Piranha. Rudie van Rensburg

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      The chief made a long speech in broken English and, to the sound of enthusiastic applause, a clay pot was handed to the beaming Sophia as a gift.

      Then it was time for the kiganda dance.

      The women moved their hips to the beat of the drums and melodies from homemade guitars, while they kept their upper bodies still enough to balance bottles of beer on their heads. Sophia laughed and clapped her hands. The Baganda began to sing. As the rhythm sped up, the dancers moved faster and faster. Their bodies trembled, their skins shone with sweat. The mesmerising dance ended half an hour later in a climax intensified by the shouts and cries of the onlookers.

      I looked towards Sophia, but the smile froze on my face. Smiley had his arm around her shoulders, her hand was on his thigh and they were staring into one another’s eyes, entirely unaware of my presence.

      7

      Maria Wolhuter’s house looked neglected. The paint on the walls of the impressive double-storey was peeling off in patches. Khaki bush grew thigh-high in a rose bed. The water in the fishpond was green and murky with trails of sludge drifting on the surface.

      Maria opened the door before Kassie reached it. She was smiling.

      ‘You haven’t changed a bit, Kassie,’ she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. ‘You have no idea how glad I am that you’ve come.’

      He followed her into the spacious living room where toys lay strewn across the carpet.

      ‘Sorry about the mess.’ She motioned for him to sit down in an armchair opposite her. ‘Fransie dumped all his cars here after school, but he’s staying over at a friend’s this evening and didn’t tidy up before he left. I’m sorry.’

      ‘How old is he now?’ Kassie asked.

      ‘Eight. It was his birthday the day before yesterday.’ She shook her head. Her eyes were suddenly shiny. ‘Poor thing. He hoped his father would …’

      Maria had aged considerably since he’d last seen her. There was a new network of wrinkles across her face and her once pitch-black hair had streaks of grey in it. She was thinner and her cheeks looked sunken, her hands bony. She was in her early forties, but she looked over fifty.

      ‘Tell me about Barnie,’ Kassie said.

      She sat back in the chair, her face tight, her eyes on her interlaced fingers. ‘You don’t want to know … His life just spun out of control after he left the police.’ She looked up at him. ‘Drugs.’

      ‘Drugs?’ Kassie was surprised.

      She nodded. ‘He’s been addicted for ages. He stole and sold all the jewellery I inherited to buy drugs. He blew practically his entire salary on drugs every month. And he earned a lot.’ She sighed. ‘I kicked him out three years ago. A while back he lost his job. He’s been living on the streets.’

      She leaned her head on her hand. ‘I’m going to have to sell this place and look for a job. Barnie used up all my money … and obviously there’s no child maintenance. I’m struggling. Fransie’s suffering.’

      There were tears in her eyes, but she wiped them away quickly. ‘Can I get you some coffee?’

      ‘Not for me, thank you. You said on the phone that Barnie’s disappeared. What makes you think that?’

      She shifted towards him in her chair. ‘Barnie used to come and visit Fransie every week. That was the one thing he could be relied on to do. I wouldn’t allow him into the house any more, because it was exhausting to keep an eye on him to make sure he wouldn’t steal things. But every Tuesday afternoon, without fail, he was here to visit Fransie and the two of them would play in the garden. It was the highlight of Fransie’s week. But the past few Tuesdays, Barnie hasn’t arrived. It’s devastating for Fransie, of course. It was his birthday on Wednesday, and I was so sure his father would come. Barnie has never forgotten his son’s birthday.’

      ‘And he didn’t come?’

      She nodded.

      ‘You have to remember,’ said Kassie, trying to reassure her, ‘that drug addicts aren’t known for their reliability. He might just have forgotten. Or he was in no state to come.’

      ‘That was my thought too. But Fransie was so upset I decided to go looking for Barnie yesterday and this morning. There’s no trace of him.’

      ‘Do you know where he stays?’

      ‘Yes. Here, in Newlands, under the railway bridge near the rugby stadium. A friend of ours once saw him there. I took him with me yesterday, but none of the guys who sleep there knew where Barnie was. I went again this morning …’

      ‘You shouldn’t,’ Kassie said. ‘It’s not safe.’

      ‘I’m desperate, Kassie.’

      He smiled reassuringly. ‘Go on.’

      ‘There was a man there this morning called Boepie. He wasn’t there yesterday. He told me he and Barnie were good friends, but he hasn’t seen him for three weeks. He found it strange, because Barnie’s been living there for five months. He showed me where Barnie slept under the bushes. I recognised the blanket I gave him a while back. And there was a brand-new toy car, still in its packaging. Boepie said Barnie’d bought it for his son’s birthday.’

      She wiped a hand over her tired face. ‘This afternoon I called the hospitals. And all the police stations in the Southern Suburbs. No trace of him.’

      She started crying, her shoulders shaking hard.

      ‘Fransie will be devastated if something’s happened to his father,’ she managed to get out between her sobs. ‘Please find him for me, Kassie. Please!’

      * * *

      That was the weekend my hatred for Smiley germinated. In time, it would grow into an all-consuming bitterness.

      He and Sophia were all over one another. I sat in my rondavel feeling sorry for myself. It felt as though my life had no purpose. I was a total failure. In the darkest hours of the night, my burning jealousy turned to thoughts of revenge. The master stroke in my plan for retribution was to tell Vicci about Smiley’s faithlessness on Monday morning.

      It boomeranged badly. Vicci and Sophia ended up pushing one another around at break and I landed in the principal’s office for ‘spreading malicious rumours about Smiley and Sophia’.

      Not long after, Sophia and her family moved back to England. Uganda was not for them, and Sophia wasn’t meant for either Smiley or me.

      Life went on. Vicci and Smiley stayed happily together, while I was left single, bitter and brooding.

      But Uganda was a lonely place without friends. Smiley went out of his way to win me back. He even apologised, which, as far as I know, was a first – and a last – for him.

      * * *

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