Maud shook her head. She only remembered Blade, a tall young man with a friendly smile for everyone.
“She’s a wonderful girl. They got married and had a little boy: James. Soon after that Blade was offered a job at party headquarters in Pretoria. Very well paid. Of course, he couldn’t say no, so they moved almost a year ago. Lawu works in the same place, and they’re expecting another baby. Blade wants me to join them in Pretoria, and I’d love to do that. They’re the only family I have left, and I want to be near my grandchildren.”
It was a lot to take in. Maud didn’t say anything for a moment.
“So what will you do with all this?” she asked, spreading her arms wide.
“Sell up,” Sizi replied with a deep sigh.
To her surprise, Maud was filled with a feeling of melancholy. She’d planned to stay at the comfortable little hotel on her next visit, and now that wasn’t going to happen.
“I’ve just put the place on the market. I want a quick sale, so I’ve set the price at four million rand. That’s under market value, but at least I’ll be debt-free. The new house was a little more expensive than we’d expected. The monthly income from the student housing is around forty thousand rand.”
Shame I can’t buy it, Maud thought. To be fair, she could—if she sold her Anders Zorn painting. In fact, she would have several million kronor left over. But it was a wild idea. She couldn’t possibly move here; the winters in Cape Town are cold, rainy, and windy. And she liked her summers in Sweden. Plus, at her age, she was well aware that she could die at any time. Once again it crossed her mind that she had no heirs; all her money would go to the Swedish Inheritance Fund, which would allocate it to various nonprofit organizations and associations. I won’t have any say in the matter, she thought crossly.
“Forgive me, Maud. I must go. I have a hair appointment,” Sizi said, running a hand through her graying hair.
They set off together; Maud had her eye on a natural medicine store farther down the street. It was time to buy another bottle of Power of Life—or rather two. Morten Jensen couldn’t praise the elixir highly enough. Maud had refilled his little plastic bottle at regular intervals, and he followed her regime: four centiliters in the morning and the same again in the evening if necessary.
She and Sizi said goodbye with a quick hug. Sizi made Maud promise to pay her another visit before heading home to the frozen North; she gave Maud a card with her contact details.
“Give me a call to make sure I’m home,” she said.
The medicine store was in a row of several retail establishments. Just as Maud was about to push open the door, she saw a familiar figure from behind. There was something about the way he walked that caught her attention. He glanced around furtively and speeded up. He didn’t look over his shoulder, or he would have seen her. There was a young girl about twenty meters ahead of him.
Maud suddenly remembered what she’d seen that afternoon when she was sitting on her balcony on board the Queen of Zambezi.
Without hesitation, she let go of the door handle and set off after the man.
There was a large corrugated metal storage depot behind the shops, with a narrow alleyway running in between. The girl turned down the alley. The man followed her. Maud increased her speed and gripped her stick more firmly.
The stench of urine and rotting garbage was overwhelming. Overflowing trash cans stood by the back doors of the stores. Maud paused to allow her eyes to get used to the lack of light, and to take stock of the situation. What she saw made her incandescent with rage. The man had forced the girl to the ground between two of the trash cans; only their legs were visible.
Maud crept forward; the girl was lying motionless, her eyes wide with fear. The man was pulling down her panties with one hand, while the other was clamped over her mouth. This time, he thinks he’ll finish what he started, Maud thought. Not if I can help it. Maud immediately turned her stick upside down. She gripped it tightly just below the ferrule, and swung it like a golf club. The handle hit the man square on the temple with a satisfying crunch. The would-be rapist’s body jerked, then went limp. Maud managed to roll him off the girl; then, just to be on the safe side, she walloped him again in the same place.
The girl hadn’t moved. Maud, however, wasn’t looking at her, but at the man’s watch. An ostentatious piece, large and heavy, with lots of buttons and smaller dials. No doubt it did all kinds of clever things, but Pieter Booth wouldn’t be needing a watch for quite some time. Plus this had to look like a standard mugging. Quickly she bent down, took off the watch, and slipped it into her bag. Then she turned her attention to the girl.
