Fly Away Home by Vanessa Del Fabbro Page A

church charity that cared for women at risk to collect her.
    â€œBethany House is not far from here,” she added. “I can’t tell you if she’s still there or not, but someone at the hostel might be able to help you.”
    â€œGod bless you, Sister,” said Francina. She stood up, and Sister Agnes allowed herself to be hugged. Hercules shook her hand.
    â€œI hope you find her,” she said, opening her office door. “Now where’s my mug? I was about to make tea.”
    The nurse at the front desk looked at them suspiciously when they came out, but didn’t say a word.
    â€œWhat a nice woman,” Francina whispered to Hercules as they navigated their way out of the hospital.
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    Bethany House, Francina discovered as Hercules followed the route he had plotted on his map, was close to where Monica used to work as a radio journalist. Melville was a fashionable area, but on the outskirts, where they found Bethany House, the homes had not been renovated and some even looked ready for demolition. Hercules parked on the busy street and rang the doorbell alongside the security gate in the perimeter wall.
    A young woman opened the front door of the house and shouted, “Yes?”
    Hercules raised his voice. “We’re looking for Lucy.”
    â€œWho?”
    â€œLucy?”
    The young woman disappeared, and Francina and Hercules heard the door slam. A short while later, the door opened again and the same young woman walked down the garden path toward them. She unlocked the security gate and locked it again behind them when they’d entered.
    â€œYou can wait inside,” she told them.
    As they followed her to the house, Francina glimpsed a tattoo on the back of her neck. The young woman told them to take a seat in the living room. Francina and Hercules chose a worn beige couch, sinking down so deeply that Francina wondered if she’d ever be able to get up. The other furniture was in no better condition and the curtains were almost worn through, but there was a shine on the battered coffee table and the lemony smell of wood polish. The place was clean and well cared for.
    Hercules stood up when he heard the door open. The woman who entered was thinner than in the photograph, her hair was covered by a scarf and she leaned heavily on a cane, but there was no mistaking that she was Lucy.
    The worried look on her face indicated that she had no idea who Hercules and Francina were or why they wanted to see her.
    Francina quickly explained their connection to Zukisa.
    â€œYou’ve seen my mother?” asked Lucy. Instead of the smile of relief Francina had expected, she seemed even more fearful.
    Francina nodded.
    â€œWhat did she tell you?”
    Francina knew exactly what Lucy didn’t want to hear, and felt relieved. Shame was the natural response of someone needing forgiveness. If Lucy felt shame, then Francina and Hercules might succeed in getting her to return to Cape Town.
    Francina evaded the question. “Your mother misses you. Your children miss you.”
    â€œMy mother said that?”
    Francina could not lie and tell her that her mother had used those exact words, but she knew it to be true. How could a mother be separated from her daughter and not miss her?
    â€œYour children need you,” she told Lucy.
    Zukisa’s cousin sat down heavily in a threadbare armchair. “No, they don’t. I’m not a good mother. I’ve done some bad things—”
    â€œShhh,” said Francina, cutting her off midsentence. “That’s all in the past now.”
    â€œI haven’t had a drink since I came here from the hospital. I’ve been working in the kitchen and thinking about my life.”
    Francina realized then that it had not been God’s plan for them to help Lucy dry out. He had already taken care of that. She offered up a silent prayer of thanks.
    â€œYour life is in Cape Town with your children,”