Part Two
FELL SWOOP
“What all my pretty chickens and their dam
At one fell swoop?”
MACBETH, ACT 4, SCENE 3
SIX
SHE HOPPED AND SKIPPED over the sand alongside the road. It had been such a happy afternoon, and she had the whole weekend ahead of her. For the first time since her mother had died ten months ago, she hadn’t felt pangs of grief. Playtime had been nothing but fun—she and her friends kicking a soccer ball all over the grassless playing field, shouting incessantly for a pass and screaming with excitement when someone neared the goal.
She knew her father would be angry that her school uniform was covered in sand and her shoes scuffed, but she couldn’t wait to tell him that she’d scored a goal—her first—a shot from twenty yards that sped past the fingertips of the goalkeeper. Her father had played soccer when he was young, so he’d understand her excitement and be proud of her. She looked forward to that.
She heard a crunching behind her. She turned and saw a white Toyota pulling off the road onto the sand. It slowed down and stopped next to her. As the window opened slowly, she saw a man leaning over, struggling with the handle.
“Hello, Tombi.”
It took a few moments for her eyes to recognize him in the dark interior.
“Oh! Dumela, rra. I didn’t think it was you.”
“My car’s at the garage, Tombi. They loaned me this one while mine’s being fixed.”
It must be nice to have a car, she thought.
“Can I give you a lift home? You live near here, don’t you?”
“Yes, rra. Not far from those shops down there.”
“Jump in. I’ll buy you a milk shake on the way.”
A grin split Tombi’s dusty face as she clambered into the car. “Oh, thank you, rra. I haven’t had one for a long time.”
He smiled back, put the car into gear, and moved off. There was a click as he engaged the door locks. Tombi took no notice. A milk shake would be the perfect way to end the afternoon.
WITNESS STIRRED THE POT of pap. It would be done soon. The tomato and onion sauce was ready, simmering on the back burner.
Where was Tombi? he wondered. She should’ve been home more than half an hour ago. Maybe she was still playing soccer with her friends. He shook his head. Girls playing soccer! When he was in school, boys played soccer. Girls played . . . He stopped stirring. What had girls done after school? He couldn’t remember. He wasn’t interested in girls then. It was only when he met Tombi’s mother when he was nineteen that he started paying attention. That was fifteen years ago. Now she was gone.
He started stirring again. Still, he was lucky. Tombi was a good girl. Naughty from time to time—she was a teenager, after all—but never anything serious. More important, she studied hard at school, had three or four close friends, and wasn’t distracted by boys. So far.
He dreaded that moment. He wasn’t sure how he’d cope. His friends with daughters didn’t know what to do. None of them seemed to understand their kids. But he knew what he would do—he’d forbid her from having sex even though it seemed that all schoolchildren were doing it. For them, it was as natural as shaking hands. But he knew what AIDS could do to a family. He would have to talk to her soon—remind her of what had happened to her mother.
TOMBI WAS NOW MORE than an hour late, and Witness was worried. He drove to her school in his dilapidated Volkswagen and saw a few boys kicking a ball around.
“My daughter’s name is Tombi. Tombi Maleng. Do you know her?”
The one boy looked at the others. They shook their heads.
“We don’t know any of their names.”
“There were some girls playing soccer, but they all left a long time ago,” another interjected.
“How long ago?”
“I don’t know. A long time! An hour? Maybe two?”
“No,” another said. “It was only half an hour.”
“You’re sure you don’t know her?”
They all shook their heads.
Witness thanked them and walked over to the school buildings, hoping to find someone working late. His stomach began to ache. Other girls had disappeared . . .
He was in luck. A teacher was still there, grading tests. She knew Tombi but hadn’t seen her that afternoon.
“She probably went home with a friend and has lost track of the time.”
“She’s never this late. Her best friends are Chastity, Zuni, and Asakona, but I’ve no idea where they live. I don’t even know their last names. Do you know any of them?”
“Yes, I teach them all. It’s Chastity Maboda, Zuni Tsimako, and Asakona Ramotwa.”
Witness borrowed pencil and paper and wrote the names down. “Do you know where they live?”
The teacher shook her head. “You can find out at the office. But it’ll only be open on Monday.”
“I can’t wait until then. Perhaps you have their phone numbers?” The teacher took a notebook from her desk and flipped the pages.
