“What have you stolen?” yelled Mrs Ram, grabbing Thabi’s bag and unzipping it. “Hah. Food.” She snatched out the foil parcel. “You’ve been stealing my food.”

“I…I… it’s just a leftover burger,” Thabi stuttered. “I’m taking it for old Mr Katz…”

“That filthy old man?” Mrs Ram shouted. “You’re stealing my food to give to that disgusting old man? What do you think this is? A soup kitchen? Well I’ll tell you something, girlie,” she said as she grabbed Thabi’s ear and pulled her towards the back door. “If you’re so keen to run a soup kitchen, get out of here and start one. But not with my ingredients on my premises.”

“But Mrs Ram,” Thabi began. “It was a leftover. It was going to be thrown away…”

“It’s still stealing. And you steal from me, you get fired. Take your stuff and get out. And don’t come back. I’ve got a good mind to call the police and lay a charge.” She gave Thabi a shove, threw her bag after her, and slammed the door.

Thabi stood there, dazed. The window opened quietly. Joyce passed her the foil parcel. “Eish man,” Joyce whispered. “She’s a real witch. Here’s the burger. Take it to the old man.”

“Thanks Joyce.” Thabi tried to smile, but her eyes were full of tears. She tucked the parcel in her bag again and set off for the taxi rank. Where was she going to find another job? Mrs Ram wasn’t going to give her a reference. Her rent was due. She’d have enough to pay for this last month, but without a job she’d have nowhere to stay. Maybe I should go home to the Eastern Cape, she thought, as she trudged up the road. But there’s no work there either. Better to stay here and to keep looking.

Look on the bright side, she told herself. It’s only two thirty. I’ll be able to visit Mr Katz. Maybe help him tidy his house a bit, and make him some tea to drink with the burger. I’m sure he’ll feel better if he has a proper meal. I wonder if I should ask him about his son in Australia? He’s too old to live alone. His son should come back and look after him.

She reached the corner and turned towards Observatory station. Old Mr Katz’s house was a few doors down. It was a small Victorian cottage, with broekielace railings round the stoep. It needed painting and the garden needed clearing, but it was still pretty. Wouldn’t it be wonderful if he let me have a room in return for cooking him a meal and looking after him a bit? she thought. Then I’d be able to save some money on rent.

She reached the front gate and pressed the buzzer. Someone groaned. “Tata?” she called, peering over the wall, “Is that you?” Again she heard a groan.

She couldn’t see anything behind the overgrown bushes. “Wait, I’m coming,” she called. She clambered over the gate. “Tata, are you alright?”

Her heart nearly stopped. The old man was lying on the garden path, in a pool of blood.

***

Tell us what you think: Will the old man pass away, or will Thabi be able to save him?