The Ghost at Doringkloof

This document is copyrighted. No part of it may be reproduced in any form whatever
without explicit permission in writing from the author.

They were already strung out in a long line by the time they sped past Mrs Rabe's house. Lwazi was at the rear, trying desperately to catch his friends. He glanced across at the turret tower of the Rabe building.

His surprise at the sight that greeted his eyes was so great that he lost his balance and wobbled off into the park. He skidded to a halt and looked again but this time the window was empty. Could it have been, he wondered? Or was it simply his imagination playing tricks on him?

Then it happened again - the phantom was back at the window, head securely bandaged. It waved at him and he, astonished, waved back. He took off again, peddling with added energy in excited pursuit of his friends. "Yimani bahlobo!" he was shouting. "Stop! Stop! I've seen Rajit!"

It was quite five blocks before Pepper heard the faint shouts in the distance. He pulled to the side. Pete shot past, turned sharply and returned, just as Lwazi was sliding to a halt beside them.

"I've seen Rajit!" he gasped, quite out of breath after the desperate chase.

"Where?" Pepper demanded, scarcely believing the news.

"Back there," said Lwazi, pointing. "In the turret room of Mrs Rabe's house."

"Are you certain?" asked Pepper, doubtful whether or not to believe him. If it was Pete making the claim, he would know it was rubbish but Lwazi . . .

"It's true," said Lwazi. "It was very quick . . . I looked up and saw him . . . stopped . . . looked again . . . he waved at me."

"You're nuts!" Pete exclaimed. "Out of your little mind! How can it be Rajit? He can't be with Mrs Owl and with the Medusa at the same time."

Pepper stared at Pete. "The Medusa!" he repeated. "Of course!" He beat his forehead with both fists. "How could we be so blind . . . so stupid?"

His friends looked at him in amazement. "What do you mean - so stupid?" asked Lwazi. "Who's stupid?"

"The Medusa!" Pepper exclaimed, as if in answer. "Don't you see?" He looked from Lwazi to Pete but clearly they didn't see.

"The Medusa!" he repeated. "That's what we call Mrs Rabe."

"I don't catch," said Pete.

"Yes!" Lwazi suddenly shouted. "The Medusa not only turns people to stone who look at her. She also has snakes for hair!"

"Right," said Pepper. "THE WOMAN BUT ALMOST SNAKES! That's what Rajit said in his note. What he means is THE WOMAN WITH SNAKES FOR HAIR."

"Gee," Pete agreed. "That's clever. Why didn't we think of that before. So you think the Medusa's kidnapped Rajit?"

Pepper nodded. "I don't think it," he said. "I know it. And she's holding him prisoner up in her turret, where she keeps all her other prisoners."

"And that's why she was preparing the turret room," Pete added. "Remember we saw her from of our B-52 bomber?" The "we", of course, was not quite correct because Pete would never have climbed that high in the tree to be able to see into Mrs Rabe's turret-room.

"And the bandages?" Lwazi asked, filled with awe. "You don't think . . . "

"An operation," Pepper answered dramatically. "She's operated on Rajit's head!"

"A pity for Rajit it wasn't me," said Pete sadly. "She could operate on my head any time without doing no damage!"

"We must rescue him," Lwazi declared fiercely.

"We must rescue him," Pepper agreed. Already he was turning his bike. "I'll let you know the plan when we get back."

By the time they reached his house, Pepper knew exactly what they would be doing.

"We'll creep through the gardens like we did the other day," he explained. "We'll rescue him, whatever it takes. We mustn't be caught this time, though . . . or it'll be tickets for Rajit."

They scrambled into the first hedge but, as they emerged on the other side, a familiar smell caught their noses.

"Your neighbours are having a braai," Lwazi whispered.

"Then our luck's in," Pepper assured him, "They always braai on the front stoep . . . so the back'll be perfectly safe."

As they moved across the lawn, however, a clamour of women's voices could be heard near at hand. Pepper held up his hand, indicated caution.

"They're in the kitchen," he hissed.

"White women always seem to stay in the kitchen at a braai," Lwazi groaned. "Why couldn't they join the men out front?"

"They're making salads," Pepper explained. "White women don't like braaing. They far prefer the kitchen."

"I thought all white women would have black servants to make the salads," said Lwazi. "I didn't think they would work in the kitchen at all."

"If they're like my ma," Pete observed, "they'll already have drunk enough brandy not to see us, even if we just walked across the lawn."

"We must be careful," Pepper muttered, ignoring all the comments.

