Last Train to Retreat by Gustav Preller Read Free Book Online Page B

mangoes. Lena and Sarai ended up having their first argument, with Sarai refusing to eat, and staying in her own bed the entire night.
    In the morning Sarai said she needed more ‘house money’. Not once had she brought back any change and Lena had felt too guilty to ask for it. Lena went to work wishing she could stay at home with Sarai. At The Centre, Adi commented on a report in the paper to the effect that the police were leaving no stone unturned in their investigation of the stadium murder. ‘It’s the bad publicity … that’s why the
gattas
are running around,’ she said dismissively. ‘If there was no World Cup little would happen. They say the guy was a pimp from the city.’ Opinions flew thick and fast. Ronnie said, ‘I just
knew
something would go wrong because I tell you, this country is
befok.
’ Catherine said, ‘Sweet Jesus, all this noise about
one
murder! People are killed on the Flats all the time and no one hears about them except the gangs and the parents!’
    Nobody felt anything for the pimp. Lena, afraid that her face and voice would let her down, said nothing. It was unlikely that anyone had witnessed the killing of Cupido but Lena imagined a day when police would arrive at The Centre and ask for her, or knock on the door of her house – it was a case of when, not whether, her wretched deed would catch up with her.

Seven
    T he day after the kitchen episode Lena arrived home to find Sarai furiously digging up the garden, insisting that it looked terrible. Next to her lay uprooted plants that weren’t from Lena’s patch, a few already stuffed at crazy angles into holes Sarai had made. Then the girl refused to have dinner saying that the plants
had
to be in and watered before the sun came up.
    It became a daily occurrence – Sarai turning away food, not sleeping in Lena’s bed, turning conversations into arguments, acting weirdly. And all the while blue sacks were forming under her eyes.
    One day when Lena got home she couldn’t find Sarai. She ran through the house in less than a minute calling her name. The girl’s clothes in the wardrobe briefly comforted her. She stepped outside, her eyes sweeping the fences, houses, and streets. Except for Sarai’s clothes it was as if the girl had never been there. Lena sat on her grey-brown couch not knowing what to do. Then she heard it – a sound from the ceiling. She looked up and saw only a white nothingness. An icy sensation crept over her. She jumped up as if stung by a bee, ran into Sarai’s room and started searching. Deep under the girl’s mattress she found a
lolly
, a glass pipe with a bulbous end. Deeper still were cigarette lighters, and white crystals in a bag. Lena was staring at a crystal meth kit. Drug counsellors kept samples of Mandrax, cocaine, dagga, and crystal meth at The Centre and Lena had often studied these with morbid curiosity.
    She hurried to the kitchen and saw the squat little table on the counter. How could she have missed it! In the ceiling above it was a hole with a covering that her father had made in order to access the roof for repairs without a ladder.
    •
     
    Lena’s torch caught the girl huddling on a beam in the roof, her mouth twitching and skewed, her eyes darting around for a bolt hole. Lena helped her down, led her to her bedroom, and pointed at the meth kit. ‘I know what this is, Sarai, I want to know why,’ she said, controlling her voice.
    ‘It is my business.’
    ‘It’s my money and it’s my house.’
    ‘You don’ love me, Lena, that’s why … I do it one time only, Lena.’
    ‘That’s a lie, and you know it! You’re going to kill yourself. How the hell can I help if you do this, hey? We’re in enough trouble. You … we don’t need this, understand!’ No black-brown residue left in the pipe, Lena noticed, no broken glass lying about or in the rubbish bin, multiple lighters – signs that the girl wasn’t a rookie. Beginners often held the flame too close to the bulbous