“Yes.”
“What kind of books are those? From the Amazon?”
My jaw dropped. My eyes widened. My mind boggled. “So, you were born and raised here, I take it?” I asked, already knowing the answer to this question.
She nodded proudly. “Our family are direct descendants of the original Ackerman family who settled here in 1859 and founded this town.”
“How interesting,” I said, although I didn’t mean it at all, but this seemed to be the right response, because she smiled at me.
“Here.” She turned around and took something else off the shelf. “If you’re interested in it, you should come to our annual town festival.” She passed me the piece of paper.
“The Spring Festival,” I read. “But it’s autumn.”
She laughed at my joke, a joke I wasn’t even sure I understood. “It’s a yearly festival that celebrates the arrival of the Ackermans to this town. They suffered a terrible drought on their original farm. So they took the whole family and what remaining livestock they had and headed out into the desert in search of water and a place to build a new farm. They were almost on the brink of death when they finally arrived here and found the spring.”
I nodded. “So, spring, as inwaterspring.”
“Exactly. And each year the whole town reenacts their journey down the main street, and we end it at the spring with some music, a large braai and a party.”
“I’m sorry . . . you reenact it?” Oh. My. God. More alarm bells went off in my head. This sounded totally cultish, and I wondered what they braaied at the spring. A human sacrifice?
“It’s a tradition we’ve kept going for over fifty years. My father started it. But if you ask me, these days it’s more an excuse for a big party.” She winked at me. I hated winky face emojis, I always thought they showed no imagination. So generic. I mean, put some effort into your emojis, for heaven’s sake. Personally, I spend hours thinking about what emojis to use and under what circumstances. I choose them according to color and theme and what message I want to convey. But I found myself responding to her winky face with an even more generic emoji, by giving her a thumbs up.
I looked down at the sieve and snacks on the counter now, very pointedly. I really wanted her to ring them up so I could get out of here. She looked down at them too.
“Is that all you’re taking?” she asked.
I nodded.
And then she did something strange. She simply pushed them, and the notes I had put on the counter, back to me, without ringing anything up. “It’s on the house, as they say.” And then she smiled at me, so big and genuine and kind that I felt a little tug inside. I was used to getting free stuff from people, but they usually wanted something in return for it. A post on Insta, a mention on Facebook. But I could see that her offer didn’t entail this.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
Her smile grew. “Think of it as a welcome present.”
“Thank you. So much,” I said, taking my stuff. “That’s really kind of you.” The last word in that sentence caught in my throat just a little, for some reason.
“It’s a pleasure, Frankie.”
I gave her another small smile and then walked out the shop and back onto the lonely street outside. I looked around again. Twenty-four hours to wait. A whole day! I kicked some stones as I ambled along the pavement, trying desperately to kill time. But time felt like it was murdering me. Pulling my phone out I checked my step count. Only 2,476 steps! God, it felt like I was walking miles out here. Suddenly, I felt a jerk. My phone fell from my hand, so did the leash, and Satan started running.
“Stop!” I yelled after him, as I picked my phone up. “Stop!” I shouted as I tore down the street after him at breakneck speed. I hated this dog. He had been nothing but trouble since I’d discovered him on the side of the road. He left the main street and turned down a small alley.
“Get back here!” I shouted as he gained speed with those big, black, bounding legs. And then suddenly he turned sharply and he was gone, disappeared into a small open door.
“Shit!” I hissed under my breath. I made the same sharp turn, and without thinking, raced into the shop after him, jumping over an orange sign as I went.
“OH, CRAP!” I yelled as I entered and saw the large shelf in front of me. I tried to put on brakes but the soles of my shoes skidded across the floor, making a loud squeaking noise as they went. Flapping my arms in the air, I couldn’t stop my forward motion. Like skidding on ice. The floor was just sweeping me away as if it was . . . wet?
It was wet!It was soapy and wet. My legs lost their footing and finally I tumbled to the floor and connected with something hard. I crawled onto my hands and knees. A spilt bucket lay on the floor in front of me, and there was water everywhere!
I reached for something and pulled myself up, and that’s when I noticed I wasn’t alone. A man holding a mop stood on the other side of a counter looking very pissed off.
“Shit,” I mumbled and then gave the man a small smile.
He did not smile back.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—” I took a step back and as I did, more disaster struck.
