“Never!” I open the fridge and inspect it objectively. “There are leftovers, but if I give them to you there’ll be nothing left for Dad to eat. So how about sandwiches? There’s a whole loaf of bread, and eggs, and lettuce and tomatoes and cheese…”
“Perfect.” I’m pretty sure I can hear his stomach growling. “Can I…?”
“Help yourself.” I take a few things out of the fridge while he reaches for the bread, chopping board and a knife.
By the time I’ve made my cheese and tomato sandwich, he’s made four and put a pan on the stove, where a six-egg omelette is sizzling. I half expect him to start eating the plates and cutlery, too.
After lunch we settle down at the dining table with our books spread out in front of us. We only spend about half an hour on them, though – there are much more important things to discuss.
“So you think this planting thing will work on Rose?” asks Rakwena, slurping up his fourth glass of orange squash.
“I think I have a good chance. The problem is getting past the Puppetmaster’s barrier.”
Worry creases Rakwena’s brow. “This Puppetmaster sounds like a serious sorcerer.”
I giggle. “Sorcerer? What do you know about sorcerers?”
He gives me a look. “An evil sorcerer can be very dangerous. His greatest ambition is to push the limits of the supernatural and become as powerful as possible. He’s not about solving family issues or finding lost livestock. He’s a self-serving egomaniac with magic on his side.”
I sober up quickly, unnerved by his tone. “I get it. He’s dangerous. But I’m not letting this go.”
“I know.” He reaches for my hand across the table, and I feel power flow through his fingers. “We’ll have to be careful. We’re making enemies. First Thuli, now this Puppetmaster…”
I roll my eyes. “Relax, Lizzie.”
“Don’t call me that.” He clicks his tongue and glares at me. “You should be practising your planting.”
“You’re right, Lizzie – I mean Rakwena.” I smile sweetly. “But I have no subject. Unless you plan to let me into your head, which would be a first.”
He leans back in his chair. “Go for it.”
I raise my eyebrows at him. “Really?”
He nods, but there’s a sly look in his eyes and I suspect he’s only going to give me partial access, like Ntatemogolo.
“OK.” I take a deep breath and get into the zone, then make my way into his head. There are many blurry areas, and others that are so dark that I don’t dare venture towards them. I focus on creating a sense of trust.
You trust Connie. She’s your friend, your fellow-freak. There’s nothing you can tell her that she won’t understand. There’s nothing about yourself you can’t share. Your concerns, your insecurities, your history, your family… A wall goes up, blocking me instantly. I find myself in darkness, the way ahead barricaded. I keep my eyes closed. It’s just me, Rakwena. Connie. You don’t have to be afraid. You don’t have to hide. You can talk about your life. You can talk about your mother…
“That’s enough,” he snaps suddenly. The wall advances towards me until I feel my mind relax and loosen its grip on his.
I open my eyes with a sigh. “I didn’t get anywhere. You’re supposed to be helping me.”
“Not if you’re going to play games like that.” Blue sparks dance in his irises.
“I’m not playing games,” I protest. “I just want to get to know you. After everything that happened at the party, I thought we trusted each other.”
He hesitates. “We do.”
I fold my arms on top of the table, annoyed. “You’re sitting in my house, minutes away from meeting my father, and I still know nothing about your family.”
“Don’t be difficult.”
“Me?” Wow, this guy is something else. He’s the one with the secrets and I’m being difficult?
“You’re pushing!” he cries, his hands clenched into fists. “Why do you have to do that? Just leave it alone!”
I hear Dad’s car pull up outside the house. “My father’s here.”
Rakwena doesn’t respond. He’s trying to get his emotions under control. I watch the spark fade from his eyes. Slowly he unclenches his hands and rests them on the table.
The front door opens and my father walks in. He stops in the doorway and stares at us with a combination of dismay and surprise.
“Hey, Dad,” I say brightly. “Oh, this is Rakwena.”
Dad composes himself quickly and manages a polite smile. He puts down his briefcase and the stack of assignments he’s carrying, then pushes his glasses higher up on his nose. “Oh, yes. Hello, Rakwena. How nice to finally meet you.”
