Some of the park benches were occupied with couples or with elderly people. Others had a solitary occupant who may have sought a serene place to relax or read the daily paper. Many other benches were unoccupied, and Christine would have loved to have lingered in the park, but there was no time for that on this occasion. As she made her way toward the Avenida Lisboa, she could hear many birds chattering excitedly in the branches overhead. Were they commenting on the lovely day, she wondered, or were they simply pleased to see her?
As she neared the street, she came to a monument. People often sat on the steps at its base to rest or have a cigarette. As she approached it, she could see that there was a dozen or so people seated on the steps. She would not have paid any attention to this except that she noticed one man seemed to be following her with his eyes. As she came closer, his eyes remained fixed on her, and she noticed that he did not look away. She did not want to make direct eye contact with him, but she had observed that he was dressed in white and she judged that he was an Indian, for he wore a turban and had a well-groomed beard. She sensed that he was staring at her, and his gaze made her uncomfortable. At her first opportunity, Christine crossed the Avenida Lisboa and sought to escape from the man’s sight by quickly losing herself among the many pedestrians. She walked along the crowded sidewalk for a block or so and then paused to look in various store windows.
Christine had loved beautiful things, and fine jewelry was something that had always appealed to her. She saw things that were fashioned out of gold and silver, and some elegant pieces were adorned with diamonds, rubies, emeralds, and other gemstones. She especially liked a lovely necklace that was comprised of several strands of lustrous pearls. Her mother had never shown any interest in such things, but Christine thought that fine jewelry was exquisite. She couldn’t imagine ever owning any elegant jewelry, but she didn’t think that it did any harm to dream about it.
She continued along the sidewalk and paused to admire a variety of Oriental rugs that were on display near a window. She loved the intricate designs and the colors that could be seen in such rugs. It was clear that she appreciated expensive things! How did one afford such things? One undoubtedly needed a good job or perhaps the good fortune to marry someone with money! Perhaps, one day, she would be able to afford luxurious things, but that day was not in the foreseeable future.
She then moved on until she came to a store where fine furnishings were on display. She had no need for any furniture, of course, but it was fun to see what things she liked—or didn’t like. She didn’t know the price of anything, but she suspected that the things she liked would probably be expensive.
She was looking at an upholstered sofa when the reflection of something white across the street caught her attention. Without turning around, she realized that it was the turbaned Indian whom she’d seen by the monument at the edge of the park. He had stopped and was looking her way. He appeared to be studying her through a haze of smoke that came from his cigarette.
As she moved along the sidewalk, she watched the reflections in the windows, and she could see that his pace seemed to match hers. She walked along for about half a block and she saw that he had done the same thing. The reflection in a nearby window confirmed that he was still right across the street. She saw him take a final drag on his cigarette before he cast it to the sidewalk and extinguished it with his foot. She couldn’t imagine why this stranger was stalking her, but the thought of it sent a chill up her spine.
Why was he following her? Was he attracted to her? Did he want to know where she lived? Was he making some sinister plans? In the past, she had walked the streets of Lourenço Marques and felt perfectly safe. Now, she was older, and she was more mindful that there are dangers that had not previously concerned her. She was a young girl, alone, and surprisingly vulnerable. She had heard stories at school about the terrible things that could happen to young women. Some were forced to do things with men that they didn’t want to do, and some had been abducted into something that was called the white slave trade. Sometimes, they had escaped and reportedly told about the terrible things which they had endured, but perhaps there were many kidnapped victims who were never seen again. Such thoughts were terrifying to contemplate.
On the previous evening as she had walked from the depot to the lit boulevard, she had seen some men not far behind her. They may have been completely harmless, but who could say for sure? Nothing had happened, but bad things do happen to good people, and not all people are as good as they seem. Certainly, not everyone can be trusted. Mother had cautioned her that one always needed to be careful.
Certain situations seemed more ominous when it was dark, and she was glad that it was a sunny day. It was unlikely that anything bad would happen in downtown LM in broad daylight. But even now, she knew that she needed to be careful. She did not want him to know where she was going, so she decided that she would go through the crowded bazaar and hasten back to the hotel where she was staying.
When the traffic was such that he could not cross the street, she turned and walked quickly along a side street that would bring her to the bazaar. In that usually crowded area, she hoped that she could lose the one who seemed to be following her. The bazaar was familiar to her, of course, as that was where she had done her recent Christmas shopping.
Although she had hoped to do some browsing there, the situation at hand now caused her to believe that she ought to hurry straight back to the hotel.
At a moment when she glanced back to see if the turbaned man was following her, she had accidentally collided with a vendor’s pushcart, causing several bolts of fabric to fall from the cart and unroll across the ground. The vendor was understandably upset that she hadn’t been watching where she was going. Under different circumstances, Christine would have stopped to apologize, and she would probably have helped to clean up the mess, but she could only blurt out, “Sorry!” as she hurried through the bazaar toward her hotel.
After reaching the hotel, she went to her room, got her luggage, and then stopped at the reception desk to pay her bill and order a taxi. As she was waiting for the taxi, she saw the turbaned man standing right across the street! Just why had he been stalking her? It was likely that she would never know the answer to that question. She saw that the man had dropped his cigarette and seemingly extinguished it with disgust as the taxi was pulling away from the hotel. Clearly, this day in LM was not one that she would ever forget.
Chapter 4
Christine knew when the train was to leave for Swaziland, and she arrived at the depot well before its departure time. After the taxi driver had been paid, she purchased a ticket and then took her luggage along the platform until she found an unoccupied bench. On the wall of the depot was a large clock, and she was soon surprised to realize that the train to Swaziland was not yet there. Soon, others in the area seemed to be noting that the train was not on time. What could be the reason for the delay? A departure that was a few minutes delayed was nothing to worry about, but when forty-five minutes had passed, Christine began to grow concerned! A prolonged delay in LM could mean that she would miss the bus at the border that she should be taking to Mbabane. She didn’t want to miss her connections at the border for she’d had enough of missed connections on the previous day! She knew that this had already been a trip that she would never forget.
About fifteen minutes passed before a train finally pulled into the station. Someone asked a conductor if this was the train to the Swazi border, and the railroad employee nodded affirmatively. No one asked why the train was late, and chances were good that the reason for the delay would never be known.
Those intending to board the train soon did so, and within a few minutes, the train pulled out of the station and began making its way out of LM. Within a few minutes, they had left the metropolitan area, and Christine was one of many who sat quietly in a seat and passively gazed at the rural scenery of Mozambique as it appeared on this particular sunny afternoon.
Christine had to acknowledge that she had been very upset with Sara Rankin, but they had managed