30

FAULT LINES

‘WHERE IS THAT GIRL?’ SISTER IMMACULATA DEMANDED. ‘You were supposed to keep a careful eye on her with Nokwe standing guard.’

‘I don’t know, honestly.’ Sister Hilary wrung her hands. ‘I gave her tea and sandwiches and things to read, but she was bored sitting there. It’s been hours. Nearly all day. We couldn’t expect her to—’

‘Climbed out the window, you said?’

‘It was open when I took in her afternoon tea. We ran out at once and looked up and down the road. She’d vanished, though. Not a trace.’

‘Did you ask Vigilance if he’d seen her? He notices everything.’

Sister Nokwe hung her head. ‘I didn’t think of that.’

‘You two are so irresponsible! Father Liam has just phoned to say that the famous author and Mother Esmé have arrived and should be here within an hour. And what do we have? An empty room. Our witness has disappeared. Do you realise what that means? Two extremely important people have come all this way for nothing. And you know how much pain our dear Mother suffers.’

The sisters sneaked sideways looks at each other for mutual sympathy as Sister Immaculata fumed on.

‘What could be the most wonderful thing ever to happen in South Africa might never be acknowledged because the details haven’t been scrutinised. And it’ll be your fault. I should have stayed and watched that girl myself.’

‘We didn’t think she’d climb out the window,’ Sister Nokwe said.

‘You of all people should be well aware of what slum children get up to. You’ve let us down.’

Sister Nokwe lowered her eyes.

Five gruelling years, lamented Sister Hilary, during which we’ve done our best to be of help to the community and please this old moaning minnie who takes pleasure in humiliating people. Immaculata may be in charge here but this is ridiculous. She burst out, ‘That’s not fair! Sweetness should be free to go.’

‘Free? Not at all. She’s the only eyewitness to a possible apparition of our Holy Mother. There’s never been one in Africa. If the facts are confirmed, it’ll be a glory of glories.’ Her face had gone bright red.

‘Is that what matters to you – glory?’ Sister Hilary blossomed into full rebellion. ‘What about the girl and her feelings? She was starting to doubt what she’d seen, said she wasn’t sure. You know how things fade.’

‘Things fade? We are talking about the Madonna, Hilary. She doesn’t fade. You and Nokwe must go and find that stupid girl and bring her back at once to face the—’

‘Consequences?’ The voice came from the doorway. The sisters turned to see Raylene standing there with her hands on her hips. ‘Sounds as though the shit’s really hit the fan.’

Sister Immaculata flared, ‘Go away! This is church business. Nothing to do with you.’

‘Oh, but it is. I’m the one Sweetness told first. I got the story fresh from the source.’

‘It’s not a story. And the source has disappeared. These two let her escape.’ Sister Immaculata pointed a quivering finger. ‘What are we going to say to the famous author and Mother Esmé when they come – that they’ve been on a wild goose chase? That the girl has gone?’

‘You won’t have to. I’ve brought her back. I had to haggle with the journalist who was interviewing her, but he saw reason in the end.’

Raylene stepped aside to reveal a beaming Sweetness with a flock of colourful butterflies from the Beijing Bazaar shivering their metal wings in her hair. The haggling had squeezed her rightful due out of the bastard too.

‘She’s already been interviewed by him?’ Sister Immaculata erupted. ‘That’s despicable. Father Liam told him she was out of bounds.’

‘He’s very persuasive.’

Sister Immaculata advanced on Sweetness. ‘How could you do this? How could you? We told you to wait.’

‘Eish, it was so long and so hot in here, Sister,’ the girl pleaded. ‘And Mr Rod was nice. He gave me two hundred and fifty bucks. Look.’ She reached under her school shirt and took a tight-rolled blue cylinder out of her bra. Rod the Sod always carried a stash of crisp new bank notes because of their magnetic effect on information. ‘Big money.’

‘Blood money,’ Sister Immaculata cried, lunging for it.

‘It’s for my mother! For the rent.’ Sweetness snatched her hand away and turned to run – straight into Father Liam, who was blocking the doorway.

He held her by the shoulders to ask, ‘What’s all this?’

‘Sister wants to steal my money,’ she wailed. ‘Father, help. It’s mine, not hers.’

Outraged, Sister Immaculata began to wail too. ‘Two hundred and fifty rands. It’s a bribe. The girl’s been corrupted. We’ll never know the true facts now.’

‘Calm down, the both of yer.’ As he raised his voice, Father Liam’s eyebrows questioned the others.

Sister Hilary explained, ‘We thought Sweetness had run away, but the journalist got to her. Now Raylene’s brought her back.’

‘The least I could do. That journalist is my fault.’ Raylene raised a defiant chin as she confessed. ‘I tipped him off early this morning to get my own back for having to go to bed hungry last night and the disgusting so-called breakfast this morning.’

Nonplussed, Father Liam said, ‘What do you mean? There’s plenty of food. The Church doesn’t stint our volunteers.’

‘Not intentionally maybe. But that woman,’ she jerked her head at Sister Immaculata, who stood sobbing, ‘wouldn’t let me have even a few crusts of bread when I came in too late for supper. Let alone a mouthful of your precious toad-in-the-hole. So it’s your fault too, for not insisting that meals are shared.’

The beads at the ends of her plaits clicked with the movement, reminding him of his rosary prayers. And of having forced down as much as he could manage of the loathsome meal while Sister Immaculata watched him, gimlet-eyed. The young teacher was right. He’d grown used to special treatment as the sole man in a flock of obliging women. The ironies of a life spent in the service of others were legion.

‘We’re none of us saints,’ he sighed.

‘Some like to think they are,’ she shot back.

‘I’m sorry you feel badly treated, Raylene. We’ll try harder, okay?’ He began to urge the howling Sweetness back into the room with his arm round her shoulders. ‘Come now, girl. Whoever’s fault it is, we have work to do. And I apologise to all of you for past transgressions.’

Sister Hilary flustered, ‘The very idea, Father.’

Sister Nokwe echoed, ‘Truly there’s no need.’

‘That girl’s taken blood money,’ Sister Immaculata was wailing.

Penny-pinching martyrs, Raylene thought. I’m glad I bought Sweetness those hairpin butterflies she wanted to make herself look pretty for the bigwigs from Joburg. They’ll give her confidence, but will she be believed? Probably not. Do I believe her? Can’t say. Maybe. What’s for sure is that I’ve got to get out of this place. Soon.

‘You’re all completely nuts!’ she shouted.