The place was a flat in Hillbrow. The photographer had sounded irritated when Londi phoned him a second time because she couldn’t find the card with his address on it.

Lucky that Sounds didn’t expect her to work at weekends, she thought as she stepped out of the filthy lift and started looking for the right number. Also that he’d said weekends were fine and she should come that same afternoon so he could take sample shots.

Esaia took a long time to open the door.

“Come in,” he said, looking her over with his secretive eyes.

The flat was depressing, like no-one had dusted or brushed the carpet in a long time. Takeaway cartons lay everywhere, smelling of old food.

A middle-aged woman came out of a room, looking too smartly dressed for this place. She glanced at Londi, nodded to Esaia, and said, “Looks young and fresh enough. I’ll tell them.”

Then she left the flat.

“Let’s get on with it,” the Esaia said, and showed Londi into the room the woman had come from. “There’s a rail of clothes behind that curtain. Put something on, shoes too, so we get a feel for what suits you.”

Londi hesitated. The room didn’t look like a studio. There was a bed against one wall. But this was just a test session, she reminded herself. Probably Esaia did his real work outside, around the city.

She also had to remind herself of the cash sum he’d mentioned on the phone when she saw the clothes: tatty, some reeking of sweat. Garments trimmed with fake fur or feathers and some tiny satin and leather shorts made her giggle.

She chose jeggings and a white top with a low, elasticated neckline, because a halter-neck she quite liked smelled too bad to touch. As for putting her feet into any of the shoes lying beneath the rail…

She kept her own pumps on, and stepped out.

“Not bad,” Esaia said. “But those shoes are no good … Wait, I know. You can be barefoot. Sprawl on the bed like you’re a school kid relaxing at home, reading phone messages or something.”

“Should I get my phone?”

“OK.”

Londi fetched it from the bag she’d left behind the curtain, noticing the battery had died again. She was having to charge the thing several times a day.

She kept her shoes on until she reached the bed with its strange, slippery cover; she couldn’t bear the thought of her bare feet on the greasy-looking carpet.

Right, she decided, taking up the pose she thought Esaia meant. I can do this.

“Should I smile, look dreamy, or what?” she asked.

“Whatever.” He was fiddling with his camera.

He took a few photos, then told her to change her pose. Some of the positions he wanted were crazy. One leg in the air, then the other, or on her knees and elbows, staring at the phone screen, with her bum up in the air.

Think of the money.

“OK, settle back against the cushions,” Esaia said. “One arm behind your head. Hold the phone up with the other hand … no, more casual. Pull your top down a bit, so your shoulder shows … lower.”

That was when Londi began feeling truly uncomfortable.

“Lower,” he repeated.

“Too low,” she said, realising the whole upper curve of her left breast was showing.

“No need to be shy with me.” He gave her an empty smile. “I’m a pro. Let’s see your nipple, like the top has slipped and you’re so into the phone call, you–”

“You know what, Esaia?” Londi swung her legs off the bed and felt for her pumps with her feet. “Maybe I’m being silly, but I’m so not comfortable with this. I’m out of here.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Esaia snapped. “We’re not finish–”

“Sorry to waste your time.” Londi walked towards the curtained corner.

“Wait. Listen, I’ve got two guys coming to look at you, and if they like what they see…” Esaia strode towards her and snatched her dead phone out of her hand. “So you can’t call anyone.”

He walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. Londi was too stunned to move.

Then she heard a key turn in the lock.

Now what? She began to feel very afraid. What two guys did he mean? What did they want with her?

She pulled on her own clothes, and rushed over to the window. Dust and dead moths fell out of the curtain folds as she pulled them open. She looked out at a concrete wall a few metres away. The window had burglar bars, and anyway, this flat was – how many floors up?

Londi sat down on the bed and put her face in her hands. If only she hadn’t been tempted by the promise of money, if she hadn’t started envying YoYo…

She didn’t know how long she sat there. She tried shouting a few times, over the sound of the television Esaia must have switched on in the next room.

What was going to happen to her? Her imagination kept supplying terrifying answers. She fought to remain calm.

