Free Fly Away Home by Vanessa Del Fabbro Page B

the burned out hotel.
    The smell of cooking meat hung in the air as Hercules and Francina stood outside the door. They decided that this was probably the entrance to a common area in the building, and Hercules tried the door handle. It was locked. He knocked. When there was no reply, he knocked again, more loudly. A key turned in the lock and the nose of a rifle appeared through a crack in the door.
    â€œIf you’ve come back for more, then that’s what you’ll get,” screamed a voice. A string of profanities followed.
    The door opened wider, and Hercules and Francina found themselves staring into the wild eyes of the old lady.
    â€œWhat do you want?” she asked.
    Francina thought it better if she, and not Hercules, explained the reason for their visit.
    â€œI remember that one,” said the lady, looking at the photograph. “But she’s not here anymore. I run a clean house and she wouldn’t play by the rules.”
    â€œThe rules?” said Francina.
    â€œNo drugs, no alcohol. I’ll take you in if you’re poor, but I won’t tolerate any nonsense.”
    The hotel had been abandoned by its owner after the fire, and the old woman had moved in as its unofficial new manager. She cooked and cleaned, and residents paid her whatever they could afford. Zukisa’s cousin had been able to pay her way, but her money, said the lady, was dirty. The words she used to describe what Lucy did for a living made Hercules blush.
    â€œDo you know where she is now?” asked Francina.
    The woman shook her head. “She was involved with a bad character. Her room was always full of stuff—stolen stuff. She told me he had a business in Orange Grove. Business, my eye!”
    Francina looked at Hercules. The name of the area meant nothing to him, since he had lived most of his life in Dundee, KwaZulu-Natal, but she knew that it was a neighborhood in Johannesburg. Her heart sank as she thought of leaving Zukisa in that flat.
    â€œIs there anyone here who might have her address?” asked Hercules.
    â€œNo, my tenants move all the time. Sometimes they go back to their families. Sometimes they find a job in another town.”
    Francina and Hercules thanked the old lady and returned to their car. As they drove down the street, they saw the same group of young men sitting in the park, passing a carton of liquor around, cigarettes dangling from their lips, the fight—and perhaps the old lady—forgotten.
    â€œCan we go to Johannesburg tomorrow?” asked Francina.
    â€œI’ll have to speak to Mr. D., the principal, tomorrow morning before he leaves for church. If he can’t substitute for me on Monday, then I’ll have to wait until a replacement can be found. Who will look after Mandla?”
    â€œHe can go to Monica’s office after school. She’ll understand how important the search for Lucy is.”
    They didn’t speak much on the journey back to Lady Helen. Francina knew firsthand how big Orange Grove was. Looking for Lucy was going to be like looking for a single locust in a whole hillside of mielie plants.
    Hercules’s mother was sweeping the shop when they arrived home. “How long is Zukisa going to be away?” she asked.
    â€œI don’t know, Mama,” said Hercules. “Her aunt is gravely ill.”
    â€œBut what about the grandsons? Why can’t they manage? You would have been able to at their age.”
    Hercules smiled weakly. “Yes, but not all boys were raised by a mother like you.”
    Mrs. Shabalala was not to be appeased. “Why should we have to give up our child?”
    Francina gently touched her mother-in-law’s arm. “Zukisa came as a gift to us from her aunt. We have to remember that.”
    Mrs. Shabalala nodded, as though in agreement, but Francina had never seen such agitation on her face before. She explained the plan for finding Lucy and helping her, so that she could take care