Lindi felt his finger as he worked it under her pants. She felt sick and retched. The man pulled away from her. Lindi turned around and, without thinking, she spat at him. He slapped her, slashing her cheek with his nails as she tried to evade the blow.

‘I have to charge you now for assaulting a police officer. You are going to be in big trouble.’

It was the last thing she needed. She had drawn attention to herself. She thought through her options.

‘Look, I should not have done that. I apologise.’

The officer moved closer to her again. ‘So what are you going to do for me? I have to have some compensation.’ That smile again. That foetid breath again. He placed his arms above her shoulders. ‘We can try again. This time you can enjoy it.’

‘Look, those people have been waiting for me. I’ve got some money in my bag. It’s in the coach. Let me go and you can have your compensation.’

‘The driver told me that you are defending them, those Mozambicans.’

‘That’s because they have done nothing wrong. You should be helping them, not harassing them.’

‘Don’t tell us how to do our jobs in South Africa. We don’t need people like you here. You are a troublemaker. We can send you back to your own country.’

Lindi ducked under his arms. He didn’t stop her, just looked at her with disgust and spat, ‘Okay, go and fetch your money.’

He followed her out. She made a dash for the coach, which she was relieved to see was still there. Once inside she found her wallet and pulled out fifty rand, then another fifty. She decided to stay in her seat and beckoned the police officer to come on board the bus.

‘Come out! You have to come out,’ he shouted.

‘I’m staying where I am. If you want the money you have to come and get it.’

Resistance at last. Only a gesture but it felt good all the same.

The officer turned around. The man in charge was back. He looked at the driver. ‘You can go now.’ As the coach pulled away, Lindi looked at the officer. He pointed at her and drew a finger across his neck.

Lindi was furious: she had become the centre of attention. The officer had made sure of that. It wasn’t her fault. She told herself she hadn’t had a choice. But now what? For all she knew her presence on the bus was being conveyed from one police post to the next. She had to get below the radar. She thought about calling Anton, but what could he do? She was on her own. There had been a time when the thought might have unsettled her, crippled her confidence. Not now, not any more.