Unravelled (11 page)

“Of course.” Dad gets slowly to his feet. “Be home by seven,” he reminds me before leaving the house, still looking dazed.

“Minus one problem,” says Ntatemogolo softly, with a sly smile. “Ah, my dear Conyza. It’s good to see you.” He rises and envelopes me in a rare, heartfelt hug.

I return the embrace with a puzzled frown. It hasn’t been that long since the last time I saw him. What on earth happened out there that put him in such a good mood? “I guess you found what you were looking for on your trip.”

“I found exactly what I was looking for,” he replies, still smiling. I wish he’d stop. It’s starting to make me nervous.

“Can you tell me what it is?” I know I shouldn’t ask, but his demeanour has changed so drastically I can’t help but wonder.

“Not yet,” he replies. “Let’s just say great things are happening in the world of the gifted. Come! You must practise. You still have much to learn.”

The session is gruelling. Ntatemogolo always pushes me, but today he pushes harder than ever, until I have to lie back on the mat in the consultation room, nursing a blinding headache.

He gives me a painkiller and beams at me. “You’re making good progress.”

I stare at him. “Thanks. Ntatemogolo, is everything OK? You seem…different.”

His smile falters. “Different? How?”

I shrug. “Just different.” My gaze drops from his face to the floor, to my outstretched legs, jeans riding up to reveal sock-covered feet and ankles. Oh…ankles. I bite my lip, remembering Ntatemogolo’s instruction to start wearing the anklet he gave me. “I forgot!” I blurt out. “I’m sorry! I’ll put it on as soon as I get home.”

When I meet his gaze, I’m struck by how intense it is. There’s a wealth of emotion behind those eyes, burning fiercely. He’s never looked at me like that before. I don’t know what to make of it. A funny feeling starts in the base of my spine.

“It’s fine, my girl,” he says. “Forget about the anklet. It’s not important anymore. How is your head?”

“Better.” I set the glass of water down on the floor. Something’s off. Ntatemogolo is acting strangely. First he was nice to Dad, then he practically drove me into the ground with this practice session, and now he’s staring at me as if I’ve sprouted an extra limb. The thing that really bothers me, though, is the fact that I’ve been here over an hour and he hasn’t yet lit a cigarette.

I get slowly to my feet. “What happened on your trip, Ntatemogolo?”

“Hmm?” He seems distracted now, looking around the room. Finally he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes.

I heave a sigh of relief. “I should go.”

“So soon?”

“You heard Dad – he wants me home by seven.”

He glances at his old watch. “There’s still time.”

I frown. Since when is he so eager to keep me at his side? Shouldn’t he want me to go so he can get on with his affairs?

“But you’re right,” he says, in a sudden turnaround. “You’re tired. You should go and rest. We’ll meet again soon enough.”

I mumble goodbye, perplexed, and leave him sitting there. The odd feeling follows me all the way home.

***

A few hours later I’m standing in front of Rakwena’s large black gate. As I ring the bell, I realise I should have called first. I know he doesn’t have class this afternoon, but that doesn’t mean he’s home. The gate slides open. Rre Sechaba, Rakwena’s caretaker, is standing in the driveway. He’s dressed in overalls and a hat, and I can tell by the mud on his shoes that he’s been working in the garden.

“Connie.” He smiles. “How are you, my dear?”

“I’m fine, Rre Sechaba. How are you?” I glance around; there’s no sign of Rakwena’s silver Isuzu.

“Good, good.” He comes closer and pats my shoulder with a gloved hand. “He went to pick up something from the shops. He’ll be back just now. Go inside and wait – should I get you some juice?”

I give him a grateful smile, relieved. “I’ll get it. I’ll get some for you, too.”

He nods appreciatively and waves me along. Rre Sechaba started off as the Langas’ gardener, but soon became part of the family. He was Rakwena’s official guardian until he turned eighteen last year, but Rakwena has been living on his own for about two years now. Sometimes Rre Sechaba stays over if his wife and kids are out of town, but Rakwena enjoys the solitude.

I step into the house, drop my bag on the sofa and head into the pristine kitchen. It smells like it’s just been cleaned and the surfaces are gleaming, as usual. I pour two glasses of cold breakfast punch, making sure not to spill on the spotless countertops, then push open the back door and carry one glass out to the garden.

