‘Christ!’ Silas said, clinging to the sides of the seat.

They were travelling slowly now, ahead of them a serene, if rather contrived, view of trees and manicured lawns, and, in the distance, the restaurant nestling in the cool lee of a koppie. Hundreds of birds kept up a prolonged but not unpleasant chatter.

‘You wanted to ask me something?’ Kate said.

‘No, not important.’

‘Well, any time you want to ask, anything, I'm here.’

‘What are your plans for next year?’

‘Next year? I haven't even begun thinking that far ahead. I'm still in post-struggle, get-it-done mode.’

‘Good God, what does all that mean?’

‘I don't know, Silas. You wanted to know what I'm going to do when the Old Man retires?’

‘Yes.’

‘You don't think the new President will have a place for me?’

‘No. He has his own team, his own legal adviser, certainly his own intelligence adviser.’

‘All black, all returned exiles?’

‘That's too simplistic.’

‘Well, that's what people are whispering.’

He did not answer.

She was glad of the diversion, the good grace with which he had withdrawn the question he had been about to ask. Was it about her and Mikey? He had retreated from an inevitable interrogation, the aftermath of which could not be foretold. Some day, the subject would have to be broached – but not today, not this perfect, cloudless day, this hour of pleasant promise, of chilled white wine and laughter, of light, inconsequential banter between old friends. The weighty problem of morality, the deviancy of an older woman having fucked the young son of a friend, would have to wait.

When the time came, she would have to convince him that it had been random, that she had not chosen Mikey because he was Silas's son. She had convinced herself, and that had been difficult enough. All her life, she had been taught to face problems, get them behind her and out of the way, never to leave matters unresolved, especially something as personal as a sexual relationship. Now she hoped that dealing with this ‘loose end’ could be postponed for a long time, until today's sensational revelation would have become yesterday's mildly shocking gossip. She hoped she would never have to discuss the issue with Silas, certainly not alone. She had never realized before how difficult it was to tell the truth, to confess, to say, ‘I have…’

But her fate, her reputation, her relationships with her daughter Ferial, with her lover Janine, with Silas and Julian, all these good people, these fucking good people, depended on Mikey. She was his loose end, his discarded little ‘bit on the side’ . What a fall from grace, having to pursue a mere boy, waiting for him at the gates of the university, seeing him stop dead in his tracks, then retreat, disappearing into the crowd with such an obvious, evasive swerve of his body!