Rakwena stands up, almost knocking over his chair in his haste to make a good impression. He smiles and holds out his hand. “A pleasure, Dr Bennett.”
Dad shakes his hand and looks at the table. “Hard at work, I see.”
“Yep.” I smile up at him. “How was work?”
“Good. Have you kids eaten?” He throws a wary glance over his shoulder as he walks to the kitchen. “Ah. You have.”
I giggle; he must have noticed the empty squash bottle and the absence of the brand new loaf of bread. Rakwena shrugs sheepishly.
Dad stands in the doorway, afraid to leave us alone although we’ve been alone for the last hour. “You’re in Form Five?”
“Yes, Dr Bennett.”
“Planning to do Form Six?”
“Probably not. I’d rather just go right to university.”
“Ah. Right then.”
Dad is staring at Rakwena’s scar in a way that is meant to be surreptitious but is actually blatantly obvious. He’s terrified, but he’s trying very hard not to be judgemental. I pass on Auntie Lydia’s message, and he responds with a vague nod. Rakwena clears his throat. The tattoo is safely hidden away under the sleeve of his shirt.
Dad sighs. “Well… I’ll just leave you kids to work.”
Once he’s gone Rakwena slumps back into his chair. “He thinks I’m a thug.”
“He’ll get over it,” I assure him. “Come on. I’m supposed to finish this assignment by Friday and I’ve barely started.”
That night, long after Rakwena has gone home, I can sense that Dad is still anxious. We’re sitting together on the sofa. He’s watching the news and I’m eating supper and flipping through a magazine.
“Rakwena lives alone, doesn’t he?”
I look up. “Yes. Why?”
“Where are his parents?”
“I told you, Dad,” I remind him patiently. “His father’s dead and his mother doesn’t live here.”
“Where does she live?”
I lower my gaze, feeling a little uncomfortable. “I don’t know. He doesn’t like to talk about her.”
He’s frowning, confused and concerned. “He’s strange. There’s that terrible scar he won’t talk about, and he has family issues he won’t talk about, and he’s an eighteen-year-old kid living all alone with a pile of money… the whole thing is very strange, darling. Don’t you think so?”
“I’m good with strange, Dad,” I point out gently.
He sighs. “That’s the problem. You have enough strange in your life already.”
I put my plate on the coffee table and close the magazine. “Do you trust me?”
“Of course.”
“I’m a smart girl, right? I make good choices.”
“You do.”
“Rakwena is a good choice.”
He looks doubtful. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
He sighs. “OK, love. If you say so.”
This is one of the perks of having a father like mine. He could have been strict like Wiki’s dad, or vague and detached like Lebz’s, but he’s not. Dad listens to me, and unlike other parents, sometimes he actually thinks I might be right.
Emily sits very prim at the corner table of a fast food outlet, sipping her fruit juice and glancing around her in terror.
<
br /> “Amantle isn’t here,” I assure her.
“I know that,” she replies huffily. “It’s just…” She looks at Rose. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come.”
“I just want to help you.” I take a sip of my Crème Soda and lean closer to her. “But you need to be sure. If things work out, you might never be able to go back to the group. Can you deal with that?”
Emily hesitates.
“Of course,” says Rose, with a firm glance at her friend. “We don’t want anything more to do with this mess.”
“Amantle is going to kill us,” Emily whispers.
“Amantle has bigger problems,” I point out. “She’s possessed by a powerful sorcerer who’s making her do terrible things, maybe illegal things. Once we catch this guy, you girls will be the last thing on her mind.”
“You’d better be right,” Emily snaps, tossing her head. “I can’t have Amantle as an enemy. She’ll ruin my life!”
Eish, what a diva. But I remember the mess she’s in, and I feel for her. “I don’t want you two to worry. Just focus on trying to remember as much as you can. Any clues, any evidence you pick up, keep it and bring it to me. If we know what he’s making you do it might help my grandfather figure out how to undo it.”
