The Real

by Masha du Toit

  “See?”

  It was all Elke could do not to run back up the steps as fast as she could go. Ndlela was right. The room was full of rhinna growths, luxurious masses of them undulating over the floor and winding up the shelves that lined the walls, but that was not what made her heart lurch. It was the rows and rows of containers on the shelves, the reason for the strangely coloured light.

  Hardflasks. Hundreds of them. Tiny vials in racks, finger-sized tubes and round-bottomed bottles, all with the tell-tale metal stopper and the thin black lines that strengthened the glass. Some were filled to the brim with jewel-coloured fluids, others contained a dust so fine it clung to the inside of the glass like pollen. Some had objects inside them, thready spinal cords, clusters and clumps of beads, seeds, or eggs.

  Biologicals. The word thundered through Elke’s mind. It was an effort not to speak it out loud. Strangeside biologicals.

  Her mouth was dry and her skin prickled at the thought of what the hardflasks might contain. Some of the tubes were the slender, pencil-thin ones she associated with medical biologicals. Viruses. Bacteria. Spores. Any of a host of organisms that could destroy her world. Diseases against which nobody had immunity. Invasive species with no natural predators.

  She tried to swallow, took a deep, careful breath and let it out again.

  From the look of it, some of the stuff had been leaking. The rhinna proved that, and the other creatures she’d seen. They must all come from this place.

  Ndlela played his torch around the shelves, clearly unaware of her reaction.

  “How long has this been here?” she asked.

  “I don’t know,” said Ndlela. “Years and years. Isn’t it pretty? Mom told us about stained glass windows in cathedrals. So we decided to call it the Cathedral.”

  It was clear that he had no idea how much danger he was in.

  “Cool,” said Elke. “Thanks for showing me.” She forced herself to stand still. “Well, we should probably get going.”

  “Right,” said Ndlela. “Let’s go.”

  She let Ndlela go up the steps first, took a last, unbelieving look around the room, and followed him.

  ¤¤¤

  “Did you get a good haul?” said Isabeau as Ndlela and Elke came in the front door. “I made supper.”

  The kitchen smelled strongly of onions and garlic, and something sharp and curryish.

  “Smells good,” said Elke. She’d been unwilling to come, thinking that Noor wouldn’t welcome her, but Ndlela had persuaded her.

  “We did okay,” said Ndlela. “Got a lot of copper wire. And some glass. Quite nice.” He showed Isabeau a handful. “Crosshatch should like these.”

  “Check out the crutch Crosshatch made me,” said Isabeau. “It’s so much better than the other one. Meisje came back hours ago. She came right to the door and barked, just like she was talking.”

  Elke bent to scratch Meisje under her chin. “Good girl. Yes, I told her to come here.”

  “To look after me,” said Isabeau matter-of-factly.

  “That’s right.” Elke looked around the kitchen. “Can I have some water?”

  “Cups are over there,” said Isabeau. “That’s the filter. Just turn the tap. It’s perfectly clean.”

  Elke poured a cup of the water, which tasted so pure and sweet that she drank it quickly and poured herself another. “Do you want one?” she asked Ndlela.

  “Yes, please.”

  The food smelled delicious, but the pot was only half full. Elke looked around at the children’s living space. It was neat enough, but worn and faded. Almost everything had been reclaimed, mended, or patched, and the jars of soy and algae flour were almost empty.

  “Listen.” She slung her bag from her shoulder and started rummaging in it. “Can I add something to the meal? I’ve got some camping food. Some of it isn’t half bad and all you need to do is add a bit of water.”

  “Oh, good!” Isabeau came over and looked with interest at the various packages Elke produced. “Breyani! That sounds good. Or what about the mashed sweet potato?”

  “Don’t be rude, Issy.” Ndlela couldn’t entirely disguise his interest. “Are they any good?”

  “Makes a change. They’re not bad. What pot can I use?”

  Soon another pot of food was bubbling on the stove, adding its scent to the room. Meisje sat expectantly but Elke explained she’d already had her meal for the day.

  “She’s a clever dog,” said Isabeau. “She found Jayden’s hole almost immediately.” Then she stiffened, and looked at Elke with large eyes.

