The Missing Queen of the Scrapyard

Tariq arrived at the scrapyard at nine on Saturday morning with a wooden box under his arm.

The gate was open, and a dog was waiting just inside. He was big and shaggy and yellow-brown, with one ear that stood up and one that did not. He looked at Tariq, looked at the box, and walked in a happy circle around his legs.

"He likes you," a voice said from above.

Tariq looked up. A woman was sitting on top of a washing machine with a mug in one hand. She wore thick gloves and a pair of safety glasses pushed up into her hair. "That's the dog's job," she said. "He decides who gets in. You passed."

"I'm looking for Thandi," Tariq said.

"That's me." She climbed down. "You're the chess teacher who phoned yesterday."

"That's right." He opened the box and showed her the board. It was an old wooden set, worn smooth at the edges. Thirty-one pieces sat in neat rows on soft green felt. The place for the white queen was empty. "I bought this set from your yard last year. It came in a box with other things. I teach chess to children at the community centre. We have a small tournament tomorrow, and the white queen is missing."

Thandi frowned. "Is the queen an important piece?"

"She's the strongest piece on the board. Without her, I'd have to use a button. The children would laugh, and then they would play badly."

Thandi pulled off one glove and scratched her chin. "We don't keep a list of what was in each box. But I remember where that lot came from. A flat clearance. Those boxes went into the shed by the crane."

"Then maybe the queen is still in the shed."

"Maybe. It's worth an hour. Come on."

The shed was a long tin building at the back of the yard. Inside, it smelled of oil and old paper. Shelves ran from the floor to the roof, and every shelf was full. Tariq saw broken lamps, jars of screws and a row of old radios.

"The flat boxes are in the corner," Thandi said. "Start at the top. I'll take the bottom."

They searched for forty minutes. Tariq opened every box and shook out every sock and every coil of wire. He found two forks, a very small violin and a plastic pawn that belonged to no set. The dog lay in the doorway and watched. He had the patient face of an animal who knew how long people usually take.

At ten o'clock, Thandi sat back on her heels. "I'm sorry," she said. "It isn't here. I looked in every box."

Tariq sat down on an upturned bucket. His shoulders dropped. "The tournament is tomorrow at two. I can't buy a new set in a day. The shop in town only sells plastic ones."

"What size is the queen?"

"About nine centimetres tall. She has a wide round base and a narrow neck. On top, there's a little crown with five points."

Thandi stared at him for a moment. Then she stood up, brushed the dust from her knees and said, "Wait here."

She walked out of the shed. Tariq heard her moving things around outside. A few minutes later, she came back with her hands full. She had a brass curtain finial, a heavy washer, a short rod and a tin of cream paint.

"What are those for?" he asked.

"For a queen." She placed everything on a workbench. "I can't find the old one, so I'll make you a new one. It won't be perfect, but it will be a queen."

Tariq blinked. "You can do that?"

"I've welded a bicycle into a chair. I've made a clock from a bicycle wheel. A chess queen is not harder than a clock." She put on her safety glasses and took a small file from a drawer. "Hold the base steady, please."

They worked together. Thandi cut the rod to the right height and filed the end until it fit inside the finial. She rubbed the washer on a stone until it was smooth. Then she cut five tiny points around its edge. Tariq held each part while she worked.

"This is your crown," Thandi said. She fixed the washer on top with a drop of strong glue. "She looks like a queen who has seen a few things."

"She looks perfect," Tariq said, and he meant it. "But she is metal. All my other white pieces are wood. The children will notice at once."

"Then we make her look the same." She picked up the paint. "The tin says cream. Your pieces look cream too, only more tired."

She mixed a little brown paint into the cream, one drop at a time. After each drop, she tried it on a scrap of wood. Tariq held the scrap next to his white king. The colours were almost the same. Thandi added one last drop, and now the two shades matched.

She painted the queen in thin, careful layers. Between layers, she carried the piece into the sun to dry. Tariq stood beside her and told her stories about the children in his club. There was a girl who had never lost a game. There was a very small boy who hid his captured pieces in his pockets.

"Do they ever give them back?" Thandi asked.

"Always. Eventually."

The last layer dried at noon. Thandi turned the queen in the light and checked every side. She smoothed a small bubble of paint with her thumbnail. Then she handed the piece to Tariq.

He set it on the empty square. It stood a little taller than the other pieces, and its neck was thicker. But the cream colour matched, and the crown caught the light. Beside the white king, it looked as if it had always been there.

"Well?" Thandi said.

Tariq weighed the piece in his hand. It was heavier than the others. "She will knock over the board if a child grabs her too fast," he said.

"Good. A queen should be dangerous."

He laughed, and the sound surprised him. He had not laughed since Friday night. "How much do I owe you?"

"Nothing. The parts were all scrap." She wiped her hands on a rag. "But I have one condition. I want to see her in a real game."

"You could come tomorrow. The tournament starts at two."

"I can't. The yard is open on Sundays, and the dog gets lonely." She looked down. The dog lifted his head and gave her a look of great innocence. "But you could teach me a little now. I only know how the horse moves."

"The knight," Tariq said.

"The horse," Thandi repeated firmly.

They carried a flat crate out into the sun and set the board on top. Tariq arranged the pieces and put the new queen on her square. He showed Thandi how the pawns advance one step at a time. He showed her how the rooks guard the corners. She listened with her chin in her hand and asked sharp questions.

After twenty minutes, they played a short game. Thandi lost her queen on the ninth move, and she did not seem to mind. The dog walked once around the crate. Then he lay down again with his chin on her boot.

Tariq looked at the board for a long moment. Then he looked at the new queen, standing proud and slightly too tall among the white pieces.

"Thandi," he said, "when the children ask where she came from, should I tell them the truth?"