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got us to meet each other at the Farmers Co-op in Oudtshoorn. I was so shy before that (what with the scars after the accident), and the Supper Club has helped me so much. I’ve started to feel almost normal, and now I’m dating one of the people in the club .
    Anyway, at this year’s arts festival, our Ostrich Supper Club is doing a little project with the sponsorship of some ostrich farmers. We have made an ostrich recipe booklet (including some of your great recipes!) and we are having a cooking demonstration and a small dinner at one of the stalls near the beer tent tomorrow night. I hope you are attending the KKNK, and it would be so wonderful if you could come as our guest of honour. You started the whole thing going, and we are all big fans of your ‘Love Advice and Recipe Column’. Sorry for the last-minute notice, but we are a bit deurmekaar when it comes to planning. We are better at eating and chatting and drinking red wine .
    Below is my phone number. You are welcome to bring a date or a friend .
    All best wishes ,
    Annemarie van der Walt
    (my real name!)

    The idea of a date vs a friend pulled my mind to that teenager’s letter. But I steered it back to the Supper Club. Maybe I should go to the KKNK. But it was quite a long drive to Oudtshoorn. I yawned and looked at the office clock. Only 8 a.m. and I was tired.
    I heard revving and squealing; Hattie had arrived outside. There was the clicking sound of her neat footsteps up the path. I put on the kettle to make her tea.
    â€˜Hello, Tannie Maria,’ she said. ‘You’re here bright and early.’
    â€˜Morning, Hats.’
    â€˜Goodness gracious, Maria, what happened to you? You look dreadful.’
    My hand went to my hair.
    â€˜No, not your hair, the rest of you. You look like you haven’t slept for a week.’
    â€˜I’m fine,’ I said, or tried to say, but it came out funny: ‘I-i-i’m fi-i-i-i-i-ne.’
    â€˜My, oh my, Maria,’ said Hattie, pulling her chair up next to mine and sitting down. ‘Whatever is the matter?’
    She handed me my coffee and a rusk.
    â€˜No, thanks,’ I said. ‘I’m on a di-i-i-i-et.’ To my surprise, I found I was crying.
    She drew in her breath in shock. ‘No! Is that why you’re in such a state?’
    I shook my head. Then nodded my head.
    â€˜You’ve been having trouble sleeping for a while, haven’t you?’ she asked.
    I nodded.
    â€˜Have you tried sleeping tablets?’
    I shook my head.
    â€˜Have you been to see a doctor?’
    â€˜I saw a counsellor. She put me on this diet.’
    â€˜What a load of poppycock!’ Hattie said. ‘You need a doctor, Maria. I know we’ve got doctors in Ladismith, but there’s an excellent one in Oudtshoorn that I’d like you to meet. Doctor Walters. You are coming to the KKNK, aren’t you? It’ll be fun.’
    I found a tissue in my handbag and blew my nose. ‘I’m not sure,’ I said. ‘I feel so tired—’
    The phone rang, and Hattie answered. ‘ Klein Karoo Gazette . . . Jess!’ She listened for a while and then said, ‘Hold on . . . Maria, Jessie says Slimkat is fine, but something has happened. Warrant Officer Reghardt Snyman, Detective Henk Kannemeyer and half the Ladismith police are at the KKNK. Can I tell her we’re on our way?’
    I took a deep breath and said, ‘Yes.’

CHAPTER TEN
    The drive to Oudtshoorn is beautiful. Wild green hills and mountain passes with lovely patterns of red rock. But I kept my eyes closed for a lot of it because Hattie was driving. I was crazy to have agreed to go in her car. But I really was tired. I’d packed quickly and hoped I had everything I needed. A change of clothes, my diet lunch in a Tupperware (boiled egg and salad). I’d asked my neighbour, Rita van Tonder, to come and feed my chickens and put them in their hok at night.