“But you need the necklaces,” says Rose, and Emily immediately reaches up to touch hers. “You need them to break the spell.”
“Yes. But let me worry about that,” I add quickly, before their claws come out. “Emily, if you’re in you need to be in a hundred percent.”
“I’m in,” she says, but her voice wavers a little. “But you have to promise that you’ll get us out of this.”
“I promise,” I say without hesitation.
Rakwena calls me late on Friday night, just as I’m falling asleep. “This better be urgent,” I grumble into the phone.
“You want to know about my mother,” he says, without as much as a greeting. “I’ll tell you. Actually, I’ll show you. Tomorrow. Meet me at the bus rank at eight in the morning. Bring your passport and some money.”
I sit up in bed, wide awake now. “Where are we going?”
“To see her, of course. You were right – I shouldn’t keep hiding things from you. So I’m going to take you to meet her, and maybe then you’ll understand why I don’t like to talk about it. Will you come?”
I swallow. “You mentioned a passport…”
“She’s in Rustenburg.”
My eyes widen. “You’re taking me to South Africa?”
“I’ll have you back by seven, but if you think your Dad will refuse –”
“No, I’m coming!” There’s no way I’m missing out on the chance to find out more about Rakwena’s life. “I’ll see you at the bus rank at eight.” I hang up, but I don’t go to sleep immediately. There are too many things running through my mind, like what I’ll find when I cross the border, and, most importantly, what excuse I’m going to come up with to explain to my father why I’m gone all day tomorrow…
Chapter Thirteen
In the end I decide to go with the truth. It doesn’t go over too well. Dad leaps out of bed, scrambling for his spectacles.
“Absolutely not,” he sputters, pushing his glasses on. He has a stern expression on his face but his hair is messed up from sleep and he has an imprint on his cheek from the book near his pillow, so it’s difficult to be intimidated. “There’s no way I’m letting you go to South Africa on your own. Across the border? No!”
“I won’t be alone, Dad, I’ll be with Rakwena,” I remind him. “And we’ll be back by the end of the day. We’re only going to Rustenburg.”
“No, Connie.” He runs a hand through his hair. “That’s my final answer.”
I take a deep breath and prepare to wear him down. “We’re going to see his mother. He doesn’t get to spend much time with her.”
“That’s not your problem, love,” he says gently.
“Yes, it is. I’m his friend. His only friend. He’s all alone – dead father, absent mother, no relatives who care enough to check up on him. He has to do everything by himself and he’s only eighteen! But I can be there with him when he sees his mother, so he won’t have to deal with it alone.” I sit on the edge of the bed and peer into my father’s face. “I’m lucky. I have you and Ntatemogolo, Lebz and Wiki, and even though I’m not close to Grandma and Grandpa, I know they care. Rakwena has no one. Would you really want him to spend the rest of his life going through everything alone?”
He winces, feeling guilty. Ha! I’m getting to him. Dad has a soft heart. “Of course not. I’m glad he has you as a friend. But to take you across the border…” He frowns at me. “If it were Elijah or Malebogo, I would understand. But Rakwena… well, I don’t know him. I don’t know if I can trust him.”
“You don’t have to trust him. Just trust me.” I raise my eyebrows. “Besides, we both know I can see trouble coming.”
“Connie, really.” He gives me one of his don’t-talk-rubbish looks. “You’re not some kind of… psychic. You’re a child. If something goes wrong and you’re far away…”
“Nothing will go wrong. Rakwena would never let anything happen to me. He’s already proven that.”
Dad looks at me, confused. “What does that mean?”
I haven’t told him about the party. I consider divulging a little bit, just enough to get him to see Rakwena as a hero and not a threat, but I’m not sure I want my father carrying images of Thuli attacking me in his head. “Um… well… you know… he’s just been great. Doesn’t let anyone push me around. He’s like my bodyguard. I’m safe with him. You can ask Wiki,” I add desperately.
Dad slumps back against the pillows and looks at me. “You’re going to go no matter what I say, aren’t you?”
