Free Water Music by Margie Orford Page B

scabs at the back of her neck under her hair. Whatever has happened to her has been going on for a long time.
    And these? asked Clare, indicating two ridged scars across her back.
    Thats from a sjambok, Id guess. Ive seen thison farm kids a few times. Less so in town. In the meantime well keep her sedated. Its who she is and whats happened to her that I need to know. As soon as I have that, Ill know whats wrong with her and what she needs.
    So far weve had nothing, said Clare. Inas just done a press conference, though, so maybe thatll result in something. You said no sexual assault?
    No semen traces, no tears in thevagina or the anus, no burns on the nipples, so none of the usual stuff, if thats what you want. Anwars voice was pruned of all emotion. Those two scars across her back are from a beating thats long past. We X-rayed her, and it looks like the beating fractured some ribs, but there are a number of other fractures too.
    Beatings, you say?
    Maybe, he said. But it could be rickets vitamin D deficiencythats made the bones brittle. Shes like a little old lady her bones are like meringue.
    Thats the malnourishment you mentioned? asked Clare.
    Could be, said Anwar. But I think it might be more than that. Her case is so severe, must have been lack of sunlight.
    Clare looked at the childs wan face. How do you manage that in South Africa?

17
    Clare left the Childrens Hospital. It was only a handful of days shy of the winter solstice, and the darkness came swiftly. She thought of Rosa. Girls vanished without trace, that she knew, but unless the earth opened and swallowed them up there was always someone who knew where they were. And why.
    Thats what Clare wanted to know. Where. And why.
    The black dress she kept for sartorial emergencieswas in its dry-cleaning bag under the seat. It was dark in the parking lot, so she slid her seat back, stripped, and eased herself into the dress. She found the heels she had abandoned after the press conference and slipped them on.
    Clare flicked down the sun visor and the mirror light came on. Her angular face seemed that of a stranger; the two vertical lines between her brows lingered evenafter she had finished frowning. She dug a comb out of her handbag and ran it through her hair. She dug deeper, and was rewarded with foundation and a lipstick. The former erased the dark rings under her eyes; the latter restored colour to her lips and cheeks.
    That should do, she thought.
    She drove over Constantia Nek and down into Hout Bay, transformed into a place where all lights sparkledequally. The democracy of darkness. She turned in at the College of Classical Music. The gravel parking area was filled with cars, some with drivers hunkered down, engines idling to keep the heating on, but Clare managed to find a place that wasnt completely illegal.
    The noise of the Gala spilled out of the front door where a pretty usher stood at her post.
    Welcome, maam, she said. You havea ticket?
    Clare flashed her official ID and the girl took a step back to let her pass. Four girls wearing expensive shoes and not much else, despite the cold, trotted in after her, but the usher continued to stare after Clare as she strode towards the reception.
    A waiter at the door had a tray poised sparkling wine, Bloody Marys, whiskey. The warm notes of a cello wove through the cocktailparty chatter. Caviar and trays of carpaccio too raw, too red against the silver.
    The musicians were grouped on a raised dais. Irina Petrova had a conductors baton in her hand and her back to Clare. Katarina Kraft was there too, pale, her cello cradled between her knees. Lily smiled briefly as she tossed back her hair.
    Laughter erupted on the other side of the room. A tall man at the centreof a knot of people. Mid-forties. A hard good-looking face. A hard good-looking body too. Good suit, good shirt, bad shoes.
    Mr Savić, Irina Petrova called out to her guest of honour. A toast. Welcome. The programme begins in half an hour. For now,