  “Oh, it’s okay,” said Ndlela. “It doesn’t really matter if she knows. Tell her.”

  “It’s supposed to be a secret,” said Isabeau to Elke. “Over there by the window. It’s a trapdoor in the floor. A hidey-hole Jayden made.”

  Elke went to have a look. Even when she knew what to look for it was difficult to spot, a large trapdoor set neatly into the floor. “That’s handy. Meisje spotted it?”

  “She went sniffing over there and she made like a ‘whuff’ sound,” said Isabeau. “Like she was pleased with herself. I tried speaking to her. I asked Meisje about Xun, but I’m not sure what she said.”

  Elke smiled. “You’ve got to ask her questions that can be answered with a ‘yes’ or a ‘no’.”

  She faced the gardag. “So, Meisje, did you find them?”

  Yes.

  “You saw that?” Elke said to Isabeau. “When her ears go like that and she blinks firmly? That means ‘yes’. Did they see you?”

  No.

  “She said ‘no’,” guessed Isabeau. “Good. Were they all okay? Was Xun okay?”

  Yes.

  Elke narrowed her eyes. Meisje’s answer had not been quite as confident as before, which meant that she was not entirely sure. She’d ask her more about it when Isabeau was not around.

  “Good,” said Isabeau. “Can you show me the hand signs you make? I saw you doing them when you were talking to Xun.”

  “Shouldn’t you turn the stove down a bit?” said Ndlela, who was on the balcony, picking dead leaves off the plants.

  “Oh, buggerit.” Isabeau and went to tend to the food.

  Noor arrived home from work, looking tired. To Elke’s relief she seemed unsurprised to find her and Meisje there, and seemed resigned to their presence.

  Robby had exploded into ecstatic greeting, and for a while Noor was occupied in containing the force of his affection.

  “Yes, Robby,” she said as he danced around her. “Okay, you stinky monster. I’m also happy to see you. Calm down now.” Noor drew a piece of paper from her pocket. “Isabeau. Got something for you.”

  Isabeau clamped the crutch under one arm and took the paper. Ndlela read over her shoulder.

  “Oh!” Isabeau looked up at Noor. “Where did you find this?”

  “They’re up all over the city.”

  Isabeau showed Elke the paper. It was a grainy, black-and-white picture of Xun, with the word “REWARD” printed in large letters underneath it.

  “Must be the movie people,” said Elke.

  “Yes,” said Isabeau. “Look, it says there at the bottom. They want to catch her!”

  “Or kill her,” said Ndlela. It says ‘wanted alive if possible’.”

  “But they don’t know where she is, right?” Isabeau held the poster tightly in one hand. “She’s safe here?”

  “As far as we know,” said Noor.

  “We’ve got to warn her!” Isabeau looked around the room as though planning to go at once.

  “Nope.” Noor lifted the lid of the pot and gave the food a stir. “You are not going anywhere and that is final.”

  “But Noor!”

  “Your sister’s right,” said Elke. “You’ll just be putting yourself in danger.”

  “But you could warn her, couldn’t you?” Isabeau stared at Elke, swaying as she leaned on her crutch.

  “I could,” said Elke reluctantly. “But Xun is pretty good at staying away from peopl
e, Isabeau. The most I could tell her is not to go back to Kaapstadt and it’s unlikely that she’d do that anyway.”

  “That’s true.” Isabeau wobbled over to a chair and sat in it, propping her crutch up against the table. “You think she’s safe out here?”

  “Xun can look after herself,” said Elke.

  “Stop bugging her, Issy,” said Noor. “What’s this other food here?”

  “That’s my contribution,” said Elke.

  “Oh?” Noor gave the food a stir and put the lid back on. “Somebody make space for this on the table, it’s hot. We can talk about this more after supper, Isabeau. Right now it’s time to eat.”

  ¤¤¤

  They laid a place for Elke and found a bowl she could use. The food Isabeau had made was surprisingly good. A vegetable stew flavoured with chillies, with strips of smoked pork. It went well with Elke’s contribution of rehydrated mashed sweet potato.