I think about denying it, but what’s the point? I nod.
Dad offers me a small smile. “I thought as much.” He’s quiet for a while. I’m about to speak when he says, “I think I have about two hundred rand somewhere in my closet. Take it.”
I throw my arms around him. “Thank you! You’re the best dad on the planet.” I jump up and head to the built-in wardrobe.
“Toiletry shelf,” he says.
I find the money in an envelope under his cologne. “Thanks, Dad. It means a lot that you trust me enough to let me go.”
He smiles. “It means a lot that you asked permission instead of just running off.” His smile fades. “Be careful, Connie.”
“Always,” I promise, and then I’m off.
Rakwena is waiting when I get off the combi, standing near the stop with his hands in his pockets. His shoulders are tense under the fabric of his T-shirt, and his tattoo is proudly on display. His eyes light up when he spots me. “You came.”
“Of course.” I reach out to rub his arm. “Are youOK?”
“Fine. It’s just… well, no one outside my family has ever gone to see her.”
That’s an odd thing to say. Is she some kind of hermit? Is she in prison? I don’t want to ask, not yet. I follow him to the area where all the buses are, and we weave through the early morning crowd to get in line. We barely speak as the bus moves through the city. It’s only when we’re almost out of town that Rakwena turns to me.
“Does your father know where you are?”
“I’m a good girl, Rakwena. I don’t lie to my father.”
He laughs. I’m relieved – it’s not easy to talk to him when he’s being sullen. I’d rather have him be obnoxious and sarcastic.
We spend almost forty-five minutes at the border. By the time we get back into the bus, everyone is hot, tired and irritable. Rakwena and I bought some snacks on the way, but when we get off in Rustenburg he’s so hungry we have to stop for an emergency lunch. He hasn’t volunteered any information about his mother, and I haven’t asked. After eating we climb into a taxi and he turns to me.
“I should prepare you.” His tone is solemn.
I take his hand and thread my fingers through his. “Is she… will she be happy t
o see you?”
“I don’t know.” He turns back to me. “You can never predict what will happen. She might not even notice I’m there. She’s in a mental hospital.”
My eyes widen. Many possibilities ran through my head, but not this. “What happened to her?”
He scowls. “My father happened. He put us through hell and now she can’t tell the difference between fantasy and reality. She might…” He pauses. “Just be prepared.”
I’ve never met a crazy person. I feel bad just thinking it – crazy person – but my imagination is running wild. I picture a woman with uncombed hair and wide eyes, screaming and throwing food at pristine white walls. She probably won’t be like that. She’ll probably be quiet and sedate, sitting in a corner, staring into space. Or maybe she’ll be almost normal. She’ll pat my hand, ask Rakwena about school and tell me how glad she is that her son has found a friend.
I clutch his hand, only releasing it briefly while we get off the combi on the corner of a quiet street lined with trees.
“It started with dreams,” he continues suddenly. “She had strange, recurring nightmares. Then she started having them when she was awake. She would come to school insisting that I come home because someone was following her or coming to get us and we had to run away. She actually packed and booked flights, and then she would snap out of it. One time we got into the car with two suitcases and drove halfway across the country before she realised there was nothing to fear.”
I don’t know what to say, so I just keep his hand in mine and listen.
“It got worse and worse. She was afraid of everyone – her two sisters, her friends. Even me. She had to leave her job and we moved here, to Rustenburg, to stay with my aunt. Mama never left the house. After a few months her sisters had her admitted to a facility and sent me back home. I was thirteen.”
“They sent you back alone?” I’m horrified that anyone could be so callous.
He shrugs. “My aunts never liked me. I remind them of my father – they tried to have as little to do with me as possible. Rra Sechaba took care of me.”
We walk the rest of way down the road, turn the corner and stop in front of a big double-storey house with peach-coloured walls and a high electric fence. The black iron gate obscures most of the house. The only sign that this is anything other than a private residence is the sign on the gate; a butterfly on a flower with the words “Serenity House: where restless minds find peace”.
Entwined Page 16