Gogo was the only person who had any idea where she was, and Londi hadn’t given her details such as the photographer’s name and address. Anyway, by the time Gogo wondered why she hadn’t come home, it would most likely be too late.

More time passed – how much? – and then she heard a loud knock on the flat’s outer door. The two men? She was so frightened, she could hardly breathe.

She listened, straining her ears. The television was loud, but she thought she heard Esaia asking a question, and then answering one.

Then – nothing.

The nothing lasted a few seconds. Next came a loud bang, and more bangs, like someone was breaking down the outer door. A loud protest from Esaia, more banging, a massive crack, as if the door was breaking off its hinges.

What sort of violent people had she got involved with?

Now a furious male voice was demanding: “Where is she? Where’s Londi?”

Busani’s voice. Londi nearly fainted.

Then she started yelling, “Here, Busani! He’s locked me in.”

She grabbed her bag, to be ready to run. Esaia must have left the key in the lock, because a moment later the door opened, and Busani was striding towards her.

“Londi? Are you all right?” His eyes were bright and fierce.

“Fine.” She noticed Esaia staggering around with one hand cupped over his bleeding nose. “Just get me out of here.”

“Wait.” Busani had seen the camera on a low table. “Did he take photos?”

“Yes, but not–” She broke off, seeing her phone beside the camera and snatching it up.

Busani grabbed the camera, examined it swiftly, and then thumbed a couple of icons on the screen.

“Everything deleted. Come babe, let’s go.” He was pulling her towards the outer door. “We need to report this man for holding you against your will. Damn girl, I was worried. First, I wanted to phone you, but I didn’t have your digits, so I had to call Hetty to get them. Then I couldn’t get you anyway, so I thought, well, after last night I know where you live, so why not go see you? And then your grandmother tells me what you’re doing, and I just knew it was that guy from the shoot your first day. I never trusted him … So then I went crazy, phoning all around, trying to find out where he hung out. I was driving back to Jozi and at this one red light, I just happened to glance over into the back of the car – and there was this card with his address that you must have dropped.”

“Thank God I did,” Londi breathed, and told him what had happened as the lift carried them down to street level.

“And thank God I found you.” Busani sounded emotional as they stepped out into the street with its stink of petrol and diesel fumes that smelled wonderful to Londi after the stale air in the flat. “I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you. Londi, you know how I feel about you–”

“No, Busani.” She put up a hand to stop him. “All right, I feel the same about you, but – it won’t work. You’re bad for me, Busani, making me want to compete with YoYo. It’s because of that, wanting to be able to look better, dress like her, go out more, that I came here in the first pla–”

“Compete with Yoliswa?” Busani cut her off. “What are you talking about? Londi, you are so much more than her, that silly girl, always acting like she’s a child.”

“You owe her father.” Londi was despairing.

“Her father, not her.” Busani shook his head in disbelief. “Her father, who wants her be independent. Yes, he asked me to keep an eye on her when she started at Sounds, but that’s all. She’s been playing on that. It cost me nothing to go along with it, but now … Londi, I’ve been meaning to be straight with her, and last night made me even more determined to say something. I was so frustrated when she assumed I’d drive her home. Listen, let me call her right now.”

“No.” Londi took a step towards him. “Later will be fine. I trust you. You’ve … shown me I can believe in you. Coming here…”

She gasped as Busani’s arms came round her, pulling her close.

A moment of gazing deep into each other’s eyes, and then their lips met, never mind they were standing there on the busy pavement.

Londi was drowning in love and desire, every nerve alive to the urgent messages Busani’s mouth and body were sending.

The cheers, jeers and whistles of people passing eventually got through to them. Busani lifted his head, saying, “I think we’re making an exhibition of ourselves.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “This needs privacy.”

“Luckily, my car is parked just near here, and Braamfontein and my flat aren’t far,” he said.

“So let’s go,” Londi said.

For a while, back there, locked in that room, she’d believed this would end up being the worst day of her life.

Instead, it was the best.

***

Tell us: Busani has shown Londi that she can believe in him. How important is trust in a relationship?