Taken at Riptide

1. Meredith : 1st Day

1

Meredith : 1st Day

If you would like to follow along with Meredith, there is a map of Southern Africa after Chapter 37 and before the first chapter of “Rogue Wave”. However, wait until Chapter 20 - Night 3 before doing so!)

Sukey and I stare out of the rear window as the red dust swirls behind the car hiding Kate from our view. I’m holding on tightly to Sukey to prevent her from falling as the car accelerates over the bumpy road surface. But it’s all too much for such a little girl. She bursts into tears and throws her arms around my neck, sobbing her heart out.

I try to comfort her, worried that the men in the front will notice her behavior, but she won’t let up. She gasps and shudders, rapidly approaching hysteria.

Number 1 slams on the brakes. The Mercedes skids on the loose surface, coming to a sharp stop on the verge, almost toppling into the ditch. Number 2 shouts at Number 1, who yells back and points at Sukey. I can’t understand what they’re saying. I think they’re speaking Afrikaans. But their annoyance is obvious. Number 2 gets out of the car and opens the back door.

“Move over,” he says.

Sukey shrinks back against me, fingers in mouth and chest heaving. I try to slide across the seat but with Sukey on my lap it’s not easy.

“Hurry up,” he shouts, leaning in to shove me.

As soon as I’ve made room, he gets into the car and closes the door behind him. He pulls Sukey out of my arms and dumps her on the seat between us. Sukey wriggles as close to me as she can. I put my arm around her and draw her against me. She stares at Number 2. She’s terrified, but that’s not enough for Number 2. He draws his finger across his throat and glares at her. “Shut up or I’ll vermoor you.”

He raps on the glass screen for Number 1 to take off. Number 1 unlocks the sliding panel and calls through, “Push that kid on the floor when we go through the towns.”

He takes off again. No sooner is the car up to speed than Sukey whispers to me, “Merry, I want to do wee-wee. Please, Merry.”

Number 2 is scowling out of the window.

“Mister,” I say, trying to catch his attention but he ignores me. “Mister,” I say again more loudly this time.

He still ignores me. Poor Sukey is desperate. She’s squirming about on the seat, trying to be a good girl and hold it in. I rap loudly on the partition and the driver glances in the rear view mirror. He shouts out at his colleague, “Mbuga, what’s going on back there?”

Number 2, or Mbuga as I now know he’s called, tears himself away from his daydream. “What now?” he asks me.

“My cousin needs to stop for a comfort break. She’s only three.”

He harrumphs but tells Number 1 to stop. It’s obvious that he’s the boss.

“Again?” replies the driver. “This is stupid. We’re never going to get anywhere. That kid is a damn nuisance.”

“I agree with you, Johnson. Perhaps we should get rid of her.”

Johnson grunts and does an emergency stop. We three in the back, Mbuga included, slam into the partition. Mbuga grabs hold of Sukey and yanks her out of the car. “Do your business.” He shouts pointing at the ground.

I’m out of the car right behind them. I try to push him out of the way so I can reach Sukey who is whimpering with fright. He swings his arm backwards and knocks me to the ground, but I can reach Sukey now if I crawl past his feet. He allows me to do so, shouting, “Get on with it. We’re in a hurry.”

I stand up and take Sukey’s hand and draw her behind the car for some privacy.

Johnson yells, “What are you doing Mbuga? She’ll run away and take our two thousand dollars with her.”

I risk an answer. “How can I run away with a three-year-old child in the middle of Africa? On a dirt road, moreover.”

Johnson tuts loudly and spits on the ground, but he lets me be.

Of course, Sukey is so frightened by now she can’t pee. What a situation to be in. This morning I was on board a luxury cruise liner, this afternoon I’m in the middle of Africa at the mercy of two thugs, and I’m whistling. Whistling to try to help Sukey pee.