Rre Sechaba is bent over some petunias and doesn’t see me. I’m just about to call to him when I feel a vague tug in my belly. He’s worried. He straightens up suddenly, startling me.

I take a step towards him. “Rre Sechaba, I’ve brought your juice.”

He beams and draws his sleeve across his forehead. “Thank you. Ah! He’s here.”

I hear the sound of the engine outside the gate, and hurry back through the house to let Rakwena in. He grins when he sees me.

“Hey,” he says, slipping an arm around my waist. “What a nice surprise. I thought you were going to see your grandfather today.”

“I did. And the strangest thing happened.” I fill him in on Ntatemogolo’s odd behaviour.

“Sounds like something’s definitely going on,” he remarks.

“I know!” I take his hand and lead him into the house. “I’ve never seen him in such a funny mood. Something big must have happened on his trip.”

Rakwena dumps his shopping on the kitchen counter and gives me a sharp look. “What makes you think it was the trip?”

“He was excited when he left,” I point out, “and now that he’s back he’s so weird.”

“Hmm.” Rakwena looks thoughtful, but doesn’t say anymore.

I sneak a peek out the window to make sure we’re not being observed, then put my hand on the back of his neck and stretch to kiss him. My lips tingle with his magic and I lean into him until the anxiety fades.

His eyes narrow. He leads me to the living room, where we curl up on the couch. “What’s wrong?”

I sigh into his shoulder. “I’m glad Dad and Ntatemogolo are going to be working together, but I just can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong. You should have been there. Ntatemogolo was like a different person!”

“Rakwena.” Rre Sechaba’s voice comes from behind us.

Rakwena gets up, looking only slightly embarrassed. “I’m here.”

“I’d like to speak to you.” There’s the slightest note of urgency in his voice.

When I first developed telepathy, I had to be facing a subject to be able to read them. Now I can do it from a distance, with my back to them. My body tenses on the sofa. Rre Sechaba and Rakwena speak in the kitchen in hushed tones. I can’t hear their voices, but I can still hear Rre Sechaba’s thoughts. Strangers have been hanging around the neighbourhood. He didn’t want to mention it at first because he thought he was being paranoid, but he saw one of them again today while Rakwena was out. He thinks these people might be watching the house. He wants Rakwena to be careful.

Reluctantly I draw my mind away and turn my attention to my immediate surroundings, feeling guilty for the intrusion. I don’t want Rakwena to figure out that I was eavesdropping.

When he returns there’s a frown on his face.

“What was that all about?” I ask, feigning innocence.

He pulls me against him. “Just household maintenance stuff. Nothing to worry about.”

Damn it. It annoys me when he downplays things. When it comes to his life it’s always “nothing to worry about”. I try to be understanding – he’s been alone for so long, with no one to share his secrets with. I know that it’ll take time for him to break the habit of keeping everything to himself. I just wish I knew how
much
time.

“Are you sure?”

He looks down at me and grins. “Of course.”

He’s not going to tell me. I don’t know whether to be angry or scared. I’m a little bit of both. I’m not going to get any answers out of him, and even though I couldn’t identify the mystery faces in Rre Sechaba’s thoughts, I have a feeling this trail will lead me straight to Duma and his beautiful band of brothers.

“We have a whole afternoon,” Rakwena announces. “What do you want to do? Watch a movie? I’ve got some new stuff.”

“A movie sounds good. Why don’t you go set up, and I’ll go to the kitchen and get some snacks?”

I get up and head towards the kitchen while he goes to his room. I prepare some drinks and snacks then peer around the door – Rakwena is busy with the multimedia player. I take the opportunity to slip out through the back door.

Rre Sechaba is planting seedlings in a bare patch at the far end of the back garden. He looks up, startled by my appearance, then covers his jumpiness with a smile. “Connie. Do you need something?”

“Rakwena and I are having some snacks – do you want anything?”

He shakes his head. “I ate not long ago; I’m fine.”

I linger on the brick pavement. Now, Connie! “Rre Sechaba, is everything OK?”

He stops working but doesn’t turn around. It’s interesting how many people do that when they’re trying to hide something. They’re so afraid their faces will give them away that they don’t pay attention to the signals their bodies are sending. Tense, hunched shoulders, slow, cautious movements. I can see right through him.

“Everything is fine.” He turns to face me, his smile carefully in place.

