‘I’m here now, in the dirty south, you see what I’m willing to put myself through for you?’ He smiles to himself, knowing her request is empty, that’s there’s no way she would get out of his car to find a bus. ‘Plus,’ he says, ‘I want to see your place.’

‘That wasn’t part of the deal.’

‘So, what is?’

Chapter Fifteen

Mandazi

October 2020

Kiama

The next morning Kiama sits out in the yard with the girls. He watches Delia stick on her fake eyelashes and wonders what time to wake Yvonne up.

The gate clanks open and they all turn towards it.

‘Purity?’ Kiama shouts.

She jumps slightly, caught off guard, then her face widens into her huge smile. ‘He is here,’ she sings. ‘He’s here, he’s here.’

He crosses the yard to hug her. She barely comes up to his shoulder, he’s not sure he remembered this about her but of course, he’s so much bigger now. Her grey hair is plaited and wrapped around her head like a crown.

She pulls back and studies his face. ‘So big. So big.’

‘We drove hours to see you yesterday.’

She throws up her arms and claps. ‘Girls, did he tell you how I used to watch over him when he was a boy? A small, small boy, but what is this?’ She picks at a tuft of Kiama’s hair. ‘You look like a lion.’

‘Oh, er—’ he pushes it down but it only springs back up. ‘I’m growing it out.’

‘And where is Yvonne? She is sleeping, yes?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Air travel. It’s no good for women, makes us tired. Let her sleep, Ki-Yama,’ she says, and it makes him smile to hear her very particular way of saying his name. It used to bug him as a kid, but maybe she’s actually saying it correctly and everyone else, including his family, have always said it wrong.

She takes his hand and leads him into the house. The girls follow.

‘How’s Toby?’ Alice asks. ‘Is it really malaria? So awful.’

Purity makes a tsk sound and grabs an egg from the spread of breakfast on the table. ‘He is well. His parents are travelling here now to pamper him. I told them, please do not come, your boy is fine, just a little diarrhoea, but do they listen? No, they are behaving as if the boy is dying.’ She leans in towards Kiama. ‘It’s like looking at your mother,’ she says.

‘Really?’ he breaks away, her gaze too intense.

‘Your eyes. You have your mother’s eyes.’

But he knows he doesn’t, it’s just one of those things people are always saying because they think it makes him feel better.