Or perhaps he was just as afraid of her as she was of him.
Flathead’s chest heaved with impotent rage and small erratic noises escaped from his throat. He shoved Karabo hard on the shoulder but she stood her ground. That unnerved him and he went back to calling her names. The other boys looked at each other, unsure which side to take.
All of a sudden Karabo felt a sharp tug on her arm.
‘Leave my daughter alone!’
Her mother was a small woman but when she was angry she fluffed up like a wet chicken. She shouted at the boys. ‘Don’t you have homes to go to?’
‘Ewe, Mama,’ one of the boys replied meekly. He was the smallest and the best dressed of the four. ‘We do.’
‘Go home then!’
They walked away, four abreast across the road. They did the jive walk, with a choreographed limp and one arm swinging to keep time. Precious and Karabo watched them go. When they were out of sight Precious seized Karabo’s hand and slapped her hard on the back of the wrist.
‘Have you lost your mind, Karabo? Walking out here on your own!’
‘Why did you bring me here then?’ Karabo retorted, rubbing the hand where her mother had hit her. ‘I’ll tell Teacher you came to see igqirha!’
Precious exhaled sharply and hunched her shoulders. It was as if Karabo had drawn her arm back and punched her in the stomach. Then she straightened and looked right at her daughter. There was a bitter smile on her lips.
‘Go on,’ she said softly. ‘Tell Teacher. Go and tell your boyfriend.’
CHAPTER 10
Karabo was awoken by a violent knocking at the front door. She sat up in her bed and heard someone calling out above Saddam’s wild barking.
‘Teacher! Teacher!’
She clambered down from the bed and pulled the curtain back a little way. It was Fezeka, the girl from Aunt Thembeka’s house.
Her mother’s shrill voice rang through the house. ‘Who is it?’
Then Teacher groaned, his voice still heavy with sleep. ‘It’s Thembeka’s girl,’ he said.
‘Fezeka?’ Precious cried. ‘Why is she here at this time? Has something happened to Thembeka?’
Karabo quickly pulled on a pair of trousers and a T-shirt. As she dressed, she wondered why, whenever there was a problem on her mother’s side of the family, it was Teacher they always called first and not Precious. She opened the front door and found a little girl with spindly arms standing on the doorstep with Saddam panting enquiringly next to her. Karabo pushed Saddam aside with her foot and took Fezeka in her arms.
‘Don’t cry,’ she whispered to the little girl. ‘Don’t cry.’
She was still holding Fezeka when Teacher and Precious joined them. Precious was beside herself with worry.
‘Fezeka!’ she cried. ‘What has happened? Is Thembeka all right?’
‘Calm down,’ Teacher said. ‘Can’t you see how frightened she is?’
‘What do you mean, calm down?’ Precious snapped. ‘Something has happened to my sister and you are telling me to calm down?’ She pulled her gown tightly around her body, accentuating the outline of her nipples, which were hard and stiff in the cold morning air.
‘We cannot stand here,’ Teacher said and ushered them all inside.
Still snivelling, Fezeka drew her chair as close to Karabo as she could. Precious and Teacher sat on the other side of the kitchen table.
‘Now, Fezeka,’ Teacher said gravely, ‘tell us what has happened.’
Fezeka was painfully thin. Next to Karabo, she looked underfed. She could not have been more than ten years old and her feet didn’t even touch the floor. But Fezeka’s hesitation only fuelled Precious’s impatience and she could not keep still. She wrung her hands in despair. ‘Dear Jesus,’ she moaned, ‘send your angels to protect Thembeka. And take Khanyiswa and Khethiwe with you. They know where Thembeka lives.’
Karabo could barely remember her deceased aunts Khanyiswa and Khethiwe and she thought her mother’s exhortations were vaguely embarrassing. It wasn’t right to snatch at any passing spirit who was in the vicinity and might be willing to lend a hand.
‘Can you tell us what happened?’ Karabo asked Fezeka. She did her best to keep her voice as gentle as possible.
When the little girl nodded but still didn’t speak, Precious yelled at her in frustration. ‘Don’t you have a mouth?’
Teacher held up a hand to stop Precious’s hysteria from spewing over.
‘What happened, Fezeka? How did you get into the yard?’
‘She must have climbed over the gate,’ Karabo said.
Teacher’s eyebrows arched in surprise. ‘And Saddam just let her in?’
Precious shrieked in frustration. ‘Why are we talking about that stupid creature? Don’t you know he is useless as a guard dog?’ She turned to Fezeka and glowered at the little girl. ‘You’d better tell us what happened before I lose my temper.’
The girl cast her eyes down at the table. She appeared to be studying the grain in the wood.
‘Aunt Thembeka beat me,’ she said in a small voice.
But her revelation only incensed Precious even more. ‘Fezeka! Fezeka!’ she cried. ‘You woke us up at this hour because Thembeka beat you? Come here, I will beat you myself!’
Fezeka buried her head in her arms and began to sob. It was then Karabo saw the deep cut on the back of her neck. The blood had clotted around it but the edges of the wound were white and fleshy against the darkness of her skin. The back of her dress was ripped and caked with dried blood.
‘Look, Fezeka is hurt,’ Karabo said.
Teacher leaned over the kitchen table to see for himself.
‘Take Fezeka to the bathroom and wash her,’ he said swiftly. ‘There’s antiseptic in the cupboard.’
Karabo stood up and led Fezeka away to the bathroom. She left the door open so she could hear her parents’ conversation.
‘You really must put Thembeka in a home,’ Teacher said. ‘It’s not right for her to be in the care of a ten-year-old child.’
Her mother’s answer was bitter and swift. ‘You know we don’t have money for a home.’
‘I don’t mean a private home,’ her father replied. ‘The government has places for people like Thembeka.’
‘You mean I should send my sister away to die?’
For once Teacher had nothing to say. They’d been talking on the radio the other day about how terrible state facilities for the elderly could be. Some frail care homes were little more than perverted hospices, places where an inmate’s last days were made as hellish as possible through ignorance, neglect and a lack of funds.
‘At least send her to live with an older relative,’ Teacher said at last. ‘A girl Fezeka’s age should be in school.’
‘You know Thembeka won’t leave that house,’ Precious cried. ‘And even if she would, no one will take her. Not even you!’
Teacher didn’t have an answer to that either. ‘We have no space here,’ he said dully and from Precious’s sudden silence, Karabo knew they both knew he was lying.
‘Let’s go and see Thembeka,’ Teacher said. ‘Maybe we can talk some sense to her this time.’
And that was the barest lie of all.
Aunt