Chapter 3 Shadows And Shelter

She spent the first day wandering the city, searching for work.

Every store window became a beacon of hope. She entered a clothing boutique and asked the cashier if they were hiring. The woman barely looked at her.

"No positions. Sorry."

At a café, she was told to leave her CV. She didn't have one.

A supermarket security guard shook his head before she even finished speaking.

"You need papers, girl. Something official."

Victoria tried not to let the rejection show. Her back ached from walking, and the pit in her stomach had grown deeper than hunger. Still, she pressed on. She was walking around with her suitcase.

As the sun began to set, Victoria realized she had no place to go. She'd bought a small meal from a vendor, vetkoek and mince and spend R20.

She passed a small, gated church as the light faded. The doors were closed, but the gate wasn't locked. Desperate, she slipped into the grounds and found a quiet bench beneath a jacaranda tree.

She sat down, arms wrapped around herself.

It was colder now. The night crept in with whispering winds. She lay on her side, her bag clutched to her chest and tried not to cry.

The first challenge came on her third night.

She had returned to the church again, hoping for rest beneath the wide trees and dim security lights. But this time, she wasn't alone.

A man was already there, lurking behind the fence. He looked rough, greasy hair, old jacket, a swagger that chilled her. He walked over slowly, eyeing her with something more than curiosity .

"Hey, girl. You from here?"

She didn't answer.

"You look lonely," he said, stepping closer.

Victoria stood "I don't want any trouble."

He chuckled "No trouble, baby. I can take care of you. Just give me a little something, and I'll make it worth your while."

He reached for her wrist.

She yanked it back, heart slamming against her ribs. "Leave me alone!"

His smile faded. "Don't be stupid."

She turned and ran across the churchyard, out the gate, into the dark street. With her suitcase in her hand. Her feet hit the pavement hard. She didn't look back until she was several blocks away.

Only then did she collapse behind a trash bin, gasping for air, her body trembling.

She could have been raped. Alone, helpless and voiceless.

It was the first time the weight of danger became real.

Victoria didn't return to the church that night. Instead, she kept moving, staying where there were lights, where she could be seen. She found a petrol station and huddled near the corner, pretending to be waiting for someone. The attendant ignored her.

When the sky turned pale grey, she went back to the church. The groundskeeper, an old man with a kind but weathered face, was sweeping leaves. He looked at her, then at her suitcase, then back at her.

"You've been sleeping here?"

She nodded slowly, unsure what to expect.

He sighed and leaned on his broom. "You can't keep doing this, child. It's not safe. This town... it'll eat you if you are not careful."

"I have nowhere else," she whispered.

He studied her for a long moment. "Go inside. Ask to speak to sister Margaret. She might help."

The church office smelled of lemon polish and old hymn books. Sister Margaret was a tall, stern woman with wire-frame glasses and eyes that saw too much.

Victoria sat before her, hands folded tightly.

"I ran away," she explained. "From Pretoria. My parents... they wanted me to marry a man I didn't choose. I'm pregnant. I need work. A place to sleep. Anything."

Sister Margaret didn't speak for a long time.

Finally, she said, " You can stay here for a while. One the condition that you look for a job. Every day. You can sleep in the spare room behind the Sunday school."

Tears sprang to Victoria's eyes. "Thank you."

"But I won't tolerate dishonesty. If you lie to me, if you bring trouble to my church, i will put you back on the street."

"I understand."

"You'II clean, help around the grounds, and keep to the rules. This is not a shelter. It's God's house."

Victoria nodded gratefully, "Yes, ma'am."

For first time in three days, she slept indoors. The spare room was small, bare mattress, concrete floor but it was warm, and it was hers.

The next morning, she was up before the sun. She washed the church steps, swept the courtyard, helped sister Margaret fold bulletins. Then, she left to look for work again.

This time, she brought a new determination.

-

By the fifth day, she found a sign tapped to a window of a restaurant tucked on a side street:

"Help wanted, Dishwasher/ General Assistant. Inquire within."

She stepped inside.

The owner, a gruff man named Pieter sized her up with suspicion. "You have experience?"

"No", she admitted. "But I learn fast. I can work hard. Please I really need this job."

He rubbed his beard. " It's not pretty work. Long hours. Low pay."

"I don't mind."

He sighed. " R1,500 a week. Start tomorrow morning. Don't be late."

She nearly cried. "Thank you!"

-

That night, she returned to the church with a heart full of something new:hope.

She would scrub dishes. She would save every rand. She would find a small room to rent, even if it was barely more than a bed and sink.

She would raise her baby with dignity.

But as she lay down, her hand resting gently on her belly, a quiet truth rose in her chest:

This wasn't over.

There would be more danger.

More hardship.

But she wasn't the same scared girl who had ran away in the night.

She was Victoria.

She had made it this far.

And she wasn't turning back.