Water Music (19 page)

The informations all there, he said with a flick of his fingers.

Clare picked up the serving bowl. Beneath it a stack of papers. The yellow paper used by state hospitals. A note attached, Mr Wagners name on it. Clare, the daughter of a doctor, deciphered
the scrawl:
Sorry about the news. Let me know how I can help, if you have private coverage there might be options
.

What has my illness got to do with Rosa, Dr Hart?

She knew about it, said Clare. She asked her doctor about it.

He looked stricken.

Did you discuss it with her?

No, no. I came to get water, he said. She didnt hear me, she was listening to her iPod. She was at the table. She was
reading this. I didnt know what to say.

He took the medical records from her.

What is there to say about an old man being told hes going to die? He tried to smile.

And the next day she went back to Cape Town?

He nodded.

I thought it best that she go, that she live her life, he said. Im an old man. Im dying. They said so. The treatment well, I had a little money to spare. That bought me a
few months of the drug. A few more months with her.

And after that?

I did not want to burden Rosa, he said. She is all I have. I didnt want to weigh her down with my old mans troubles. Not now, when she was finding her path.

And you are all she has, said Clare. Shed do anything to save you, I suppose?

Wagner poured the coffee, a tremor in his hand as he passed her a cup.

There was a storm.
My son drowned, Rosa was only four. She was eight when her mother overdosed. I went to fetch her from the filthy place she was in. There had been some sordid incidents, the kind that sometimes happen with stepfathers. The unforgotten fury flashed in his eyes. Rosa seemed broken, but she sealed it inside herself. What could I say to her, an old man to a little girl? That is when I taught her the
cello. I taught her how to make music out of what she heard from the sea, the lagoon. I taught her that her music could be a sanctuary. He paused, took a sip of his coffee.

She ran away when I sent her to school, she simply vanished

So this isnt the first time shes disappeared?

Some boys at the school held her down, looked up her skirt. She freed herself, she ran. She told me it was like the
man. Thats her mothers boyfriend, he said, tired eyes glinting again. She slept in the veld. Someone found her and brought her back. I said she could stay at my home, be at peace here, and that I would teach her. Things Id learned at university Latin, Greek, and music. Useless things that muffle the world. That kept her safe. Until Irina Petrova heard Rosa play in the church for a wedding. She
insisted. She gave Rosa a place, enough money to live on. Said she had to come.

From the lagoon, a gurgle, the tide coming in.

You didnt want her to go?

I had to let her go, of course. But I realise now that I had equipped her for nothing.

Where might Rosa seek sanctuary if she was in trouble again?

Why would she be in trouble? Mr Wagner stiffened.

Clare did not say that trouble might be
their best hope for finding Rosa alive.

Did she have any friends? asked Clare. Someone she might go to? A place somewhere?

Mr Wagner shook his head.

Could you tell me what happened that weekend?

Rosa was here for two nights, he said. She seemed restless, though she said nothing. She played her cello most of the time.

Did she see anyone?

Nobody, he said. It was just the two of us.

And then?

Then she left. I asked if she didnt want to take her dog with her. He attempted a smile. She said no. I took her to the bus. It was the last time I saw her. She phoned to let me know she had arrived safely.

How did she sound then?

Not quite herself, even though she said she was fine.

Drugs maybe?

I thought of that, of course, he said. Given her history. But there were no signs. I did have
this feeling.

Clare waited for him to gather his thoughts.

But I didnt ask her and she didnt tell me. That was not our way.

Rosa didnt see anyone while she was staying here, youve said. But did she perhaps speak to anyone on the phone?

He closed his eyes. The light from the window shone through the old mans hair, gleaming on his skull. Its the pills. I forget things. The phone. Of course.
I heard her whispering, it was something about music.

The dog came inside, wet paw prints patterning the polished floor.

Shed just come in, brought sand inside. It was on her feet, like when she was a child. She stopped talking when she saw me, but when I went out again she said it again, I heard the word music, I heard it clearly. Her voice, he said. She was pleading.