  At first, Noor didn’t speak much. She kept darting glances at Elke, as if she couldn’t quite decide whether to be friendly or suspicious. Isabeau concentrated on her food, and Ndlela did most of the talking, continuing a conversation they’d started while they were beach combing.

  “The Dutchies told me their work is going really well,” he said. “Leendert told me the other day that it won’t be long now before they start building houses behind the dikes.”

  This caught Noor’s attention. “Have they worked out all that stuff yet?” She served herself another helping of the stew. “Last I heard Leendert was raging on about how thick-headed everyone was being.” She caught Elke’s enquiring eye. “Community leaders, farmers, sangomas, representatives for everyone who’s supposed to come settle here. Thing is, they’ve got to explain to these people that they can’t just settle anywhere they want to. They have to stay behind the dikes, and they have to plan for sewage and water usage—” She gestured with her spoon. “Leendert can’t seem to get them to understand that they need to protect the Muara if they want to live here at all.”

  Elke watched Noor, enjoying the way the girl lost her prickly reticence when speaking about a topic she clearly cared about. “So they need to keep the settlers happy and protect the Muara too,” she said. “Not an easy job.”

  “The parts between the dikes and the sea must stay untouched,” put in Ndlela. “And the river must be cleaned up and stay clean. And then there’s hunting too. There aren’t that many game animals here, we can’t let them just hunt everything.”

  Noor nodded emphatically. “If they want to live here, they need to learn how to live here.” She tilted her bowl to scrape out the last of the stew. “You want more potato, Isabeau? There’s one more spoonful left.”

  When supper was over, Elke volunteered to wash the dishes. “And then we can have a look at that picture of your mother,” she said to Ndlela.

  Noor, who’d been about to get up, sat back in her seat with a thump. Even Isabeau looked apprehensive.

  “I asked her about Mom,” said Ndlela. “You know she’s from the Eye.” He looked at Noor as if daring her to object.

  “So,” said Noor to Elke. “Have you seen her? In the Eye?”

  “I don’t know anybody named Thandeka.” Elke wiped at a bowl with a rag, cleaning it as much as possible before using any of the children’s precious water for washing. “But Ndlela said you have a picture of her. Maybe if I see that I can tell for sure.”

  Noor pointed wordlessly at a pin-board covered with drawings and clippings. Ndlela unpinned a photograph from one corner. “Here she is.”

  Elke took the picture and studied it carefully. “No,” she said at last. “I’ve never seen her.”

  “Are you sure?” Noor watched her intently.

  “I’m sorry.” Elke held the picture out to Ndlela but he didn’t take it, so she put it on the counter top. “I am sure.”

  “You haven’t seen her anywhere in the Eye?” said Isabeau.

  Elke shook her head.

  “But there must be lots of people there,” said Isabeau. “Maybe you’ve just not seen her yet?”

  “It’s not such a big place.” Elke turned back to the dishes. “And your mother is a memorable woman.” She glanced at the picture again. It showed a woman with long, braided hair, dark skin and a wide, bright smile. Her eyes were sad, as though she’d seen more of life than most people. She looked like the kind of person who’d take charge of whatever situation she was in, naturally and with no fuss.

  Elke dampened the rag and started on the cooking pots. Noor put her arm around Isabeau, who resisted at first then buried her face in her sister’s shoulder.

  “I’ll just—” Isabeau sniffed and rubbed at her face, blinking. Then she pushed away and headed for the ladder.

  “Issy.” Noor reached out but Isabeau ignored her, climbing slowly, favouring her hurt ankle. She let the trapdoor fall shut behind her with a bang.

  For a while, nobody spoke. Elke finished the washing up while Ndlela tidied the kitchen.

  At last, Noor spoke. “She’s dead. Mom. She must be.”

  Ndlela flinched but didn’t speak.

  Noor rubbed the back of her hand over her dry eyes. “I think I’ve always known. When she didn’t come back. She’d never have left us alone like this for so long. Never.”

  Ndlela shook his head. “Noor. You don’t know that. You told me all the reasons, remember? She could be sick, or in prison, or maybe she’s lost or stuck somehow...”