The two men are arguing at the side of the road. They’re speaking Afrikaans again, but it’s obvious they’re discussing Sukey. It now seems that it’s Johnson who is all for getting rid of Sukey.

As soon as Sukey has finished, I tidy her up. I’m about to coax her back into the car with me when Johnson takes a g*n out of the glove compartment and brandishes it wildly about before pointing it at Sukey.

I risk another confrontation. “If you touch a hair on her head, I’ll make sure you do not get your money. I know the man who is paying you. I can make him listen to me. Tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it.”

There really is no alternative. We’re miles from anywhere with no phone, no money. I have to be acquiescent until I get a chance to escape with Sukey, or get a message out to let everyone know where we are. It’s too soon for Kate to have made it back to Cape Town.

Mbuga is not happy about the threat of the g*n. He argues with Johnson and persuades him to put it away. Johnson gets back into his seat and scowls at us in the mirror as I cajole Sukey to climb back into the car. Mbugu sandwiches Sukey between the two of us again. Johnson drives off.

We follow the dusty road for about ten minutes. It bends round a low hill and there before us is the tarred national route again. Before we reach the on-ramp, Mbugu tells me to sit Sukey on the floor. A steady stream of commuters wends northwards away from Cape Town.

“It’s the rush hour. People returning to Paarl and even as far as Worcester,” he says. “I don’t want to tell you what will happen to the little girl if someone sees her.”

I’m puzzled as to why they’re more worried about Sukey being seen than me. Nevertheless, I do what they say and persuade Sukey to sit on the floor of the car at my feet. I still have my ‘baby’ bag with me. The men haven’t bothered with it up till now. I suppose because it’s obvious what it is. It’s covered with pictures of rabbits and kittens, and a packet of disposable diapers sticks out of the top. However, when I draw Mbugu’s attention to it by picking it up and opening it, he snatches it away from me and rifles through the contents. Happy that it is innocuous, he flings it back at me. I take out a baby bottle filled with blackcurrant juice and give it to Sukey to suck. It will comfort her and she’ll be thirsty by now with all her crying and the dust from the road. I use the bag as a pillow for her down at my feet, and tuck Bunnylugs into her arms.

“Go to sleep, darling,” I tell her. “Merry’s here. I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise.”

She rewards me with a faint smile and puts the bottle in her mouth. She’s asleep almost as soon as we join the freeway.

It’s a relief to be on a smooth road and free of the dust. Johnson picks up speed. We’re soon cruising along at a hundred miles an hour, traveling further and further away from help. I’m sure I’ll be safe as long as nothing goes wrong. They aren’t going to risk their money by letting anything happen to me. But Sukey is another matter. She’s surplus to requirements. And something else bothers them. I can’t for the life of me work it out.

I lean my head against the window and look out at the countryside. Fortunately, I’m on the left-hand side of the car, closest to the verge in this right-hand drive country. We’re climbing and are soon in the foothills of a mountain range. Climbing again and then descending into a valley. We flash past a signpost for the town we’re approaching — Paarl. The town lies below, ringed by acres and acres of tidy vineyards. The freeway takes us across the edge of the town and onwards. No chance of attracting attention. With Sukey as a hostage for my good behavior I can’t risk it. We’re climbing again out of the valley and into another range of mountains.

The driver is pushing the car to its limit on the long winding road up the steep slopes. I have to hold on tightly to the hanging strap to stop myself from swaying across and touching Mbuga every time we swerve around a right hand bend. He makes no attempt to accord me the same courtesy. He gives me a lascivious grin as each left hand bend flings him across my way.

Horrible and dangerous as our predicament is, I would have to be blind not to appreciate the views. All around stretches a vast panorama of stark arid mountains with the lush verdure of the Paarl valley falling away behind us.

Halfway up the mountain side the car slows down. The driver turns off right and stops. Ahead of us is a signpost saying Huguenot Tunnel.

Mbuga jerks forwards with a start. He must have been dozing. A look of angry frustration crosses his face. He slides the partition open to shout at Johnson.

