An Elderly Lady Must Not Be Crossed

by Helene Tursten

  The victim was an eleven-year-old girl, the daughter of one of the ship’s crew members. The family lived in a little village just over a mile away. She’d been assaulted and had suffered severe head injuries. The attack had taken place during the afternoon of the day Queen of Zambezi had been moored at the quay. The girl had regained consciousness early the next morning. She remembered nothing of the attack; she just kept repeating “white man.” She was unable to give a more detailed description of her assailant.

  The police left at about six, having found nothing suspicious. However, the events of the past few hours had taken their toll on everyone. Pieter came into the bar, where his group was waiting.

  “I’ve spoken to the captain and arranged for all passengers to sleep on board tonight because we’ve missed the last plane. Dinner will be served at the usual time, but we need to leave at six in the morning to catch the first flight. The chef will prepare sandwiches, tea, and coffee for us to grab as we leave. Don’t forget to collect yours. There will be no opportunity to get anything to eat or drink until we land in Johannesburg,” he explained.

  For the first time, Maud thought she could see signs of weariness in their young guide. She could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice.

  They met at eight for a drink before dinner, but the atmosphere was subdued. Most people went straight to their cabins once they’d eaten.

  With a sandwich in one hand and a hot to-go coffee in the other, the members of the South Africa Grand Tour group were seated on the minibus at six o’clock on the dot. They all looked tired, and no one even attempted to start a conversation.

  The flight back to Johannesburg passed without incident. Luhandre fetched their minibus from the parking lot and quickly stowed their luggage. It was as if everyone shared the feeling of wanting to get away from some nameless danger.

  Pieter picked up the microphone and just about managed a smile. “Okay, so now we’re finally on the way to the central area of Kruger National Park. We’ll be staying at the Royal Safari Camp, a private camp in Hoedspruit. It’s a fantastic place, right on the edge of the park. There’s a pool, and the rooms are top class. There are multiple restaurants to choose from as part of your all-inclusive package.”

  “I’m sure it’s fantastic, but we’re missing a whole day there,” Elisabeth interrupted him.

  She’s absolutely right, and it needs pointing out, Maud thought approvingly.

  Pieter looked uncomfortable, although he tried to hide it. “Yes . . . Of course, you’ll be compensated . . . somehow. I need to speak to the main office in Cape Town. We’ll sort it out when we get there.”

  A little while later, Maud heard Morten offering to lend Lars his camera since Lars’s lens had broken when he fell. Lars protested—Surely Morten would need it himself?—but the Dane laughed and explained that it was brand new, but much too complicated for him. It had two fine lenses, neither of which Morten had managed to attach to the camera. The only condition was that Lars send him a copy of all the wonderful photographs he took. Lars was delighted and didn’t know how to thank him.

  “Just send me the pictures and we’re good.” Morten laughed and handed over his expensive Canon to Lars.

  Lars spent the rest of the journey studying the manual and familiarizing himself with all the camera’s functions. There was a kind of glow around him; the trip was saved! He would be able to take more fantastic shots of birds, although Maud hoped he would snap the odd lion or elephant for Morten’s sake.

  Everyone let out a sigh of relief when the bus pulled up outside the main building of the Royal Safari Camp. Low stone lodges with grass roofs surrounded a larger two-story building, with a sparkling pool just meters away. The main block housed reception, a bar, a spa and health center, a gym, shops selling clothes and souvenirs, washing machines, plus a dry cleaner’s.

  Who the hell has their clothes dry cleaned on safari? Maud wondered, snorting to herself. In her eyes there was nothing fancy about a real safari. A real safari was about the deserted savanna and the bush right outside your tent, gathering around the camp fire at night, going to bed early and rising with the sun to look for wildlife. Besides, Maud thought, a lion will hardly care if its lunch is wearing a well-pressed shirt or not.

