Mason’s Jeep created deep ruts in the mud as he drove the dirt road to Inkululeko the following morning. He needed to see the clinic’s setup for himself, needed to reassure himself that Daisy was safe and that her clinic was secure.
The mobile clinic was parked in a clearing close to the informal settlement, and as he drove up, he was surprised by the incredibly long line snaking its way out from the covered entrance. There had to be at least a hundred to two hundred people—and their assorted animals—waiting. There was no way Daisy and her father could help all these people between eight a.m. and one p.m., which was what Daisy had said the operating hours were on a Saturday.
It was a gloomy day, but the people were happily chatting with each other, some were carrying umbrellas, others wore raincoats, and a few just had plastic bags covering their heads. The settlement was visibly impoverished, but the people in line were cheerful and had an obvious sense of community. Dogs of all sizes were tethered with leashes or makeshift rope harnesses, some obviously ill, others looking bored or nervous, others still picking fights. There were a small number of cats hugged to chests, chickens clucking happily in cages, and even a few cows, horses, and donkeys.
He was filled with a renewed sense of admiration for Daisy now that he could see what she had created. These people needed this service and were grateful for it. But on the outskirts of all this organized chaos there were a few others lurking. Looking tough, acting tough, and obviously up to no good. He knew the type, had seen them in many guises all over the world. But she saw no danger, saw only the happy community. But in his experience, the ones looking for trouble knew when to pick their moment, and it would be when Daisy or her father were at their most vulnerable. There were so many spots on the isolated dirt road that led up to Inkululeko that could be ideal for an ambush, and his stomach churned at the thought of Daisy getting into that kind of trouble.
He stepped out of his Jeep and walked toward the clinic. The people in line prodded each other and pointed at him. He was obviously out of place with his big car and his expensive clothes. He kept his stride loose and unthreatening, nodding and smiling at some of the people who made eye contact. When he saw a familiar face at the entrance of the clinic, he grinned.
“Hello, I know you, don’t I?” It was the pretty young waitress from MJ’s.
“Yes, I’m Thandiwe,” she said with a cheerful smile. “I’m the unofficial receptionist for Dr. Daisy and Dr. Andrew at the Inkululeko pet clinic.”
“Fantastic.”
“I want to be a vet too,” she confided, and Mason felt a pang as he recalled a similarly impoverished young boy with the same big dream. He trusted this self-possessed young woman had what it took to achieve her goal.
“You learning a lot from the Doctors McGregor?”
“So much,” she enthused, and his smile widened. “Are you here to see Dr. Daisy?”
“I am, but I have a couple of questions for you first if you don’t mind and if you can spare the time?” He cast a look at the long line.
“A little time. I won’t process the next patient until after one of the doctors finishes with their current patient.”
“How . . .” He wasn’t sure how to delicately phrase it. After all, she lived here, and he didn’t want to offend her. “I was a little worried about Daisy when I heard about this clinic.”
“You want to know if it’s safe?” She was a straightforward young woman; he liked that about her.
“Yeah.”
“It’s safe here,” she emphasized. “But I worry about them when they drive home. My brother has a taxi, and he sometimes follows them to the main road just to be sure they get there safely, but he’s not always available. Most people here don’t have cars, and while they would like to do something similar, they can’t. There’s a lot of expensive medical equipment in this clinic. And some people might think that it’s easy money to be made.” Which just confirmed his worst fear.
“Thanks, Thandiwe,” he said. “Do you think Dr. Daisy will have time for a quick hello?”
“I think we can squeeze you in between the mangy cat and the chicken with the club foot.” She grinned, and he felt his lips stretch into an answering smile.
“Much appreciated.”
Daisy waved Mrs. Matabane and her sick cat off with a smile. Yet another case of mange; sadly it was prevalent in the township, too much dust. But luckily, Isaac, the battle-scarred tomcat, didn’t have a bad case and looked to be on the mend. He needed to be neutered, and she had begged Mrs. Matabane to consider it, explaining that it would cut down on his wandering and fighting as well. The elderly lady had promised to think about it. The mangy animal reminded her of young Thomas and his dog, Sheba, and she wondered if she’d be seeing the friendly child today. He hadn’t dropped by on Wednesday, and she hoped he’d come around today.
She looked up with a friendly smile as the next person entered the mobile clinic and had a moment’s confusion as she stared at the tall, broad figure silhouetted in the doorway.
“Mason,” her father called, his voice warm and welcoming. “What brings you by?”
“Just thought I’d have a look at the clinic; I’ve been thinking of making a donation and wanted to see it for myself first.” Mason’s voice was equally jovial, and Daisy’s eyes narrowed. This was the first she’d heard of a donation—not that it wouldn’t be welcome and appreciated—and it was just a little suspicious for him to suddenly show up. What were his real motivations?