“It’s all right. He can’t hurt you now. Take my hand,” she said gently.
The girl began to shake violently.
“It’s okay. Let’s get you home,” Maud encouraged her, calmly but firmly.
Even though she was deeply shocked, the girl nodded and took Maud’s outstretched hand. She couldn’t be more than eleven or twelve; she was wearing a blue skirt and white blouse. A school uniform. It must be the first day of the spring semester, Maud thought. Her school bag was lying on the ground. Maud picked it up and gave it to her.
“Let’s get out of here before he wakes up,” she said with a conspiratorial wink.
The girl’s big brown eyes were still full of fear, but she nodded and continued along the alley.
They were in luck; it didn’t look as if anyone had seen them. When they emerged into the sunshine on the wide main street, Maud made sure they were walking at the same pace as the other pedestrians. She had to hold her companion back, because the girl’s instinct was to break into a run. The white-haired old lady chatted in perfect English to the little Black girl about how things were going in school, which subjects she liked and disliked. No one seemed to notice that the responses were limited to a nod or shake of the head. In fact, nobody paid much heed to the odd couple at all.
They reached a road that cut across Coronation Street, and the girl led Maud onto a narrow lane with low stone houses. She stopped in front of a tall wooden gate, pushed it open, and beckoned to Maud to follow her. Maud hesitated; she looked like a sweet child, but Maud didn’t know anything about her, plus she didn’t want to have to explain the truth about what had happened. The girl ran to a small house, opened the door, and beckoned again. Maud took a deep breath and followed her.
It was hot inside, even though the house was shaded by the taller building next door. Maybe it was because someone had been using the oven; there was a tempting smell of something delicious baking. The ceiling was low; Maud was just able to stand upright. A woman was sitting at the table reading a book by the light coming in through a narrow window. A few seconds passed before Maud realized she was in a wheelchair. The girl went and stood behind her and wrapped her arms around the woman’s neck. She put her mouth close to her mother’s ear and explained in Afrikaans what had happened. Both wept, but the woman dried her tears and smiled at Maud.
“Thank you for saving my little girl. I can’t tell you how grateful I am,” she said in a shaky voice.
“It was the least I could do,” Maud replied, feeling uncomfortable.
The woman’s smile broadened. “I don’t think that comment applies when a lady of your age hits a younger man over the head and knocks him out! You have great courage. Come closer, please.”
She might have knocked him out, but Maud was well aware that the situation could be far more serious. She’d put all her strength into those two blows with her stick. She went over to the table and took the woman’s outstretched hand.
“My name is Bantuna M’Batha and this is my youngest daughter, Saku. She’s promised me she’ll never take that shortcut again.”
Saku let go of her mother and came over to Maud. She took Maud’s right hand, brought it to her lips and kissed it gently.
“Thank you. God bless you,” she said in E
nglish.
Maud didn’t quite know how to react; she simply let it happen. She looked up at the crucifix on the wall behind Bantuna’s wheelchair. There was a small, crowded bookcase beneath the crucifix, with a Bible and several hymn books on top. The house seemed to consist of one room measuring between twenty-five and thirty square meters. There was a sink in one corner. One tap, so presumably they had only cold water. An ancient stove with two hotplates and an oven. A double cupboard on the wall, with a small window beside it. Turning her attention to the other end of the room, Maud saw two beds, with an extra mattress underneath one of them and plastic boxes under the other. She assumed that was where they kept their clothes. Kitchen table, two wooden chairs. No rugs on the cement floor, and Maud could understand why: Bantuna needed to be able to get around in her wheelchair. The little room was spotless.
At that moment the door opened. Maud turned and saw the outline of a slender woman with the sunlight behind her. She asked her mother a question in Afrikaans, and Bantuna answered in English.
“This kind lady saved Saku from a rapist.”