Who was she talking to?
asked Clare.

I dont know, he said. But the number will be on the bill. It just came. Let me fetch it.

Can I have a look at her room too? asked Clare.

Come this way, he said. Its off the stoep.

The door was painted a cerulean blue. Inside, a narrow metal bedstead, a white bedspread with a grimy rag doll propped against the pillow. A paraffin lamp and a box of matches on the bedside table. A
small table and a bookshelf. Old Penguin classics; another pile of childrens books Beatrix Potter,
The Hobbit
, the Narnia books.

You can see her books, he said, picking up
The Wind in the Willows
. The characters in them were her friends, this faraway England that she could close her eyes and imagine. You can take a look, my dear, he said replacing the volume. Ill go and find that bill.

Clare
looked through drawers, under the mattress, flicked through the books.

Nothing.

She opened the faded blue curtains. The lagoon, the colour of pewter, lay before the house like a bolt of unfurled silk. An interregnum of silence before the tide turned, the water flowing back towards the Atlantic. For a moment it felt as if time had stood still. Flamingos called to each other, a melancholic pleading
that carried across the expanse of water. Clare closed the door on Rosas bedroom.

The petrol gauge flashed red when Clare was half-way back to Cape Town. She pulled over at the 1-Stop. The high that comes with caffeine on an empty stomach had long since passed, and so had the early-morning nausea. It was close to lunch time, but she ordered the breakfast: bacon, eggs, tomatoes, toast, coffee.

She phoned the number that Alfred Wagner had given her. It rang until a recorded voice said: Katarina is probably rehearsing so please to leave a message.

Clare stared out at plastic bags caught on a fence: they writhed in the wind. She wondered why Katarina Kraft had lied to her.

The music college was filled with Sunday-afternoon ennui; apart from sounds of a single cello, the building was silent. Clare went up the stairs to the rehearsal room at the end of the corridor.

May I come in, Katarina? Clare was already closing the door behind her. Katarina Kraft was seated at the window.

Hello. Sorry, I have to practise, she said. But she let her bow drop.

You dont feel
comfortable if youre not busy? said Clare. You thinking about Rosa?

Ive told you all I know.

Why did you lie about Rosa? There was a metronome on the piano. Clare touched it, setting off a rhythmic tap-tap-tap. She phoned you from her grandfathers house two days before she disappeared.

Really? Katarina closed the score in front of her. I mustve missed that. My phone, its weird sometimes.

And you phoned her back.

Katarina avoided Clares eyes.

She said something to you about music, Ive been told. Clare leaned forward, her gaze unwavering. Look, Im curious about some of the people Rosa knew. Places where she may have been paid to play.

Katarina shifted a little; this time she didnt look away.

Did Rosa ever talk about money?

All of us talk about money, said Katarina. None of us
have any, thats why.

Did she suddenly need money?

Dr Hart, Katarina was pleading, we played together. We practised. Shes not my best friend.

Clare put her hand over the metronome. The silence was a relief.

Its not my fault.

People keep on telling me that, said Clare. She paused and softly asked, What happened, Katarina?

I dont know. You keep on asking me questions as if Im hiding something.

Why did you lie to me? asked Clare.

Look, Dr Hart, said Katarina. People make this mistake about Rosa. They think because shes so quiet she doesnt know anything, but its not true. Rosa is quiet because shes listening. Shes figuring out what other people dont see. She knows people, she knows how to make a plan out of nothing. She knows how to fix things. Wherever shes gone, shell make a plan.

Katarina plucked at the sleeves of her cardigan. A mans cardigan, leather patches at the elbow.

Youd better tell me what you know, Katarina. I will find out eventually. So, either you help me or you dont. If you know something and youve said nothing, it will be your fault, said Clare. Either you live with guilt or with fear. Its up to you to decide. I can tell you one thing, though: fear passes.
But guilt will be with you for the rest of your life.

Katarinas eyes gleamed with tears.

Rosa phoned and said she needed money, a lot of money, and she said shed be coming back. She asked if Id help her.

