on the ground and cry. I opened my eyes and saw Reghardt, reaching the top of a koppie. A herd of kudu were running away from him, down the slope of the hill. One kudu with big horns did not run. It stood staring at him, its horns gleaming in the light, while the others galloped away. Reghardt had his back to them, as he moved up to the peak of the hill. The running kudus came to a gwarrie tree that was growing between two big rocks and suddenly stopped. They turned and ran away from the tree, back up towards Reghardt. The big kudu barked, and the kudu herd ran down again, but on the slope away from the tree.
I raised my hand and shouted: ‘Henk! Piet!’
Kannemeyer was closest. I told him what I’d seen: the kudus were avoiding that tree.
‘What did they see or smell there?’ I said.
He radioed Reghardt: ‘The big gwarrie tree, southwest of you.’
I watched Reghardt scramble back down the hill. Sliding on the loose gravel as he ran. He disappeared behind the rocks at the gwarrie tree. Kannemeyer and Piet were running now, up the slope.
Then I saw Reghardt’s head appearing, as he walked out from behind the rocks. He was carrying a body across his arms.
It was too far to see for sure, but I knew it was Jessie.
He was shouting something. The people who were searching closest to the base of the hill ran towards him, and. soon they were shouting too, but I could not hear what they were saying. Then those a little closer to them heard the shout, and it got passed across the veld, between the thorn trees and the stones, until the words reached my ears:
‘She’s alive. She’s alive!’
CHAPTER EIGHTY-FOUR
I bowed my head in thanks:
Thank you, Rain, for hiding her tracks.
Thank you, Life, for keeping her alive.
Thank you for showing us where to find her.
Tears were falling down my face when Hattie reached me and we hugged and cried together.
Then Candice joined us, stepping between the prickly plants in those heels of hers. Her legs were scratched and her face lined with dirt and tears, but when she smiled she was the most beautiful sight.
The ambulance got to Jessie before we could walk across the veld, and we saw Reghardt and Kannemeyer lifting her in. Reghardt got in too. A herd of mountain zebra galloped along the plain as the ambulance raced off, its wee-waaah wee-waaah tearing across the sunset sky.
We headed back to the cars, and Kannemeyer came to join us. We were smiling, but when we saw his face, we stopped.
‘What is it?’ I said.
‘I’m no doctor,’ he said, ‘but she is unconscious and it looks bad.’
A group of Seventh-day Adventists broke into prayer, and Hattie joined in with them. If there was a god, the Adventists and Hattie had his phone number, so I left them to it. I walked away and watched the darkening sky. The clouds were streaked with a deep red. I looked at the veld, soft in the evening light.
The sky and the land. I had prayed to them and they’d delivered. Could I still ask for more?
Should I not be doing some work myself? Helping Jessie get better. I was no doctor, but I was her friend. I let my heart fill with all the love I felt for her. My love was big and red like the sunset. It pushed out the worry and the fear in my chest. When my heart felt so full I thought it would burst, I sent all that love to her. I had her phone number. She would get my love.
There was a warm hand on my shoulder. It was Kannemeyer. But he turned and walked to his van before I could see his face. The searchers were back in the cars, waiting to go.
‘Oh, goodness,’ said Hattie. ‘Do you think she’ll . . . ?’
‘Turn on your lights,’ I said. ‘She’s a strong girl, our Jessie.’
We’d dropped the others off and it was just the two of us again, driving in her Toyota in the dark.
‘She may have lost a lot of blood . . . ’ said Hattie, hooting by mistake as she turned on her lights.
‘Slow down,’ I said.
‘She had injuries too. And maybe hypothermia— ’
‘Watch out!’
A kudu leapt across the road and Hattie swerved into a thorny bush.
‘Oh, jolly hockey sticks!’
She got us out of the bush and carried on driving at the same speed.
‘So, darling, what’s happening with you and the detective?’
‘Pasop! The gate!’
‘I see it, I’m not blind.’
I got out to do the gate and she reversed to give me space to open it.
When I got back in, she said: ‘I’ve seen the way you look at each other.’
‘I don’t know, Hats.’
‘He looks after you very nicely, I must say. I was wondering . . . did he run that bath for you?’
‘He has been very nice. But he’s just doing his job.’
‘I don’t suppose he’ll be camping at your house any more, now that . . . ’
‘No. No, he won’t.’
‘He’s a jolly good-looking chap.’
And he could do much better than me, I thought.
‘I’m too old for that kind of stuff,’ I said.
‘Never too old. Has there been no one since . . . Fanie?’
I shook my head. We were back on the tar road now, so the ride was a bit smoother. And although we veered around the road, thankfully there were no cars or animals.