The young woman came in and introduced herself as Zensile. She sat down at the table to hear the whole story. Meanwhile Saku led Maud to the other chair, then put a pan of water on the stove. She set out china mugs and a small jar with a lid, which turned out to contain sugar lumps.
“I’m afraid we only have rooibos tea. Is that okay?” Saku asked.
If there was one thing Maud couldn’t stand, it was redbush tea, but being polite was part of her DNA. She smiled and said, “That will be lovely, thank you.” She was glad to see the girl was talking again.
Saku took down a chipped white teapot and filled a tea infuser with leaves. While she waited for the water to boil, she arranged freshly baked scones on a plate, which she placed on the table along with mango jelly and orange marmalade.
“Mom’s been baking,” she said proudly.
“I’m afraid there’s no milk. We don’t have a refrigerator,” Bantuna said apologetically.
“That’s fine. I don’t take milk in my tea,” Maud assured her.
The scones were delicious. In spite of the fact that she’d had a substantial lunch, Maud managed to eat two while Bantuna told her the family’s tragic story.
Two years earlier, her eighteen-year-old son, Nelson, had passed his driving test. In order to celebrate, the whole family decided to go for a meal at a little restaurant on the way to Stellenbosch. Nelson would drive, and his father, Sidumo, would pay the bill. Everyone piled into the car, with Sidumo in the front passenger seat and Bantuna and the girls in the back. Just before they reached the restaurant they met a truck that suddenly swerved onto the wrong side of the road. The collision was unavoidable. Both men died instantly. Neither of the girls sustained life-threatening injuries; Saku broke her arm and Zensile suffered a concussion and a couple of cracked ribs. Bantuna’s spine was fractured. Within days at the hospital it became clear she would be paralyzed from the waist down for the rest of her life.
Their insurance covered the cost of emergency treatment, but not Bantuna’s rehabilitation. After a few months they were forced to sell their house; this little place was all they could afford now. Bantuna had worked as a finance officer with a company on the second floor of a building with no elevator, so she was fired while she was still in hospital. With tears in her eyes she said:
“So we’re living on the money left over from the sale of the house, and it will soon be gone. That’s why Zensile has had to give up her university studies and start working.”
This was very sad. In Maud’s world, education was a woman’s only route to independence.
“And what about Saku’s schooling?” she asked.
“That’s not a problem. She’s still in compulsory education, so the state contributes to the fees. It costs five thousand rand per term. She works hard, and she’s very bright: top marks in almost every subject.”
Maud thought for a moment, then turned to Zensile. “How much are your university fees?”
“Between twenty and twenty-five thousand rand per semester.”
That was obviously too much for the family to pay.
“What were you studying?”
“English and French. I already speak Afrikaans and my Xhosa isn’t too bad. I’ve been studying English since I was nine, and I chose French at junior high. But I really want to improve; I’d like to train as a language teacher.”
The contours of Bantuna and her daughters gradually faded before Maud’s eyes, and she found herself looking at another woman in an armchair, flanked by her two daughters. This woman was pale and weak, and very dear to her. On one side stood Charlotte, her face half-turned away; on the other stood Maud, staring straight into the camera with a serious expression. The framed sepia-colored photograph was on the chest of drawers in Maud’s bedroom. It had been taken a few months after darling Father’s death, when Maud had just begun her training to be a language teacher.
Something began to stir within her. It was a dizzying thought, and she couldn’t quite put it into words yet.
She looked at her watch and got to her feet. “Thank you for the tea and the delicious scones.”
“We’re the ones who should be thanking you for saving Saku from that horrible man,” Bantuna replied.
Maud met her gaze. And made up her mind. “Will you be at home tomorrow?”
“I’m nearly always at home.” Bantuna sounded surprised.
“In that case I’ll come and see you in the afternoon.”
“You’re very welcome.”
Maud turned to Zensile. “Would you walk with me to the bus stop?”
“Of course.”
