recounted of his working day. Occasionally she even offered valuable insights. This was a rare treat, because then Daniel would know for sure that she was really interested and not merely being polite. It was difficult to see through her cool friendliness, except when she was with Mpho, or at times when she was in the mood to respond to his teasing.
His cellphone rang.
“Modise,” he answered.
“I’m having a party on Friday. Don’t forget ukuletha ugoverness along with you.” The caller hung up.
Daniel sighed. His friend wasn’t called “the great Tshepo Moeketsi” for nothing. If he didn’t take Nomvula with him on Friday, Tshepo would definitely come to his house to check her out, and Daniel didn’t want that to happen. Nomvula deserved the undisturbed security and personal space she would enjoy in her own home.
Daniel checked his watch; it was three o’clock. Might as well go home, he convinced himself. Mpho was leaving for East London with Lerato and family tomorrow, so he should spend time with her.
Who was he kidding?
7
Nomvula was at her wits’ end. Things had progressed from bad to worse since the morning. Mpho had been cranky as anything all day.
It had started at breakfast. Mpho put her spoon in her bowl of cereal and stirred it morosely, then she started spooning it onto the table.
“Please stop that, you’re making a mess,” Nomvula asked.
But Mpho continued as if not a word had been spoken.
“Mpho! Did you hear me? I said . . .”
“No!” Mpho screamed and lashed out with her hand, sending the bowl and its contents to the floor. Then she sat there staring mutinously at Nomvula.
Not having expected such an extreme reaction from someone usually so even-tempered, Nomvula was taken aback. She sat down and leaned towards the child.
“Sweetie, what’s wrong?”
Mpho sat back in her chair, folded her arms and with her head lowered, remained sullenly quiet.
“Are you feeling sick, my baby?”
A tear trickled down Mpho’s cheek. Nomvula gathered the little girl up in her arms and held her tight, rocking her gently back and forth. Sometimes all a body needed was some comfort. Nomvula prayed that Mpho’s mood would lighten. But it didn’t.
* * *
A while after lunch Mpho started crying. What had started out as whimpering and whining now turned into full-blown wailing. Nothing Nomvula did could persuade her to stop.
Frantically Nomvula felt the child’s forehead, but there was no sign of a temperature. She tried to feel Mpho’s stomach to check for any signs of tightness or discomfort, but the little one squirmed and wriggled out of her arms.
“I want my daddy!” Mpho wailed.
Nomvula’s stomach was cramping and her head was beginning to ache – a steady thumping at her temples and behind her eyes.
“Mpho, baby, it’s all right, stop crying now.” She took the child in her arms and gently patted her back. So far this job had been too good to be true; reality had to kick in sometime. Nomvula felt close to tears herself, but she fought to remain calm. If Mpho sensed she was no longer in control, her chances of quietening her down would be next to nothing.
“Ssh! It’s okay, honey, hush now.” Nomvula walked up and down with Mpho in her arms, patting her back and fervently hoping the rhythm would soothe her. The little one finally fell asleep amidst hiccups and sniffs.
Everything was fine for the next hour until the telephone rang. Nomvula rushed to pick it up, but she wasn’t fast enough. Mpho sat up on the sofa, and finding herself all alone, began to cry again.
There was no one at the other end of the line! Nomvula could have screamed.
“It’s okay, I’m here.” She tried to pick Mpho up, but this time the little one refused to cooperate.
“I want my daddy!” she yelled, and followed that up with more wailing.
Nomvula was not mentally equipped to deal with this. She stared helplessly at Mpho. She didn’t want to phone Daniel and admit that she really wasn’t coping with the first crisis involving her charge, so she proceeded to try and cajole Mpho with all her favourite treats: ice cream, pizza, juice, more ice cream. But all in vain.
“Oh, oh, oh, oh! I’m afraid nothing will work when she’s worked herself up into a state like this.”
Nomvula turned to see Daniel putting his briefcase down and shrugging off his jacket. She was ashamed to admit that she was desperately relieved to see him. He gave her a reassuring smile and walked over to scoop Mpho up in his arms.
“Daddy’s baby having a bad day, huh?” He spoke softly to Mpho and wiped the tears from her cheeks.
“She’s been like this ever since this morning. I just can’t seem to get through to her.”
Nomvula hated herself for sounding so weak and defeated, but her stomach was cramping fiercely, her lower back was killing her and her head was pounding.
“You okay? You don’t look so good.” Daniel sounded concerned.
She didn’t want him to think she couldn’t cope, but the concern in his voice was her undoing. It was the first time in as long as she could remember that Nomvula voluntarily admitted she couldn’t manage on her own. Suddenly she understood why Mpho wanted her daddy; she too wanted someone to hold her and chase away whatever it was that was bedevilling their day. His presence alone was reassuring.
Daniel put an arm around her shoulders and gave her a friendly squeeze.
“It’s all right,” he said, guiding her to the stairs. “Go and lie down. I’ll take Mpho out for a bit; that usually does the trick.”
“Are you sure? I mean, I shouldn’t just dump my responsibilities . . .”
He gave her a gentle push.
“Go on. You’ll have time enough to deal with Mpho’s difficult days. You don’t look up to it today. Now go,” he ordered and Nomvula obeyed, grateful for the reprieve.
* * *
“Hi.”
Nomvula opened her eyes to see Daniel sitting beside her on the bed. It always took her some time to come to full wakefulness, so she was not unduly alarmed at finding him so close to her.
“Hi. What’s the time?” she asked sleepily.
“It’s a little past eight.”
Nomvula shot right up. “Why didn’t you wake me? Where’s Mpho?”
“Relax.” He gently pushed her down with a hand on her shoulder and then promptly withdrew it. “She’s bathed and tucked in for the
