‘Karabz!’ he said grabbing her arm. ‘I swear this is cool, they make great coffee here. Just plain coffee. We won’t even go in. I promise,’ he pleaded. Still holding her, he pushed the door to the pub open. ‘Johnny!’ he shouted into the dark interior.

‘Yeah,’ a gruff voice responded.

‘Two take-away cappuccinos, please,’ he asked. ‘Coming up, Will.’

‘Thanks, Johnny,’ said William, closing the door and looking at Karabo. She pulled her arm away from him and swore at him. He raised his eyebrows but said nothing.

‘You have a lot of explaining to do, William English. I am tired of playing your stupid games,’ she stated, crossing her arms over her chest and crushing her precious custard tart in its paper bag.

William raised his eyebrows. ‘Oh really. Like what?’

Karabo’s mouth hung open. She couldn’t believe that he felt nothing about how he’d behaved at the matric dance. She pursed her lips before continuing,

‘Like how you were drunk at the matric dance.  Like how you treated Tiff so badly. Like how you tried to hit on some other guy’s date, and like how you fell into the flower beds, a complete mess.’

William looked at her and showed absolutely no emotion on his face. He was more like a statue than a human being. He flicked his fringe and sniffed, pushing his hands into his low slung jeans, as he looked at the floor. The door to the bar swung open and a squat, ruddy-faced man, probably Johnny, stood in the doorway with two take-away coffees in his big hands. William turned to him,

‘Thanks, Johnny. Put it on the tab?’

‘Sure, Will’ he answered as he handed the coffees to William, and then turned and went back into the dark bar. William handed Karabo a coffee. She prised open the plastic lid and looked into the cup ‘Sugar?’ she asked. ‘For sure!’ William responded.

Karabo took a tentative sip. It was great coffee. The perfect ratio of milk to coffee.

‘It’s good,’ she acknowledged. ‘So are you going to answer me?’ she asked, as she took another sip.

‘Nope,’ said William.

Karabo shook her head. This was so pointless. ‘I’m going back,’ she said, as she turned and started walking back to the main road where the bus was parked. William walked next to her, keeping pace but saying nothing. As they reached the main road, they bumped into the housemaster who had brought them into town. Without checking with Karabo, William spoke to the teacher. ‘Sir, I’ve brought my car into town, so I can give Karabo a lift back. She needs to do quite a bit more shopping and won’t get through it before the bus leaves. Would it be OK if I gave her a lift back?’ he asked, his eyes wide and sparkling. He actually managed to look like a school boy when he put on that face. Karabo marvelled at William’s many changing faces.

Mr Dawson looked at Karabo.  Taken aback, and confused, yet trying to remain impartial. Karabo watched the teacher’s thoughts flitter across his face. ‘Is, um, that what you would like, Karabo?’ he eventually asked.

Karabo didn’t know what she wanted. Would more time with William help her understand him better or confuse her even more? An idea sprang to mind. Perhaps a lift was exactly what she needed. ‘Yes sir. That would be a great help to me,’ she lied.

‘OK, I’ll note it on the register. Please check in with me when you return to school. 6pm at my desk and no later. Are we clear?’ he said looking at both Karabo and William. ‘Definitely, sir,’ acknowledged Karabo. William moved them along quickly towards his car to ensure that Mr Dawson didn’t change his mind.

Chivalrously, William opened the door for Karabo, and she climbed in and breathed deeply, taking in the rich scent of new leather, as she watched him walk round the front of the BMW. Panic caught in her throat. What the hell was she doing? He climbed in and turned to look at her. She blinked back at him. Why did she do this to herself?

‘So, where to Karabo?’ he asked, a wicked smile curling up his beautiful face. Instinctively she wanted to shout, ‘Back to school’ but something stopped her. It was as if an invisible hand had been placed over her mouth, and she continued to stare at him. The sangoma’s face came into view, her panic subsided and she remembered her idea. Her mouth opened and she spoke.

‘I think you know Will. She has been calling me. And maybe even you too…’ said Karabo, her voice clear, her eyes cold.

‘Calling you?’ asked William, his eyebrow twitching.

‘The sangoma from the hut. You, me, Isla, Mzi. That sangoma. I want to know what it all meant,’ said Karabo, frustrated in having to spell it out.

William sighed. ‘Really? You sure?’ he asked, slumping into his seat. ‘I was hoping for something a little more fun,’ he said, looking at her from the corner of his eyes again, flicking his fringe.

‘Yes, really. Let’s go see that sangoma. She has some explaining to do. And you can tell me what you know on the way,’ smiled Karabo knowingly.

‘Whatever,’ said William in a huff, strapping on his seatbelt and starting the car. ‘How are we going to find her anyway?’ he asked leaving town behind him.

‘Head for St Josephs, then get lost. I don’t know?’ said Karabo, ‘You’re the one driving!’

‘Forget it. I know how to get there. What’s this junk that you keep saying that I need to explain myself,’ he asked, changing the subject.

‘Don’t you remember?’ asked Karabo, unable to believe that William couldn’t remember chasing after her and Isla after his party, telling her he knew what the sangoma meant. Had he been completely wasted?

‘No’ he said, shaking his head, concentrating on the road ahead.

She told him the story. ‘Damnit! I thought that was a dream. Didn’t realise I’d actually done it’ said William, clearly surprised.

‘So, what’s it all about?’ asked Karabo, unwilling to let it go.