We’re busy with the evening meal when Aunt Paulina’s phone goes. I hear her saying Papa’s  name and stop eating reluctantly. The everyday food here is one of the best things about Moz: pau, which is this sweetish yellow local bread, and lots of fish and fruit.

Why is Papa calling her and not me? Something has happened to Ma.

Aunt Paulina holds out her phone for me to take. “Your father,” she says, signalling with her eyes for me to leave the room so Juvenal and Julia won’t hear, because they’re the only ones in the family who don’t know why I’ve been sent here.

“Papa?” I feel like all the blood has left my head, and I can hardly breathe as I walk out of the room.

“We thought it was best not to call your phone.” At least his voice is steady, so it can’t be bad news about Ma. “How are you doing, my girl?”

“I’m OK thanks, Papa. But I’m missing home a lot.”

“Listen to me, Chansenga. We miss you too, but it’s not safe to come home yet. The reason I’m phoning is that your mother has had another anonymous call. They’ve discovered you’re not with us. We can’t know how clever these criminals can get with technology … They said something about finding you – at your cousin’s. Maybe they’re guessing, maybe not. But the person spoke about giving your mother a deadline to retract her statement about Nxumalo, and he said that to make her understand how serious they are, they’re going to … to cut you. Those were the words. So we wanted to warn you to be extra careful. I’ve told Paulina.”

God! Have I done this? With my comment about cousins on Facebook? I don’t want to believe it. Let them be guessing, searching for me in Bushbuckridge where Ma has a cousin even more distant than Aunt Paulina is to Papa.

I was going to beg to be allowed to come home, but I can’t now, when I might be the one who has made things worse – for myself.

“They can’t get me here, Papa, can they?” I say.

“Just be careful, Chansenga. These guys are dangerous.”

I ask after Ma, and then we say goodbye. I go back to finish my meal, only now I can hardly swallow the food, and the flavours I was enjoying before have all turned to nothing.

I’m jumpy all the time now, leaving the house with Noemia, going to school, walking in town, going home. The days Rui walks with us, I feel slightly safer. There’s something about him. Somehow I know he wouldn’t just stand there if someone tried to abduct me again, or hurt me in some way. He’d try to stop them.

“Something is wrong?” he asks me on the way to school one morning. “You are tense, I think.”

“I’m fine,” I mutter, and Noemia gives me a sympathetic look.

“I think she is homesick,” she says.

“I can get my father’s car on Saturday,” Rui says. “Praia do Bilene, maybe? We four again? You will like it there, Chansenga.”

At least it will be a distraction.

We head off early on Saturday morning and I begin to relax, knowing there’s a whole weekend ahead. The town of Bilene is attractive and I’m fascinated by the lagoon. Its mouth is closed off to the sea by a great bank of sand, pushed there by a strong seadrift. Rui says local people will dig it open now summer is coming. There’s windsurfing and water-skiing going on, lots of music and beer, and the sun is shining.

It’s a good day.

It’s dark when we get back to the house in Manhica. I’ve invited Dino to come in for coffee, a cheek when I’m a visitor, I know, but I sort of manipulated Noemia into seconding the invitation.

Rui stops to let us out at the gate, and suddenly I’m wishing he was also coming in. I don’t want the day to end.

Noemia, Dino and I cluster outside the gate as Rui starts to drive off.

“Chansenga!”

A thick, wet voice calling my name. A voice I can’t forget because I keep hearing it in my dreams. Mucus!

He emerges from the shadow of the wall, running straight at me. Something glints in his right hand. A knife.

***

Tell us what you think: Is Chansenga about to get hurt? Can she stop it happening?