  The only thing that met her expectations was the need to get up early. They were woken before sunrise the next morning and had to dress quickly before clambering on board one of the two open jeeps. Each jeep took five people, including the driver, who also acted as their guide. Maud was with Fredrik Ziander and Elisabeth Carlethon; no doubt they imagined that Maud hadn’t noticed them discreetly holding hands in the back seat. She was in the front next to their driver, Cyril Mbeki. He was almost two meters tall and powerfully built. He was armed with a rifle, which he assured them he’d never had to use. Maud wasn’t completely convinced that he was telling the truth, but decided not to press him.

  The two jeeps set off together. After only fifteen minutes they saw a large herd of buffalo; according to Cyril they were on their way to one of the man-made waterholes to drink. As the jeeps slowly approached the waterhole, they also saw impalas and zebras. Four giraffes stood a short distance away munching the leaves of an acacia tree.

  Cyril scanned the area with his binoculars. Suddenly he stopped, focused on a particular spot. “Direct your binoculars toward the giraffes,” he said quietly.

  His passengers obediently complied.

  “Now move slightly to the left: the bushes beneath the acacia. Can you see something moving?”

  Maud saw a slow, sinuous movement. A lioness—with another close behind her.

  “Lions!” Elisabeth said.

  “Keep watching,” Cyril said.

  Nothing happened for the next few minutes, apart from the big cats prowling in the shade. A little zebra foal began grazing on the grass by the water’s edge, and as if on a given signal three lionesses burst out of the bushes. They attacked the foal, which didn’t stand a chance, and quickly killed it. In the other jeep Lars had already attached the largest lens, and snapped away constantly.

  “Oh my God, that’s horrible!” Elisabeth exclaimed.

  Maud thought that as a dentist, she ought to be used to the sight of blood. Susanne covered her mouth with her hands, but didn’t say a word. The only sound was the clicking of Lars’s camera.

  The animals around the waterhole quickly dispersed, but once the lions had dragged their prey away, they soon returned. Calm was restored.

  “That’s life. And death,” Cyril said laconically.

  That was the most dramatic incident during the three morning safaris Maud went on. They saw elephants, buffalo, lions, a rhino, and a leopard—in other words, the “Big Five.” That would do nicely, Maud thought. She’d never been a morning person, and didn’t intend to become one now she was approaching ninety. Therefore she decided to sleep in on the last two days. According to Cyril it was remarkable that they’d actually seen a rhino, as poachers have nearly driven them to extinction. Maud briefly thought back to the poachers who had been hunting her: the detectives who kept showing up at her door in Gothenburg. May they get trampled by a hippopotamus, she thought to herself with a smile.

  New Year’s Day is a holiday in South Africa, so there was no early safari. Which was just as well, because most of the residents at the Royal Safari Camp needed their sleep after the celebrations the previous night. Just as in Johannesburg, they’d been invited to a braai. This time several restaurants had gotten together to put on a huge barbecue. The guests were tourists from all over the world, plus a few South Africans from Johannesburg who wanted to breathe some fresh air and go out on safari. They shared a table with Maud and her traveling companions. Elisabeth was in an excellent mood because it was her fiftieth birthday. She kept telling them, what a fantastic birthday party she was having as she ordered more champagne.

  One of the women from the other group as
ked her if she’d seen the “Big Five.”

  “Oh, yes. In fact the leopard almost landed on my head!” Elisabeth announced triumphantly, looking around at her audience. Everyone stared at the striking blonde, lost for words. A leopard almost landing on her head—that was hard to beat. And it was true, as Maud and Cyril could confirm. Susanne and Lars Håkansson had been in the other jeep, but they’d seen it too. The Jensens had stayed in their lodge because Morten wasn’t feeling well.

  It had happened on the second morning. Cyril had parked their jeep in the shade of the acacia trees when Elisabeth announced that she “needed the bathroom.” The other jeep was about ten meters away. Lars had spotted a little bird strutting around on the ground—some kind of heron, Maud thought he’d said. That was why they’d stopped. As they were in the middle of nowhere, an hour’s drive from camp, all Elisabeth could do was find some suitable vegetation where she could crouch down. Cyril picked out a little grove that would do, and went ahead to make sure there were no animals lying there. He grabbed a stick that was lying on the ground and bashed at the undergrowth. Snakes, Maud thought with a shudder.