‘Isn’t it about time . . . ?’ said Hattie.
‘Fanie put me off men.’
‘He was a rotter. Not all men are like that, you know.’
‘I know, I know. But my heart is kind of . . . closed.’
‘Give him a chance, Maria.’
‘We’ll see. Can you drop me at Dirk’s farm? My bakkie is there. Your indicator is on.’
She turned her indicat
or off, but switched her hazard lights on. I didn’t tell her. I think it was for the best.
Dirk’s house was dark.
‘I wonder where he is,’ said Hattie.
‘He might not be back yet, we drove here quite fast.’
‘Fast? Perhaps he’s with Anna. I wonder if they’re still working together to drive one car.’
‘Dankie, skat,’ I said and kissed her cheek.
‘I’m quite pooped, Maria. I’m sure you are too. Have something to eat and a rest. I’ll see you in the morning.’
She drove off, her hazards still flashing.
My blue bakkie was waiting patiently under the gum tree. On the passenger seat was my tin of rusks.
‘The Spar manager was the murderer,’ I told the rusks as we drove. ‘He nearly killed me, but Henk shot him. Dead. We found Jessie. Alive. But injured and unconscious. It could be bad. We are going to the hospital now. This time you lot are coming in with me.’
CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE
Jessie was in the Intensive Care Unit. The ICU waiting room was full. Lots of the people who had been at the search were there. Reghardt was pacing up and down, wearing a path in the linoleum. There was no sign of Kannemeyer.
‘How is she?’ I asked.
Reghardt shook his head and bit his lip. His long eyelashes were wet.
‘The doctor is coming to talk to us now-now,’ he said.
There was a big urn and Jessie’s younger sister, Juanita, was making cups of tea. I helped her pass them around to everyone. Anna took out her silver hipflask and added a shot to her cup, and then to Dirk’s. I gave Juanita my tin of beskuit and she handed that around too. It was empty in thirty seconds. I suppose most of us had not had supper. Dirk’s head fell back and he started his warthog snoring. We heard footsteps coming down the hallway, and Anna elbowed Dirk in the ribs. He sat up, snorting. Jessie’s mother jumped up. She was not in uniform, but in a blue dress. Her clothes were fresh and clean, while mine were creased and muddy. But her face looked so crumpled.
The doctor arrived and we all turned to him like flowers to the sun. A very black sun in a white coat.
‘Can I have a word with just the family?’
Most of us got up and moved towards him.
‘Oh, okay. I’ll address you all, if that’s all right with you?’
He looked at Sister Mostert and she nodded.
‘Jessie’s condition is critical. Her leg injury and the place where the arrow hit her shoulder are not too severe. There is some infection, but it’s under control . . . for now. The problem is the blood loss. She lost a lot of blood. Her heart stopped for a while and we got it going again. She’s still in a coma. If she comes through, our biggest concern is brain damage.’
Jessie’s mother clutched a fist to her heart. The doctor started talking in difficult medical language about the danger of ‘coning’ and ‘neural probes’ and things I did not understand and did not want to understand.
I closed my eyes and sent my love to Jessie. I could see it flowing into her, red like pomegranate juice. Like blood.
‘Only one visitor at a time,’ the doctor was saying now in normal English. ‘And only those closest to her. Sister Mostert and Officer Snyman will monitor who goes in. She is in a coma, but there’s a small possibility that she can hear you. So, please, only say encouraging things to her.’
People came and went from the waiting room, but I kept sitting. My eyes were closed a lot of the time but I wasn’t sleeping; I was on the phone to Jessie:
Jessie, my girl, you’re going to be just fine. That horrible man is dead. We got him. And you are in the hospital getting better. I’m going to make you the best chocolate cake you have ever eaten. And have you tasted my chicken soup? That will get you healthy in no time. And then you can eat all your favourite things: like bobotie and koeksisters.
I opened my eyes – the waiting room was almost empty. Anna and Dirk were still there. Anna passed out in her wheelchair, and Dirk snoring on the couch. Reghardt was sitting upright, his eyes red, his mouth a tight line.
I carried on my call to Jessie:
When you’re ready I’ll make a big feast for you with roast lamb and potatoes and vetkoek and mince. And salads: potato, and three-bean and carrot with pineapple. And coffee and koeksisters and chocolate cake. And bread with apricot jam, of course. Ooh, you will eat so lekker, your tummy will be round like a potjiepot.
I heard footsteps and saw Jessie’s mother coming towards us. It was just me and Reghardt in the waiting room. Now Sister Mostert’s dress was as creased as her face. Reghardt jumped to his feet.
‘You can go in now,’ she said. ‘I’m going home to try and sleep.’
I closed my eyes again. A while later I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I woke, saying, ‘Henk . . . ’
It was Reghardt.