  Noor didn’t seem to hear him. “She found Issy in a pile of rubbish.” Her words were soft, barely audible, as if she were talking to herself. “A little baby, a few hours old. I remember she brought her home and washed her. Issy was blue, so tiny. I thought she was dead. I was angry with Mom for trying to warm her up when it was clearly a waste of time, but Mom just kept on and kept on until Issy opened her mouth and made a sound like a little goat.”

  Noor swallowed hard.

  “Ndlela, his mother died when he was born.” She brushed some crumbs together into a little heap, then dispersed them again with her fingertips. “That was before we came here. Ndlela’s mother was just a girl, about my age. Something went wrong with the birth and they called Mom. She was— She is a really good midwife. The family didn’t want the baby. Well.” Noor gave a wry laugh. “I’m not sure if they didn’t want him, or if Mom wouldn’t let them have him. She called them a bunch of cold-hearted fish. So that’s how he came to us.

  “My parents didn’t want a girl. They asked Mom to ‘get rid’ of me. She never even told them that she kept me for herself. She just took me home with her.” Noor flattened her hands on the table and touched her fingertips together, staring down at them intently. “There were many other babies she saved. And their mothers too.”

  “Could she be in the Strange?” said Ndlela “That’s what the Eye is there for, isn’t it? It’s a gate into the Strange?”

  “I doubt it,” Elke said reluctantly. “Realworld people aren’t allowed through anymore. The last Realworlder who visited the Strange was Maxwell Jali, and that was almost eighty years ago. Strangers can come through to our side, but none of us can go through the strangeside portal. If there’s one thing we know for sure, it’s that your mother is not in the Strange.”

  Ndlela looked unconvinced but he didn’t argue the point any further.

  “Look,” said Elke. “Once I’m done here and things work out, I can go back to the Eye, see if I can find out what happened to her. I can check whether she ever arrived there in the first place. That will be in the portal records.”

  “You can do that?” said Ndlela.

  “Should be straightforward,” said Elke. “But first I need to deal with the situation here, figure out who it is who’s trying to frame me so I can clear my name and go back to the Eye without being arrested. I’ll be no use to you in jail.”

  “What’s in it for you, though?” Noor looked at her expressionlessly. “We can’t pay you anything, so you’re wasting your time if you’re hoping for money.”r />
  Elke’s heart sank. A moment before, Noor had seemed to be opening up to her. Now it looked as if she was regretting her moment of weakness.

  “I’m not looking for money,” she said wearily and finished rinsing the cloth she’d been using. “What do I do with this water?”

  “We put it on our plants,” said Ndlela. He avoided Elke’s eyes. “I’ll do it.”

  “Well.” Elke hung the cloth over the edge of the basin and wiped her hands on her trousers. “I’ll be off then.”

  Moraes

  Elke left the hotel with a heavy heart. There might be an explanation for the long absence of Thandeka Mahlangu, one that would end in a happy reunion for the children. Elke couldn’t believe it. The fact that the woman had stayed away so long, leaving her children by themselves, must mean that something had gone seriously and irrevocably wrong.

  This boyfriend of hers, this Jayden character sounds like bad news. What was he doing, hiding out here in the Muara with heat scopes and hidey-holes? Elke thought she might have some ideas about that. But I can’t get side-tracked now. First thing is to see if I can get to Moraes.

  Ndlela had pointed out the end of the pipe from a safe distance, when they were beach combing. The tide was still going out by the time she reached it, so she had to wait for a while, sitting on a rock with Meisje leaning against her leg. At last she judged that the waves had receded far enough and that it was dark enough to attempt the approach.

  The pipe mouth was not inviting, damp and dark and stinking of the sea. Elke had to crawl along on hands and knees, sometimes scraping her back against the rusty metal. Meisje came close behind, her claws clicking softly.

  It was a relief to reach the end and climb up against the side of the building. Elke slipped into mind-link with Meisje, taking advantage of the gardag’s sharp hearing. Everything was more distinct. The rough concrete pressing against her knees, the damp wind lifting her hair from her face. High above them stars twinkled beyond wisps of cloud.