I experience a fleeting pang of sadness. The Langa family has taught him well. I should have expected it – you don’t spend years with people as secretive as Rakwena and his mother without picking up a few tricks. Even though I know it’s futile, I can’t resist making one last attempt.

“When you came to talk to Rakwena, you sounded upset. He’s not in trouble, is he?”

He pulls an old handkerchief out of his pocket and uses it to wipe the sweat from his face. “You’re a good girl,” he says softly. “He needs people who care. But don’t worry.” He smiles again. “That boy can look after himself, eh?”

“Yes.” I return to the kitchen to put the snacks on a tray.

“Connie, I’m about to start the movie!” Rakwena calls from the other room.

“Coming!”

Don’t worry. Why do people say that? They must know that the more they tell you not to worry, the more worried you become. I set the tray on the table just as the movie begins. It’s a thriller I’ve been meaning to watch, but it’s difficult to focus. I’m almost sorry I eavesdropped, because now my head is swirling with eerie images that don’t make sense.

***

After the movie Rakwena drops me off at home. Dad is out, so I call Lebz to ask if I can sleep over, then pack an overnight bag, leave a note, and walk to Lebz’s house. She fills me in on all the latest gossip, and I try hard to take an interest.

“How’s Kelly?” I cut in, interrupting her assessment of the alleged relationship between two of our teachers.

Lebz gives me a crafty look. “Maybe I should arrange a session for you two, so you can bond properly.”

“Shut up,” I grumble. “I’m just worried about her boyfriend.”

“I told you, she’s fine.” Lebz rolls onto her back on her bed. “She and Spencer are still together, and she still thinks he walks on water.”

“Has she lost more weight?”

Lebz frowns. “I haven’t seen her since last week, so I don’t know. She spends almost
all
her time with that boy,
yoh
! She can’t even think straight anymore.”

“I didn’t know she ever could,” I quip, and a few seconds later a pillow hits me on the side of the head, almost knocking me off the edge of Rita’s bed. “Hey!”

“I’m serious!” Lebz protests with a pout. “You know she forgot that Botho’s birthday is next week? I sent her a message on Facebook to find out if she was planning anything, and she was like, ‘Isn’t Botho’s birthday in December?’. Imagine! She’s been friends with this girl since primary school, and all of a sudden she forgets her birthday.”

A shiver runs through me. “That’s weird.”

“Very weird! Kelly
never
forgets birthdays. She’s always the one planning the parties! She’s so wrapped up in Spencer that she doesn’t seem to care about anything else!”

I don’t respond. Lebz barely notices; she’s prattling on about something else, leaving me to ponder this revelation. Kelly starts dating Spencer. Spencer comes from a pack of gifted heartthrobs. Kelly becomes unusually attached to Spencer. She starts passing out in storerooms, losing weight and forgetting things. Meanwhile, Spencer and company reveal a suspicious interest in Rakwena and may or may not be stalking him.

Perhaps these things are completely unconnected. Maybe Kelly really is in love. Maybe the Cresta Crew just happen to live near Rakwena and are just fascinated by his intimidating demeanour. Maybe they’re not the people Rre Sechaba has seen hanging around outside the house.

“Connie!
Hayi wena
– you’re not even listening!”

“I’m listening,” I lie, turning to face her. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

She shrugs. “I was thinking of going to the shops.”

Of course she was. Why did I bother asking? “Can we go over to Wiki’s?”

Lebz stares at me, blinking in puzzlement. I understand her confusion. We never hang out at Wiki’s house. His parents are strict, his sister doesn’t read magazines or paint her nails, and there’s nothing to watch but anime, science fiction and documentaries.

“He has the File and I need to do some research,” I explain, and her eyes widen in understanding.

“What are you looking for?”

“I’m not sure. I guess I’ll know when I find it.” I call Wiki’s cell phone and as soon as he picks up I put him on loudspeaker.

“Hello, Connie. What’s wrong? You don’t usually call me in the evening.”

I tell him about the File, and he heaves a long sigh.

“I won’t be here tomorrow – we’re driving up to Kanye for a funeral,” he tells me. “We’ll probably be gone all day.”

I let out a disappointed groan. “Whose funeral?”

“A friend of my mother’s – no one you know.”

“OK.” I chew my lip thoughtfully. “Well, we can meet up the next day, then. I’ll go online and see what I can dig up.”