The following morning Simphiwe had so many questions she wanted to ask Khanyi, but she knew Khanyi wasn’t going to answer any of them. She was too busy making bacon and eggs for Sifiso – just how he liked them.

Simphiwe only had her thoughts for company. And they were dark, after the nightmare she had had during the night. It was terrible. In the nightmare she had been inside the ‘Killing House’, in the middle of all that burning wood and thick, black smoke. She could hear screaming. Right in front of her very eyes, the ghost of a tall man walked through the wall. He pointed at her and laughed. She woke up terrified and sweating.

The only way she knew of to shake off a bad night was to go for a run. Khanyi’s mom had told her there was a sports centre with an athletics track not far from where they stayed. She could go and train there. When she invited Khanyi and Sifiso to join her, they weren’t keen. They would rather stay and play computer games together, they told her. Maybe it was good. She needed to be alone, and running was a great way of releasing stress and clearing her head.

“Well I’m not hanging around with you lovebirds all day,” Simphiwe said as she left the house.

“Be careful,” Sifiso called after her. “Remember, we don’t know this neighbourhood yet. Don’t get lost.”

Simphiwe ran past kids who were playing marabaraba at the side of the dusty road. She gave the ‘Killing House’ a wide berth. Ten minutes later she reached the open field, ringed with a track. She began to sprint around the perimeter. It was so good to be running again. She used to run all the time in KZN: up hills, down hills, across green fields. She had done brilliantly in athletics at her old school.

She was concentrating so much on her breathing and her pace, changing between jogging and sprinting, that at first she didn’t notice the figure of a man leaning casually against a pole. But after one of her particularly successful sprints, he started to clap – loudly.

Still panting and trying to control her breathing, she spun around. The man was dressed in Levis, a navy, tailored shirt and wore smart shades over his eyes. He leaned forward and said, “Uyisikhokho. Eish, you’re the best. You run like the wind.”

“Ngiyabonga,” she smiled.

“Where did you learn to run like that?”

“In KZN. I was in the athletics team at school. We had a great coach.”

“You train a lot?” He gave her a broad smile.

“Not since I’ve been in Soweto. At least I’ve found this track now. I’ve got to tell Sifiso about it. He would kill to play soccer here.”

“Your boyfriend?”

“My brother.”

“I wish I had a brother,” he sighed. She looked at his big, mournful, brown eyes and her heart melted. “He died,” he said softly.

He shook his head, as though shaking off bad memories. “Hey, but let’s not talk about the bad things. I’m Vusi, by the way.” He held out his hand and squeezed hers.

“Simphiwe.”

“A beautiful name, for a beautiful girl. Where do you stay, Simphiwe?”

She found herself chatting easily to this perfect stranger. He was friendly. And, she didn’t want to go back to the house yet.

“I’m staying with my friend, Khanyi. Her mother was my mom’s closest friend. We moved there after my mom died.”

Vusi frowned when she mentioned Khanyi. Simphiwe thought he was going to ask her something about her friend, but then he seemed to change his mind.

“That must be rough,” he said, “losing your mom like that. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“We’ve both lost someone close to us.” She felt stupid saying it. It was so intimate suddenly, and she didn’t know him. But she couldn’t take it back. And he was smiling.

“Hey, let’s see who can sprint fastest!” she challenged him, trying to lighten things up.

And suddenly they were racing against each other across the field. Simphiwe won, just. She turned to him, out of breath. He laughed. Had he let her win? “Really?” she asked, but she was laughing. He put his hands up in surrender.

“Can I buy you a cooldrink? You must be really thirsty by now. All that running.” Vusi had recovered from the sprint faster than she had.

He obviously didn’t want to leave either, and go back to what he was doing before he came to the track. It was the first time Simphiwe had wondered why he was at the sports centre mid-morning in the first place. He wasn’t dressed for training.

“My car’s parked behind the sports centre’s office block, over there,” he said, pointing across the field. “But the spaza’s close. Let’s walk.”

They strolled down the road together. It felt so natural to Simphiwe, like they were old friends reconnecting, not perfect strangers.

“You said you were staying with Khanyi,” he said casually, as he bought her a cooldrink. “That wouldn’t be Khanyi Dlamini?”

Simphiwe looked up quickly. “That’s right. Do you know her?”

“A little. But a friend of mine knew her well. In fact they were boyfriend and girlfriend. Inseparable. ”

Could Vusi be speaking about Mandla? But for all she knew, Khanyi had had many boyfriends. She was really pretty and outgoing. And Simphiwe had seen how fast she operated with Sifiso. She already had him in the bag with her charms.

They strolled back toward the track and then further on towards the sports centre. By the time they got there Simphiwe couldn’t help herself. She had to know.

“Khanyi’s friend that you spoke about. It wasn’t Mandla by any chance?”

“Khanyi told you about him?”

She nodded.

“He was a great guy. He just got messed up…that’s all. But now he’s gone.”

They had reached his car. It was a black sports car, smart, with leather seats. Vusi must be doing well at whatever he did for a living, thought Simphiwe. She looked at him with added interest.

“What else did Khanyi say about Mandla?” Vusi asked.

“She said something terrible happened in a place they call the ‘Killing House’. That he was burned to death.”

“And it still haunts her.” It was a statement from him, not a question.

“She doesn’t want to talk about what happened, that’s for sure.”

“Does she ever go there – to the ‘Killing House’?” Vusi asked.

“She doesn’t like to. She says she’s seen Mandla’s ghost in that place.”

“Is that so?”

“Sometimes I think she’s very angry about what happened. I wish she’d talk about it more,” said Simphiwe.

“Maybe she will soon. Hey, don’t you want to go out for lunch. It’s almost twelve.” Vusi looked at his watch. “You must be hungry – all that running. I know a really cool place.”

“Um…Khanyi and my brother will worry.”

“So text them. Don’t worry,” he smiled, “I’m not a gangster if that’s what you’re thinking. Yes, back then Mandla and I…” He stopped. “But the fire changed all that. I saw the light. I changed my ways.”

The way he said it made Simphiwe believe him. And besides, she wanted some excitement. She was in a new city. And here was handsome Vusi. She could have a bit of fun of her own. Khanyi and Sifiso were no fun to be with now – they only had time for each other. She also wanted to hear more about the ‘Killing House’, and what better person to tell her than Vusi?

Her heart was beating fast as she texted:

Back l8r. Don’t wori bout me.
Hving a gr8 time.
Made a new friend.

***

Tell us what you think: Should Simphiwe go with Vusi? What will happen?