  When nothing happened, he came back and gave Elisabeth the thumbs up. She slid out of the jeep, hurried over and disappeared into the bushes. After a while she emerged and headed for the jeep. When she was only a couple of meters away, a large animal thudded down behind her. A leopard, whose sleep had been disturbed, had decided to move to a quieter location. Something that definitely reinforced his decision was the yell Elisabeth let out. He turned and slunk into the bushes she’d just left.

  When Elisabeth recounted the story, she didn’t say she’d needed a pee, just that she’d wanted to stretch her legs. She also omitted the loud yell. Maud wasn’t one to spoil a good yarn, even if it wasn’t entirely truthful.

  The next few days passed peacefully. Maud booked several spa treatments, went for short walks in the area, or sat on her balcony reading. She’d started ordering room service for lunch and dinner; it cost only a few rand extra, and it was well worth it. Although she liked everyone in her group, she found all the social interaction extremely tiring. She was used to looking after herself and spending time alone; that was how she lived, and it suited her perfectly. This life of luxury had its advantages, of course, but to be honest it was also kind of boring. She was beginning to long for Cape Town, a place she loved and had often dreamed of revisiting. She had every intention of spending most of her time there alone!

  The city welcomed them with sunshine. A warm, stiff breeze was blowing across the parking lot as Luhandre led them to their minibus.

  “This wind is called the Cape Doctor,” Pieter informed them. “It’s thought to clear away all pollution. It only occurs in the summer.”

  Maud was the first to board the bus, and took the window seat at the front behind Luhandre. At last they were in Cape Town, and she didn’t want to miss a thing. As in Johannesburg, they took a short tour on the way to their hotel. Maud could see that there had been many changes over the past five years, but she still knew her way around.

  The hotel was in Green Point, not far from the Waterfront. It was luxurious and brand new. Maud’s room was on the eleventh floor, with a stunning view over the Atlantic. The décor was modern and trendy, with brightly colored paintings by new African artists displayed on the walls. It was wonderful, yet Maud couldn’t help thinking back with affection to the little hotel where she’d stayed on her previous visit. It had been run by a married couple, John and Sizi Motlanthe. The rooms were airy and pleasant, with potted plants in the windows. Every morning Sizi set out a delicious breakfast on the glassed-in terrace. Maud had thoroughly enjoyed her week there; she’d liked both John and Sizi very much. They must be about sixty now. Maybe she should go and see them. Why not? She decided to play it by ear if she found herself in the area.

  She unpacked her few possessions and got ready for welcome drinks and dinner. A quick glance at the program told her that it would be yet another braai. She sighed. The grilled meat and accompaniments were always delicious, but it was a heavy meal to digest so late in the evening. Personally she would have preferred a lighter fish or seafood dish, which she’d made the most of on her last visit.

  During welcome drinks in the bar, Pieter addressed the group: “Tomorrow morning, we’ll be going to the Cape Town Diamond Museum at eleven o’clock—an experience not to be missed! Lunch is at a restaurant called Den Anker, which is marked on the map at the back of your program. You then have a free afternoon.”

  Maud had never been interested in diamonds. She had a word with Pieter as they set off to the braai.

  “I won’t be coming to the museum tomorrow.”

  “But Luhandre is driving us there.”

  “I’m not coming,” she reiterated firmly.

  “You’ll join us for lunch though?”

  “I’ll see how I feel,” she said in her best tired-old-lady voice.

  Pieter nodded to show that he understood. Elderly ladies needed time to recover toward the end of a lengthy tour like this one.

  The following morning, Maud woke early, feeling fresh and well rested, with a tingle of excitement in her tummy. She suddenly realized that Cape Town had been the main attraction all along. Johannesburg and the safaris had been interesting, but this was where she’d wanted to be.