“I’ve only got the Mabodas’ number.” She read it out. “I’m sure Tombi’s fine. Don’t worry. She’s probably back home by now. Check there before you get everyone upset.”
Hoping she was right, Witness thanked her, walked back to his car, and drove home.
“HELLO. IS THAT MMA Maboda? This is Witness Maleng—Tombi’s father. Is Tombi there by any chance?”
Mma Maboda said she wasn’t.
“Please could you ask Chastity if she saw Tombi this afternoon?”
He took his cell phone out to the veranda and looked up and down the road. Nobody.
“Rra Maleng? Chastity said they all played soccer this afternoon. Tombi scored a goal apparently.”
“When did Chastity get home?”
“It must’ve been around five-thirty, I think.”
“That’s an hour and a half ago! Can you ask Chastity if she knows where Tombi was going after soccer?”
There were muffled voices on the line.
“Chastity says she was going home.”
“Mma Maboda, I’m very worried. Please call me if Tombi comes to your house. Now can I speak to Chastity? I need to get hold of Asakona and Zuni.”
After speaking to Chastity, Witness hung up. The pain in his stomach was worse.
The calls to the homes of Asakona and Zuni were similar. Both children had returned home about the same time as Chastity. Both said Tombi was going straight home.
Witness grabbed a photo of Tombi and drove to the little cluster of shops at the end of his road. He went into the mini-mart and showed the photo to the woman behind the counter.
“Have you seen her?”
The woman shook her head. “I know Tombi. But she didn’t come in today.”
At the gas station next door, the attendant looked at the photo and shook his head. Finally Witness spoke to a number of minibus taxi drivers who used a vacant area near the school entrance as a parking lot, but none had noticed Tombi.
IT WAS AFTER NINE when Witness walked into the Broadhurst police station. He explained the situation to the constable on duty.
“Don’t worry, rra. Kids do this all the time. She’s off with a friend. Probably spending the night. It hasn’t occurred to her that you’d be worried.”
“She always lets me know.”
“Fill out this missing-person’s form.” The constable handed Witness three forms and two sheets of carbon paper. “Press hard.” He smiled. “Maybe she’s with her boyfriend.”
“She’s not like that.” Witness was having difficulty containing his anger. “She’s a good girl. She doesn’t have a boyfriend. Something’s happened to her. Here’s a photo. Please make copies and have your people go out and look for her.”
The constable took the photo. “Nice-looking girl,” he said. “I’ll make copies. But you’ll see. She’ll be back in the morning.”
Witness banged the counter with his fist. “Something’s happened to her. I’m telling you.” Then he lowered his voice. “Please get your people out and look,” he pleaded.
“Sorry, rra,” the constable replied. “I know you’re worried, but it’s too soon to do anything tonight. Besides I don’t have the staff. Wait until tomorrow. Kids always show up.”
WITNESS HURRIED HOME HOPING desperately that Tombi would be there. But she wasn’t. He didn’t know what to do. He drove back to the school and slowly followed the road Tombi would have used to walk home. There was no sign of her. No sign of anything. Even though it was late, he banged on the doors of several houses. Nobody had seen her.
“Don’t worry. She’ll be back,” they all said. “Our kids often stay out with friends.”
“She’s not like that,” he snapped. “She’s a good girl.”
When Witness eventually returned home, any remaining hope was dashed. Tombi was still not back. He took a beer from the fridge and sat down at the kitchen table. What could he do? He popped open the can and drained it without taking it from his lips. He liked the cold fizzing as the liquid slipped down his throat almost as much as he liked the taste. He grabbed another.
It was too late to go and search the neighborhood. But he couldn’t just sit and do nothing. What could he do?
He drained the second can.
I’ll organize a search party in the morning, he decided. Get all my friends to help. He decided he’d better call them right away even though it was late; otherwise he might miss them in the morning.
He started with the parents of Tombi’s friends.
“I’m sorry to call so late. But Tombi still isn’t back. I need help looking in the fields along the road. Anywhere she may have walked. Can you meet me at the school at eight tomorrow morning? Please come and help. And bring as many other people as you can. And long sticks to poke under bushes. Please help me.”
Then he called all his friends and acquaintances and even some of his colleagues at work. Most said they would come.
When he finished calling, he collapsed on the sofa with another beer. How was he going to get through the night? He’d never sleep.
He put his head in his hands. His body shook, and tears dripped from his eyes. He was desperately afraid.