‘Kannemeyer was here,’ he said. ‘He didn’t want to disturb you.’
‘Is she okay?’ I asked.
‘The same,’ he said. ‘You can go in for a bit if you want. Then I can give you a ride home. He said I should give you a ride home.’
‘No, I’ll be fine to drive. But I do want to see her, even just for a minute.’
‘All right, then I’ll sit with her till morning. Her sister’s coming early.’
I went through the big swinging doors of the ICU and washed my hands with liquid soap. Then a nurse showed me to Jessie’s bed. Attached to Jessie were drips and pipes, and beeping machines with numbers and moving green lines. Her left upper arm was bandaged, and her right knee and shin had dressings on them. Repairing the damage done by his car and arrow. There was a plastic mask over her face and a machine helping her breathe.
She was lying very still. The nurse left me alone and I sat on the chair beside the bed. Jessie looked so weak and pale; I wanted to rip out all the wires and tubes and hold her to me like a baby. I put my hand on hers. It was hot and still.
I watched her chest as it rose and fell with the breathing machine.
‘Well, we caught him, Jessie,’ I said. ‘He’s dead now. We make a good team. You and me. And Hats. The police helped too. Reghardt really loves you, you know. We all love you. Our girl with the gecko tattoo, hey?’
I looked at the ink gecko on her shoulder that wasn’t bandaged. I had never seen it lying so still. I patted her hand. Her breath rose and fell.
‘Now you just need to get better. I’ll be making you your favourite chocolate cake.’ Her fingers twitched. ‘First thing in the morning.’
Reghardt stood at the foot of the bed. Then he came and put his hand on her forehead and brushed her hair back. I saw the look on his face as he stroked her hair. It cracked my heart right open.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-SIX
My house was very quiet and empty. No police guard. No Kannemeyer.
I made a piece of bread and jam and took it to the couch.
There were dents in the cushions where Kannemeyer had slept. The couch smelled of him. I was so tired, I lay down, just for a second. I lay down in the shape he had made in the cushions. Was I stupid to think that he and I . . . ? I was the one who had taken the step forward in the bathroom, pressed myself against him. But he had said I was lovely. Maybe he was just being nice about the veldskoene and panty combination. Maybe he didn’t mean anything by it . . . He was only doing his job. And now that job was over.
How could I even be thinking about him, with Jessie, lying there, almost dead? Almost dead, but with a man who loved her . . .
I lay in the cushion curves of Kannemeyer’s shape. I fitted just fine. I fell asleep in those curves.
When I woke the sunlight was falling in through the open window in the lounge. The phone was ringing. It was Hattie.
‘She’s come around. She’s talking. She’s going to be okay.’
I could not say anything because I was crying. Why does good news make me cry?
‘She’s asking for you . . . ’
I swallowed.
‘I’m on my way.’
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br /> I washed off my mud and sleep in a quick shower. My legs were sore from all that walking. I brushed my hair, but did not even put on lipstick or have coffee.
In the hospital, Jessie was propped up on some pillows. When she saw me a big grin filled her face, but she was so weak she could not keep it for long.
‘Jessie,’ I said, holding her hand.
‘We did it, Tannie Maria,’ she said. ‘We got the bastard.’
I squeezed her fingers. She squeezed back and closed her eyes.
‘I dreamt of your chocolate cake,’ she said, a smile lifting her cheeks again for a second.
One arm lay across her chest, her fingers resting on the gecko tattoo on her other arm. She touched the head of the gecko as if she was about to stroke it, but then she fell asleep.
I went to the Spar to get the ingredients I needed. I was still planning what to buy as I pushed my trolley down the aisle. I would need flour for the chocolate cake, of course. But also ingredients for chicken soup; a person cannot live on cake alone. And flour for beskuit. I needed to make a lot more rusks. I stopped and looked at a 2.5kg bag of Eureka Stone Ground Flour. I picked it up. And then I saw him. Henk Kannemeyer. He was at the other end of the aisle.
I thought he saw me too, but he couldn’t have, because he disappeared instead of coming over.
I would make him a cake as well. A nice big chocolate cake for him and Piet and Reghardt. Still holding the bag of flour to my chest, I walked to the next aisle. There he was.
‘Henk,’ I said.
I smiled at him. Now I was sorry I had not put on my lipstick. But he had seen me looking worse, and still said I was lovely.
He looked away and then looked back at me, as if he was not pleased to have been spotted. Perhaps he was there undercover. No, that’s silly, everyone in Ladismith knows who he is.
I walked up to him and said, ‘She’s fine. She’s going to be okay.’
‘Yes,’ he said, looking down at me. ‘I heard. I am glad.’