This time it’s her phone which distracts them, vibrating from underneath the cushion. ‘Sorry.’ She fumbles to silence it, but catches the flash of Emma on the screen.

‘Whoa,’ Lewis says. ‘Your face. I said the wrong thing? I’m usually accused of moving too slowly but I think I just went way too fast?’ He laughs nervously.

‘No. No. It’s not that.’ She can’t drop the name here, in this moment, in the middle of this conversation. ‘Forget about it. No more phones. Both of us.’

He nods. ‘Yeah, okay.’ But he won’t look at her. He grabs her by the hips and lifts her off. ‘I’m going to run you that bath, okay?’

All she can do is nod and watch as he walks away.

Yvonne’s phone beeps with a message, she picks it up.

Happy Birthday to the baddest bitch I know. Kiama wants to know if you got his card?

She texts back. Yes & I loved it. x Thanks x.

She should switch the phone off now, but before she can even complete the thought, another message comes through.

Meet when you’re back? I have news!

Followed by, Shit just got real.

Chapter Twenty

Elephants

October 2020

Kiama

The next morning Delia stomps ahead, while Kiama drags behind. She hasn’t said a word to him since they left the guest house, but then, why would she? He didn’t mean to be so honest with her, but it was a big mistake sleeping with her and he wasn’t interested in anything else happening.

The gate at the volunteer house is already open, a line of damp washing hung up, anticipating a sunny day. Delia takes off her shoes then throws them one at a time onto the dusty pile by the door. ‘I’m going to try and disinfect my skin so I don’t get that shit,’ she says pointing to the ringworm on Kiama’s neck. All he can do is nod. Shit. He feels bad about this on top of feeling bad about everything else that happened yesterday.

‘Ki-Yama?’ Purity calls from inside.

He takes a breath and sits down on the ledge, not yet ready to go in and face another pissed-off woman.

Purity comes out and stands in the doorway, her long skirt hitched up at the knees, revealing ashy legs.

‘Habari Gani,’ he says. He pulls off his trainers and stands slowly in front of her.

She picks a small twig from his hair, ‘Where did you sleep last night? In the bush?’

‘The guest house.’

‘The guest house?’ Purity crosses her chest. ‘Do you know prostitutes use those beds? Those sheets? It is not good.’ She makes a tsk sound and waves him inside, ‘Go, shower, you smell.’