says. 'Neither you nor I.'
'How long I must be farm manager?'
'I don't know yet, Petrus. I haven't discussed it with Lucy, I am just exploring the possibility, seeing if you are agreeable.'
'And I must do all the things - I must feed the dogs, I must plant the vegetables, I must go to the market - '
'Petrus, there is no need to make a list. There won't be dogs. I am just asking in a general way, if Lucy took a holiday, would you be prepared to look after the farm?'
'How I must go to the market if I do not have the kombi?'
`That is a detail. We can discuss details later. I just want a general answer, yes or no.'
Petrus shakes his head. 'It is too much, too much,' he says.
Out of the blue comes a call from the police, from a Detective-Sergeant Esterhuyse in Port Elizabeth. His car has been recovered. It is in the yard at the New Brighton station, where he may identify and reclaim it. Two men have been arrested.
'That's wonderful,' he says. 'I had almost given up hope.'
'No, sir, the docket stays open two years.'
'What condition is the car in? Is it driveable?'
'Yes, you can drive it.'
In an unfamiliar state of elation he drives with Lucy to Port Elizabeth and then to New Brighton, where they follow directions to Van Deventer Street, to a flat, fortress-like police station surrounded by a twometre fence topped with razor wire. Emphatic signs forbid parking in front of the station. They park far down the road.
'I'll wait in the car,' says Lucy.
'Are you sure?'
'I don't like this place. I'll wait.'
He presents himself at the charge office, is directed along a maze of corridors to the Vehicle Theft Unit. Detective-Sergeant Esterhuyse, a plump, blond little man, searches through his files, then conducts him to a yard where scores of vehicles stand parked bumper to bumper. Up and down the ranks they go.
'Where did you find it?' he asks Esterhuyse.
'Here in New Brighton. You were lucky. Usually with the older Corollas the buggers chop it up for parts.'
'You said you made arrests.'
'Two guys. We got them on a tipoff. Found a whole house full of stolen goods. TVs, videos, fridges, you name it.'
'Where are the men now?'
'They're out on bail.'
'Wouldn't it have made more sense to call me in before you set them free, to have me identify them? Now that they are out on bail they will just disappear. You know that.'
The detective is stiffly silent.
They stop before a white Corolla. 'This is not my car,' he says. 'My car had CA plates. It says so on the docket.' He points to the number on the sheet: CA 507644.
'They respray them. They put on false plates. They change plates around.'
'Even so, this is not my car. Can you open it?'
The detective opens the car. The interior smells of wet newspaper and fried chicken.
'I don't have a sound system,' he says. 'It's not my car. Are you sure my car isn't somewhere else in the lot?'
They complete their tour of the lot. His car is not there.
Esterhuyse scratches his head. 'I'll check into it,' he says. 'There must be a mixup. Leave me your number and I'll give you a call.'
Lucy is sitting behind the wheel of the kombi, her eyes closed.
He raps on the window and she unlocks the door. 'It's all a mistake, he says, getting in. 'They have a Corolla, but it's not mine.'
'Did you see the men?'
'The men?'
'You said two men had been arrested.'
'They are out again on bail. Anyway, it's not my car, so whoever was arrested can't be whoever took my car.'
There is a long silence. 'Does that follow, logically?' she says. She starts the engine, yanks fiercely on the wheel.
'I didn't realize you were keen for them to be caught,' he says. He can hear the irritation in his voice but does nothing to check it. 'If they are caught it means a trial and all that a trial entails. You will have to testify. Are you
