The Mall Read Free Page B

uh… lady… in the office who says you saw her with him here.’
    ‘When?’
    ‘An hour ago, she says.’ Behind him Sipho shifts uneasily, not sure what he should be doing. Intimidating me, tearing up books, strip-searching the customers, whatever they teach you
in security guard school. So he starts fiddling with the products on the counter.
    ‘I don’t know. Lots of people come into the shop.’
    ‘You’ll remember this… lady,’ Simon lowers his voice a fraction, glancing at Khosi loading the window. ‘ Blerrie boemelaar . Bald and scars and
everything.’
    ‘Oh, ja. I did see her. But I don’t remember any child with her.’
    ‘Okay,’ says Simon. ‘Nobody saw anything here.’ I can see this investigation is exhausting him and he just wants to go back to his office and have another drink.
‘Thanks, Chief,’ he says to Sipho, who jerks around to escort him out and knocks over a stand of Nelson Mandela commemorative fridge magnets on his way out.
    I can’t help but remember that weird-looking woman. She was in the store about an hour ago. There are certain customers who just make me want to run the moment I see them, and they are the
ones who always, without fail, end up at my till. This one was a youngish black woman with an unconvincing English accent she was obviously putting on to make her sound posher than she was. Because
she had a shaved head and dressed like a bum. On the side of her face was this huge scar, the sort of scar you don’t know how to look at. She was hanging edgily around the counter, smelling
of smoke and sweat, but I could see she wasn’t going to buy anything. I didn’t want to help her, but I wanted her to go away and stop lurking around where I could see her. That scar was
making me uncomfortable.
    So I said, ‘Can I help you?’
    She took a long look at me, appraising me up and down like I’m some sort of freak show, her lips curling in disgust. Then she said, ‘Fuck you’, and walked a few paces away,
jittering, her eyes twitching from door to shelf to floor to counter.
    Now I wonder if the missing child could be the boy I saw in the service corridor. It can’t have been the same one. Hers is a black kid, right? The boy I saw was white, Greek or Portuguese
or something. Although it’s quite a complex route from the back of the bookshop, there’s no way out except back into the mall. That kid would never have got lost back there. It’s
not worth worrying about. He’s probably sleeping in his parents’ car on the way home by now.
    I start picking up the Mandela magnets and tidying the other junk that’s mixed up on the counter. Nine twenty-five; five minutes to closing. Jesus, what a long day. I need a drink.
    I go into the orders cupboard and flick the lights to signal the time to the remaining customers and Bradley follows me in.
    ‘Hey, Daniel, buddy.’
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘You mind locking up for me tonight?’ he says, handing me his shop keys.
    What the fuck, arsehole? I’d rather you do the hour’s extra work you’re paid triple to do and leave me the fuck alone. ‘Ja, sure, no problem.’
    ‘You are working tomorrow morning, right? So you’ll have to get here first to open up. Seven thirty?’
    ‘Okay.’ I know I’m being a bloody pushover, but what am I supposed to do? If I cash up regularly and always keep the keys safely, maybe Bradley will make me supervisor. I could
really do with the extra money.
    Bradley skips over to where Josie is waiting and says, ‘We’re on.’ She smiles and they go to the back office to collect their stuff.
    The safe key isn’t on Bradley’s bunch so I follow them. I tap in the code and open the back office door.
    ‘I knew he’d—’ Josie’s saying and then she stops and blushes.
    Bradley’s laughing, then turns his back when he realises I’m there.
    I smile at Josie. ‘Oh, hi.’ Then tell Bradley that I don’t have the safe key.
    ‘Oh, sure. Here.’ Bradley fishes the key out of his