geranium in a tin. It nodded a pretty red flower at Clare as she knocked on the bright yellow door.
The bolt shot back and the door opened a crack.
Mrs Daniels? asked Clare. The woman was about Clares age, though a very different life had been scripted on her once-pretty face. A wiry little boy clung to her legs. A television, tuned into Cartoon Network,rat-a-tatted and squealed.
Hello, Im looking for DesRay.
What for?
Can I come in? asked Clare, aware of the watchers behind the windows arrayed behind her. Mrs Daniels seemed to have the same concern, as she quickly opened the door and ushered Clare in.
Why you looking for her? Belligerence and fear in her voice, Mrs Daniels stood in the middle of the living room with her arms folded. Outside,two black-and-white maids uniforms were pegged on the washing line. Inside, a flatscreen TV, a puffy leather lounge suite that crowded the small room, a sound system. Costly possessions, on a cleaning womans wage.
DesRay, said Clare. Is she in?
Ja, shes here. Arms folded across her chest. Shes asleep.
Could you wake her? asked Clare. I need to speak to her.
Why, whats she done?
Is she pregnant,your daughter? asked Clare.
Whats it got to do with you?
Her clinic card was found in a house down the valley, said Clare. Something seems to have happened in there. Id like to talk to her about it.
Its hard for her. She hasnt got a father, said Mrs Daniels. My husband, he drowned in a fishing accident. A girl needs her father in a place like this. Thats what I say. Otherwise she goes withgangsters. What else can she do? They dont take no for an answer.
Whats his name? asked Clare.
The shoulders of the womans dressing gown sagged.
Chadley, said the little boy who was wrapped around her legs. Chadley Wewers. Hes mos there in the Wendy house at the back.
22
Clare knocked on the flimsy wooden door.
Whos it? A rough voice.
Child Protection, said Clare, not quite truthfully. Open the door. She didnt need to knock twice. A man opened the door, his jeans buckled low. Calvins a white stripe against his belly. His chest was inked blue with the gang chappies hed earned in prison, the tattoos giving a detailed history of his relationship with the law.He looked to be twenty-one, an old man by some standards. He had a gold bridge where hed had his Flats passion-gap filled the abalone hed fished out converted into mouth bling.
Clare flashed her badge. Im looking for DesRay.
A girl appeared in the doorway, the cold wind moulding her pink nylon nightie against her breasts, the tight curve of her belly, her bare legs. Bambi-eyes, full mouth,her bleached hair windblown.
Youre DesRay? asked Clare.
What you want, she said. I did nothing.
There was a gap between the two young people and the door. Clare stepped inside. It was dim the windows salted up and grimy from the stiff wind that blew in off the ocean. Another flatscreen television, a sound system that looked like a spaceship. The room smelt of cigarettes and takeaways and sex.DesRays clothes lay in a heap on the floor. An orange hoodie, black leggings, muddy Nikes.
You went mountain climbing last night, DesRay? Clare picked up one of her tackies. Size three.
She looked at Clare and shook her head.
I was here, she said.
He was with you? asked Clare.
We were together. The girl glanced at her boyfriend. He put his arm around her narrow shoulders.
You been on themountain too, Chadley? asked Clare. Theres mud on your jeans. Ive never seen mud in Hangberg all you get here is sand.
Why you fucking with us?
Like I said, Child Protection, said Clare. Is that your baby?
Of course its my fucking baby, said Chadley.
Do you go to the clinic with DesRay?
Of course I go, said Chadley. I got to see what she must eat. What she must do. I check what they writethere, its mos our baby. I take DesRay and the card to the clinic. I know what they think of me, but Im not a monster. Im making it right.
I found DesRays clinic card on the other side of
The bolt shot back and the door opened a crack.
Mrs Daniels? asked Clare. The woman was about Clares age, though a very different life had been scripted on her once-pretty face. A wiry little boy clung to her legs. A television, tuned into Cartoon Network,rat-a-tatted and squealed.
Hello, Im looking for DesRay.
What for?
Can I come in? asked Clare, aware of the watchers behind the windows arrayed behind her. Mrs Daniels seemed to have the same concern, as she quickly opened the door and ushered Clare in.
Why you looking for her? Belligerence and fear in her voice, Mrs Daniels stood in the middle of the living room with her arms folded. Outside,two black-and-white maids uniforms were pegged on the washing line. Inside, a flatscreen TV, a puffy leather lounge suite that crowded the small room, a sound system. Costly possessions, on a cleaning womans wage.
DesRay, said Clare. Is she in?
Ja, shes here. Arms folded across her chest. Shes asleep.
Could you wake her? asked Clare. I need to speak to her.
Why, whats she done?
Is she pregnant,your daughter? asked Clare.
Whats it got to do with you?
Her clinic card was found in a house down the valley, said Clare. Something seems to have happened in there. Id like to talk to her about it.
Its hard for her. She hasnt got a father, said Mrs Daniels. My husband, he drowned in a fishing accident. A girl needs her father in a place like this. Thats what I say. Otherwise she goes withgangsters. What else can she do? They dont take no for an answer.
Whats his name? asked Clare.
The shoulders of the womans dressing gown sagged.
Chadley, said the little boy who was wrapped around her legs. Chadley Wewers. Hes mos there in the Wendy house at the back.
22
Clare knocked on the flimsy wooden door.
Whos it? A rough voice.
Child Protection, said Clare, not quite truthfully. Open the door. She didnt need to knock twice. A man opened the door, his jeans buckled low. Calvins a white stripe against his belly. His chest was inked blue with the gang chappies hed earned in prison, the tattoos giving a detailed history of his relationship with the law.He looked to be twenty-one, an old man by some standards. He had a gold bridge where hed had his Flats passion-gap filled the abalone hed fished out converted into mouth bling.
Clare flashed her badge. Im looking for DesRay.
A girl appeared in the doorway, the cold wind moulding her pink nylon nightie against her breasts, the tight curve of her belly, her bare legs. Bambi-eyes, full mouth,her bleached hair windblown.
Youre DesRay? asked Clare.
What you want, she said. I did nothing.
There was a gap between the two young people and the door. Clare stepped inside. It was dim the windows salted up and grimy from the stiff wind that blew in off the ocean. Another flatscreen television, a sound system that looked like a spaceship. The room smelt of cigarettes and takeaways and sex.DesRays clothes lay in a heap on the floor. An orange hoodie, black leggings, muddy Nikes.
You went mountain climbing last night, DesRay? Clare picked up one of her tackies. Size three.
She looked at Clare and shook her head.
I was here, she said.
He was with you? asked Clare.
We were together. The girl glanced at her boyfriend. He put his arm around her narrow shoulders.
You been on themountain too, Chadley? asked Clare. Theres mud on your jeans. Ive never seen mud in Hangberg all you get here is sand.
Why you fucking with us?
Like I said, Child Protection, said Clare. Is that your baby?
Of course its my fucking baby, said Chadley.
Do you go to the clinic with DesRay?
Of course I go, said Chadley. I got to see what she must eat. What she must do. I check what they writethere, its mos our baby. I take DesRay and the card to the clinic. I know what they think of me, but Im not a monster. Im making it right.
I found DesRays clinic card on the other side of
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