He’d been flicking through several other South African news websites and one line, five words, caught his attention. It was a headline in a bold font: ‘Priest Dies In Car Crash’. Mentally, he lined up the sequence of events he feared: he hadn’t heard from Lindi; Lindi was due to meet a priest; a priest had died in a car crash; Lindi had been in the car with him; she, too, was either dead or injured. He read on, scanning whole lines at a time, dreading some mention of a passenger. But there was nothing. Police said their work had been hampered by the fact that the car had caught fire.

That did it. He pulled out his phone and dialled Lindi’s number. The line was dead.

18

Kagiso imagined the café filling up. He could hear the morning commuters, mostly men, giving their orders, flirting with Mama Khethiwe, and her typically robust but endearing replies. It wasn’t her slab-like jam sandwiches or milky teas that drew the same people to Mama K’s day after working day. It wasn’t the hot lunchtime pies or steaming pap with mutton curry either. There were plenty of other places that offered all that. They came because Mama Khethiwe had a way of fortifying their souls, too, preparing them for a day of labour. Her café was like an outpost of their homes, a last chance to feel cared for and respected before they steeled themselves for hours of being told where to go, what to do and how to do it.

He began to worry that Lindi would look conspicuous when she arrived and tried to see her through the eyes of the people on the other side of the door. One of the many unexpected consequences of political freedom was the inclusion of South Africa on the backpacker trail. In the early days, these young, almost exclusively white, travellers had been something of a talking point. Their interest in ‘black culture’ had been a refreshing contrast to the fearful disdain that had been drilled into most of the local white population. But now the dishevelled tourists, who seemed to carry their life’s belongings on their backs, were barely remarked on, except for the numerous complaints about how little money they had to spend. He guessed Lindi would be counted among their number and felt reassured.

He waited.