“Heck, man. We can’t use the tunnel. Remember we discussed this back in Cape Town.”

Johnson bangs his hand on the steering wheel. “Why the hell not? It’ll cut twenty to thirty minutes off our driving time. We need to make up the time we’ve lost. We have to get off the road before the police start looking for us.”

Sukey stirs and sits up. “Merry, where are we?”

She’s bewildered to find herself sleeping on the floor of the car at my feet.

“Shush, darling.” I ease her up off the floor and onto my knee.

Mbuga turns my way, but whatever he was going to say is cut off when Johnson puts the car into drive and moves forward towards the tunnel entrance.

Mbuga slams his hands on the partition and puts his face right up against the opening. “Turn this car round now, you i***t! They have cameras all the way along inside the tunnel. They’ll know we went this way for sure, and at what time. And they’ll get clear pictures of us. They can put them on the TV.”

Johnson turns round in his seat and glares back at Mbuga. “Do you really think they won’t guess we’re making for Johannesburg?”

Mbuga glances at me and back at Johnson. “Shut up, you i***t! They wouldn’t know for sure. And now you’ve told meisie here.”

Johnson makes a K-turn back onto the road. Mbuga grabs hold of Sukey to push her down onto the floor again.

I plead with him. “Please, mister. Please let her stay here. Surely there won’t be much traffic on this road. Doesn’t everyone use the tunnel?”

He stares at me for a minute before shrugging and looking away. I take that as permission and hug Sukey close. I bury my face in her blond curls. She smells of hot little girl. Perfume to a mother.

She struggles out of my hold. “Merry, where are we? Who are these nasty men?”

“Shush, darling,” I warn her. “We’re on a long car trip. To see interesting places. See!” I say, pointing out of the window at the view. “Look at those wonderful mountains.”

She wrinkles up her nose. “They’re boring. All brown and ugly.”

As the car climbs higher and higher and the view behind us becomes more and more spectacular, we play This Little Piggy and Round and round the garden like a Teddy Bear. We’re at the top of the mountains. We drive slowly past a look-out point. The notice says 1995m/6545ft. Now we’re tipping down the other side of the range. Far below lights are coming on in the next town at the foot of the mountains. Sukey falls asleep in my arms when we’re halfway down.

I have a Pollyanna moment. I would never have made a trip like this in my ordinary life. I would have flown if I had wanted to get from Cape Town to Johannesburg. I would never have seen the beauty of the mountains of the Western Cape. I keep hold of that feeling of wonder all the way down. It helps to keep the fear at bay. The signpost for the town appears—Worcester. We’re on the approaches to the town itself now, driving past rows and rows of vines as far as the eye can see. They run away into the far distance where their parallel lines join up at the vanishing point on the horizon.

It’s nearly seven o’clock and evening is drawing in. A wisp of mist rises up over the valley. Through the a/c comes the faint fragrance of grapes ripened by the sun all day and now cooling down. I wish I could open the window and breathe it in deeply.

The driver slows down and turns off the freeway towards the town. At last. Maybe we can have something to eat and drink and I can visit the bathroom. But I must be on my guard. It is when we are stationary that trouble could occur. As if reading my thought Mbuga gives Sukey a sudden rough shove. “On the floor, meisie.”

Sukey’s frightened as any child would be. I help her to get comfortable and warn her to keep her head down. She’s crying softly to herself and whispering her tale of woe to Bunnylugs as she winds one of his ears round and round her finger. I sandwich her between my legs and stroke her hair until she calms down.

We drive down the main street past quaint old-fashioned buildings. Most of them are single storied. Many of them have Dutch gables. Some are wood, some red brick. Everything is spotlessly clean and tidy. It’s a pretty town. I count four churches while we drive up and down and around. The driver is searching for an address and not finding it.

He’s becoming angry and frustrated. That bodes ill for Sukey and me.