CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

If Henk knew how badly Hattie drove over those steep passes he might not have been so quick to tell me to go home. It might’ve been safer to stay and look for a murderer and then ride back on Jessie’s scooter without a helmet.

Hattie dropped me in my driveway. ‘Toodle-oo,’ she called, as she skidded off, taking some bark from the eucalyptus tree with her.

I walked between the peach pips, up my pathway of flat stones.

‘Kik kik kik,’ I called, as I reached the garden.

All five of my brown hens came rushing towards me, their reddish neck feathers fluffing as they ran. I was glad that the rooikat or the leopard had not taken any of them. There was a bucket of crushed mielies on the stoep, and I threw them a handful of corn before I let myself in. I had not returned from Oudtshoorn empty-handed. Tannie Rosa had given me her mosbolletjie rusk recipe and a Tupperware of raisins. I’d hoped for some muscadel must wine from her brother, but she wasn’t able to get any in time so had given me some muscadel raisins still on the stalk. I’d ferment these in water to make the sourdough.

I phoned Rita, my neighbour, to thank her for looking after my chickens, and she thanked me for the eggs. It was almost time for lunch. I looked at the diet sheet. The recipe (if you can call it that) was for a very boring salad. I threw the sheet of paper in the bin. Then I took it out again. I would eat that blooming diet food, but I’d improve it with a little something extra. I prepared the cucumber, tomato and lettuce salad, then added some grated mature Gouda and a dressing with macadamia nut oil and naartjie juice. I ate it on the stoep; it was very good.

As I looked across the veld, I saw a kudu come out from behind the gwarrie tree. A beautiful big male with a black face and long spiral horns. You do sometimes get trek kudu in our area – buck that like to travel far across the veld and won’t be stopped by the fences – but I hadn’t seen one for years. Steenbuck and springbuck, ja, even the occasional grysbok, but not a kudu. Such a big one too. I looked away for a moment, and when I looked back it was gone. I waited for it to appear again from behind the gwarrie tree, but it didn’t.

I spent the afternoon doing my laundry and hanging it on the line. Everything dries so quickly in the Karoo. I made an early supper. Again I ate the diet meal, but with something extra. The recipe said steamed vegetables, which I did: beetroot and butternut. Then I fried them lightly in olive oil and added macadamia nut butter and dates and chopped naartjies and feta. I ate on the stoep in the evening light. Delicious. No, really it was. You wouldn’t believe it was diet food. I watched out again for that kudu, but there was no sign of it.

The problem with good-tasting food is it leaves you wanting more, so I took a couple of diet pills and my antidepressant for pudding.

That night I was woken from a deep sleep by the noise of hooves, and there it was, that big kudu. Standing right next to my bed. I could see its black eyes glistening in the moonlight. Big pupils, like Slimkat’s. I closed my eyes and opened them again, and it was still there. It was a gentle creature, and I did not feel frightened.

‘Slimkat?’ I said.

The kudu was not looking at me but at the window, as if it was thinking of going out. The sash window was only a little bit open at the top. Even if it was wide open, it would be too small for the kudu to fit through. A steenbokkie, ja, but not a kudu, not even a small kudu.

I sat up, wanting to explain this to the kudu, and my blanket knocked over the glass of water on my bedside table. I leant down to see if it had broken, but it hadn’t. When I looked up, the kudu was gone. I guess I was wrong about the window. I lay down and quickly fell asleep.

The next morning, I thought it must have been a dream, but there was my glass on the floor. I looked for spoor of the kudu, but of course a buck would leave no tracks on the wood. It had felt so real. But then my nightmares felt real too.

I took my pills again before breakfast and ate boiled eggs on the stoep while my hens scratched on the compost heap and the sun lit up the veld and the distant Langeberge. A Karoo robin was making a lot of noise that morning, flying between a thorn tree and the gwarrie tree, swooping towards the ground.

‘I wonder if there’s a snake about,’ I said to my boiled egg.

I did the washing up, then called Jessie on her cell.

‘Tannie M,’ she said. ‘I’m at the hospital, hoping to meet Ystervark. He’s coming to take Slimkat’s body back to Kuruman.’

‘Ag, shame . . .’ I said. ‘Have you spoken to the people who work at the Kudu Stall?’

‘Some, ja,’ she said.

‘And?’

‘Not much, but I’ll tell you when I see you. I must run; there he is.’

‘Sorry I’m not there—’ I said, but the phone had already disconnected.

I wished I was there, at her side.

I put my lipstick on and was just setting out for work when the phone rang. It was Henk. He was the reason I wasn’t with Jessie.

‘Just checking you’re okay,’ he said.

‘Fine,’ I said, feeling a bit cross with him.

‘I’m coming back this evening,’ he said. ‘Be nice to see you.’

It was hard to stay cross with him.

‘For supper?’ I said.

‘That would be lekker.’

I wondered what I should cook.

‘It’s important you interview the people at the Kudu Stall,’ I said.

‘Ja.’

‘Have you spoken to them all?’

‘I can’t discuss it.’

‘Have you got results from the sauce?’ I said. ‘Was it poisoned?’

‘You agreed to stay out of it,’ he said.

‘I agreed not to stay there and investigate,’ I said. ‘But I still want to know. I was there when it happened. He looked me in the eyes.’

‘When there’s official news, I will tell you.’

‘I must go now,’ I said.

‘Maria . . .’

‘What?’

I could hear his breathing, and for a moment I was scared he was going to say he loved me again.

‘Thank you,’ he said.

‘Your lamb,’ I said. ‘Who’s looking after Kosie while you’re away?’

‘One of the guys from the station is staying at my house.’

‘Maybe ask him to stay one more night.’