  After a generous buffet breakfast she went out into the warm sunshine. It was pleasant at the moment, but would get a little hotter over the course of the day. The Cape Doctor had dropped to a gentle breeze. Using her stick for support when necessary, she made her way to the Waterfront, which is regarded as a shopper’s paradise, with hundreds of stores. However, it was the proximity to the water that attracted Maud. Visitors could take a boat trip around the harbor and out to Robben Island, where Nelson Mandela was imprisoned for so many years. Maud had already been there. She strolled along the quays, wondering what to do with her day. Once again she thought of John and Sizi Motlanthe, and decided to go and see them.

  She got on the Hop-On-Hop-Off bus and bought a one-day ticket. It took a little longer with the tourist bus, but on the other hand she felt safer. It turned back at the university, so she had to take a local service for the last mile or so.

  Maud peered through the tall wrought-iron gate; the place seemed very quiet, and the hotel sign had been taken down. Maud wondered if John and Sizi had moved. There was a newly built two-story stone house next to the original property. The ground floor boasted a large glass veranda, while the upper floor had a terrace above the veranda. It was beautiful. She stood there for a long time, wondering whether to go in.

  “Miss Maud?”

  The voice behind her made her jump. She turned and saw Sizi—thinner and more haggard, but instantly recognizable. She was carrying a bag of groceries in each hand.

  “Good morning, Sizi! I’ve come back to Cape Town, and I wanted to see how you and John were.”

  Sizi dropped the bags, came over, and gave her a big hug. Maud stiffened, but at the same time she felt a warm glow inside, coupled with surprise at Sizi’s reaction. They hadn’t seen each other for five years, nor had they kept in touch by letter or email, and yet Sizi had remembered her and seemed pleased to see her. However, when Sizi loosened her grip and stepped back, Maud saw that there were tears pouring down her face. Before she could ask what was wrong, Sizi said in a voice thick with tears:

  “Oh, Miss Maud. So much has happened. So much . . .” She fell silent, shook her head slowly and looked at Maud for a long time, then continued, “I have roast chicken and vegetables for lunch. All I have to do is heat it all up. I’d be very pleased if you would join me.”

  “That would be lovely,” Maud replied before she had time to think.

  She followed Sizi into the silent house. Nothing had changed, as far as she could see. Sizi asked her to take a seat at one of the tables on the veranda while she made lunch.

 
Maud sat gazing out over the glorious garden. An elderly man was busy watering the flowerbeds with a hose. The whole place was surrounded by a high wall, topped with sharp iron spikes; the only access was through the gate. The area between Woodstock and Observatory was pretty quiet, but there is a high volume of crime in Cape Town. Maud assumed that everyone had to do their best to protect what was theirs. That was certainly something she could relate to.

  Sizi joined her with a plate in each hand; the food smelled wonderful. Maud suddenly realized how hungry she was, which was surprising given the substantial breakfast she’d had. They began to eat, chatting about Maud’s experiences on her travels in the northern part of the country. After lunch Sizi brought out coffee and chocolate cookies. She sat down and looked at Maud with sorrow in her eyes.

  “My John died . . . a heart attack . . . in November. He hadn’t been ill. One minute he was here with me, the next he was . . . gone,” she said, her voice breaking.

  Eventually she was able to tell Maud what had happened over the past five years. The new house had been built four years ago so that Sizi and John could move in there, along with their only son, Blade, and his little family. Before that, John and Sizi had occupied a three-room apartment on the top floor of the hotel, while Blade had lived in a cramped rented apartment in central Woodstock. John had decided to give up the hospitality business; it required a twenty-four seven commitment, plus a lot of staff. There are lots of students in Woodstock because it’s near the university, so the hotel had been converted into student housing.

  “I have twelve tenants at the moment, all good girls. I do have rules though. For example, the gate gets locked at a certain time every day. And no boys are allowed in the rooms, of course. No drugs or alcohol. Anyone who breaks any of the rules is given notice immediately and must move out. It works very well, because the girls look after themselves. The problem is that John died. And Blade moved out.”

  She refilled both coffee cups and continued. “As you know, Blade has been politically active within the ANC ever since he was a teenager. He studied English and politics at university—that’s where he started dating Lawu. I don’t think you met her, did you?”