They set off again, throwing caution to the wind, but the women were too occupied to notice them. In the second garden, however, they once again came across the dog, stretched out in the sun and sleeping solidly.

"He won't wake up," Pepper whispered confidently. "I think he's deaf."

There was no sound from the house as they passed the shrubs and ferns. The family appeared to have gone out for Sunday lunch. It seemed all too easy.

"You whites spend a very different Sunday to us," Lwazi observed. "My home in East London would never have been quiet like this."

Pepper was about to make a comment but thought better of it. Time was short. Instead he pushed through the last hedge into the Medusa's yard and there, in front of them, was her turret building. He surveyed it, silent and grim-faced.

"We must find a way to climb up there," he was saying.

"Can't we just go knock on her door?" Pete suggested. "Tell her we've come to fetch Rajit?"

Pepper looked him, dumbfounded. "Course not!" he snapped, and that was that.

"There's a drain-pipe next to the house," Lwazi whispered. "If one of us scrambled up there, we could perhaps reach the turret balcony."

"And we could grab Rajit," Pete said, "and abseil to safety." In his excitement he quite forgot the need for silence. He also forgot that they hadn't brought the ropes with them.

"Ssshhh! She'll hear us!" whispered Pepper. "Only one of us need go up, and I suppose it'd better be me since I'm the captain." There were no objections. "Keep an eye open for the Medusa," he hissed and set off for the building.

He seized the drain-pipe firmly and tugged. It seemed secure enough to bear his weight. Thereupon he planted his feet squarely on the brick wall and began the ascent of the turret face.

Pete and Lwazi admired the athletic way their captain scrambled up the drainpipe. He was clearly the best person for the job. In fact, Pete for one believed that nobody else could have done it.

The difficult section was the climb from the drainpipe onto the balcony. There was no hand or foothold to aid Pepper in the transfer, so he'd have to swing across. There was only one way to do it. He took a deep breath, let go the drain with one hand and simultaneously lunged for the balcony rail to his right.

He clutched wildly and for a moment thought his fingers would slip off. He looked down and saw the concrete path directly below him. There'd be no rope this time to save him . . . or even a pool to catch him.

His fingers held firm, however, and he quickly released his hold on the drain-pipe. For an instant he hung suspended, swinging with only one hand, then grabbed with the other, hauling himself upwards to safety.

"Rajit!" he called in a harsh whisper. "Rajit, are you there?"

There was an answering mumble from within. The door opened and Rajit appeared, his head swaddled in bandages, a surprised look on his face.

"Pepper!" he exclaimed. "It's nice to see you and all. But what're you doing here?"

"Ssshhh!" warned Pepper, a finger to his lips. "She'll hear you."

"Who?" asked Rajit.

"The Medusa, of course," said Pepper, almost forgetting to whisper in the urgency of getting Rajit to understand. "If we don't get you out now, she'll execute us both for sure."

Rajit nodded and winked. "Wait till I put my shoes on," he said. "But don't you think . . . "

He didn't finish the sentence. There was a noise at the base of the stairwell. The Medusa was on her way up.

"No time for the shoes," Pepper urged. "Just throw them to Pete and go down bare foot."

"How?" Rajit asked.

"Lower yourself as far as you can from the rails," said Pepper, "then drop. And don't forget to roll over when you land, or you'll do yourself a damage on the concrete pathway."

"But. . . " said Rajit.

"No time for that either," Pepper warned, pushing him. "Quickly. Over you go."

Rajit had no option. He tossed his shoes down and they were eagerly gathered by the waiting Pete. He then stepped over the rail, lowered himself with both hands, and dropped.

Pepper watched anxiously, hoping that Rajit wouldn't be injured by the fall. When his friend scrambled back onto his feet, however, he appeared to have no more than a pronounced limp.

The sound of the Medusa's footfall in the stairwell was getting ominously close. Pepper could wait no longer. He swung himself over the rails and very nearly let go immediately. Luckily he didn't, he thought later. The shock of impact was so great that he was sure he might have broken a leg if he'd dropped from higher.

"Run," he urged, struggling to his feet.

Pete and Lwazi needed no second urging. They sprinted for the front gate, the shortest distance to safety. Rajit hesitated a moment, confused, before limping off after them with Pepper in hot pursuit.

At that moment Mrs Rabe mounted the final step and emerged into the turret apartment. She looked around the empty room in surprise. Where had Rajit gone? She saw the balcony door standing open, stepped out and peered over. It was a long way down, she thought, and shook her head. Whatever were those boys up to this time?

She sighed. Oh well, she thought. The tea was made and biscuits were out. She'd just have to eat them by herself.