As they approached the row of shops, Maud said, “I need to go into the natural medicine store. Could you please stroll around to the alley at the back? Don’t go down there, whatever you do. Pretend you don’t know what’s happened. Play dumb. See if you can find out how the man is.”
Zensile nodded. “No problem,” she said with the hint of a smile.
They parted company. Maud bought two bottles of Power of Life; when she emerged, she saw Zensile hurrying toward her.
The younger woman took her arm and said, “I’ll walk you to the bus stop.”
Maud noted that she was a little out of breath.
After a minute or so, Zensile said quietly, “I was lucky. I met a policeman I actually know. We were in school together. He was guarding the entrance to the alley to stop anyone from going down there, and I could see several officers moving around. My old classmate said they thought the white man had been robbed—or it could have been something to do with sex, because his pants were unzipped and . . . well, you know. He was unconscious when the ambulance arrived; they’re not sure if he’ll survive.”
Her voice gave way as she reached the end of her account. Maud was aware of a familiar sensation: ice in her veins making her brain crystal clear. She slowed down.
“Zensile, that man has done this before. Attacked a young girl and tried to rape her.”
She quickly explained what had happened on the trip to the Victoria Falls—how she’d seen Pieter Booth leave the ship around the time the eleven-year-old girl was assaulted.
“She was badly injured and ended up in the hospital. Believe me, my conscience is clear as far as Booth is concerned.”
Zensile nodded pensively. “So Saku could have been injured too. Maybe even . . . killed.” She took a deep breath. “He’s a monster and he deserves to die.”
The two women exchanged a brief glance of mutual understanding, then hurried toward the stop as they saw Maud’s bus pull up.
Maud paused on the bottom step. “Could you be at home at about three o’clock tomorrow?”
“Yes. I’m free between two-thirty and five, then I’m on the evening shift until nine. I work at checkout in a big supermarket.”
“Good. In that case, I’ll see you then,” Maud said before the doors closed.
When she got off a few stops later, there was a large, heavy Breitling watch pushed down the back of the seat. The chances of it ending up in the police lost property department were minimal, but she’d given it a thorough wipe just to be on the safe side.
Back in her hotel room, Maud poured herself the last of the Power of Life left in the old bottle. It was a generous dose, but she felt she needed it. She took a good swig, then picked up her phone and called Sizi Motlanthe.
It took her a while to explain her plan, but eventually Sizi was fully on board. They agreed to keep in touch the next day, by phone if nothing else.
Maud had another sip of the elixir. She really felt as if she needed an extra shot of “life power” before she spoke to her banker. As the time difference between Sweden and South Africa is only three hours, Eva-Maria Jacobsson was still at her desk. When Maud outlined her requirements, Eva-Maria was lost for words until she reminded herself that clients can actually do whatever they want with their own money. She also knew that eighty-eight-year-old Maud was a lot sharper when it came to finances than most of Eva-Maria’s colleagues. She entered the discussion with Maud with renewed energy.
“I’ll appoint a good lawyer I know,” Eva-Maria promised.
When the call was over, Maud took a deep breath. It was done; the bank and the lawyer would help her. The most difficult conversation remained, however.
After another strengthening sip of the dark liquid, she called a number she’d added to her contacts list six months earlier.
At six o’clock, the little group gathered around a table in the hotel bar for pre-dinner drinks. Maud thought this was a very pleasant habit that they’d developed, allowing her just enough interaction with her fellow travelers before she needed some time for herself. She handed a bottle of Power of Life to Morten Jensen, who thanked her profusely. At the first taste of her G&T, the tension began to leave Maud’s body. It had been a hectic day. Life-changing, in fact, and she felt satisfied. If this worked out, everything would change for the better. She began to raise the glass to her lips again, but froze when she saw two uniformed police officers enter the hotel. They accosted a waiter and said something; he turned and pointed to Maud’s group. The officers came over to their table.
An Elderly Lady Must Not Be Crossed Page 12