And you did help her, didnt you, Katarina? But how?

Katarinas chin sank to her chest.

So, what did you say to her?

Rosa is beautiful: her face, her body, said Katarina. Not like me. So she
had options.

What options, Katarina?

Theres someone at the school. He, ah hed played with Rosa. He liked her. He always said he wanted to play with her again.

Jonny Diamond?

Katarinas mouth a small, silent oh.

And you, said Clare. You like him?

She shrugged.

You played with him?

I did, she said, but Im nothing on Rosa.

But you slept with him? And afterwards he stopped talking to you?

Katarina looked away, her silence an answer.

And Rosa?

She wouldnt, said Katarina.

So he made her life difficult?

Rosa didnt seem to care, she said. And anyway, she wouldnt sleep with anyone. He told me that if I could get her to play with him again, hed She glanced down, her neck turning pink.

Hed what, Katarina?

He said hed be pleased with me.

A flush crept up her neck again.

So what
happened?

He kept his word. He was really nice to me.

Thats all?

She shook her head. He bought me these, she held back her hair, revealing two jet beads dangling from her earlobes. He bought a bottle of wine too. We drank it together.

And then he slept with you again?

He hurt me. Katarinas eyelids flickered. But what could I say? Afterwards he didnt kiss me, nothing. He just went to sleep.
I didnt know what to do, so I got up and went to the bathroom. Then I heard his phone beep. I dont know, something made me look. It was from Lily. She wanted to know how it was, riding rodeo on the fat cow, asking when was she going to see the pictures.

She was silent, and Clare didnt press her.

I started looking then, said Katarina. For other messages, for photographs. Thats when I saw Rosa
again.

Clares shoulder blades tensed.

What did you see?

A video clip. Katarina stared at her fingers twisting in her lap as if they were snakes. Not that clear, you know how those things are. But it was definitely her.

Katarina, what was going on in the clip? Clare took the girls chin and turned her face towards her. Tell me.

Someone was fucking her, said Katarina. A lot of people were fucking
her.

Who were they? asked Clare.

I couldnt see their faces, she said. I didnt know them. Men. Big men.

How many?

I dont know, she sobbed. They stood around her, their legs were like a forest. It was horrible.

Where can I find him?

Katarina looked Clare in the eye, held her gaze.

Jonny will be at Joplins tonight.

Clare crossed the empty lot to the Section 28 offices. Not much overtime happening. The security guards were huddled inside their hut; a vagrant was sliding past the fence, hunting through the bins. It was a relief to be outside, away from Katarina Kraft. Clare felt dirty. Dirty and panicked that if Rosa Wagner was alive and she played this wrong, the girl would die.

The temperature inside
the converted shipping containers was several degrees colder than outside. It was late Sunday afternoon and Ina Britzs desk was clear. Shed be finishing lunch at the Italian Club in Rugby with Paula, the diminutive personal trainer who had Ina Britz wrapped around her pinkie.

Clare had a sudden pang of longing the company, the wine, the platters of melanzane parmigiana. Instead she stopped in
front of her murder map and ran her fingers across its forest of pins. The vulnerable, most of them women and their children, caught in the crosshairs of poverty and rage.

She turned and walked to the window when she heard the bike. She leaned her head against the cool pane, watched as he approached.

Riedwaan walked in with two brown paper bags, handed her one, opened the other. Chips, fried
fish and a Coke for him. For her, a salad, a piece of grilled fish.

Sorry about last night, is what she should have said right off, but the moment passed and he put the food down.

You find something? he asked.

I had a chat with Rosa Wagners friend, Katarina, said Clare. Now shes saying she saw what sounds like a rape tape on her boyfriends phone. Rosa is the star performer.

This girlfriend
know who was in it? he asked.

She said she didnt recognise any of the men, but therell be more tape somewhere. Well find it, and then well find them, said Clare.

Whats the boys name?

Jonny Diamond, said Clare. He was a student at the college for a while but didnt finish.