The call is harder to make than I thought it would be. I work my way through two cigarettes and another glass of wine before I’m able to dial the number.

He answers on the third ring. “Hello?” There’s music and laughter in the background and the unexpected sound of it makes it hard to speak. “Hello?” he repeats.

“Vince, it’s me.”

He’s having a party but then why shouldn’t he? It’s the festive season and he’s rid of me. What’s not to celebrate?

“Ruth?”

I think back to the previous Christmas, our last one together though I didn’t know that at the time. We’d turned down all the usual invitations and spent Christmas Day alone together, eating gourmet toasted cheese sandwiches in bed, to hell with the crumbs. It was a damn good day.

“I can hear it isn’t a good time for you,” I say. “I’ll call back.”

“No, it’s fine.” He must have the portable phone because the noise starts to fade and then it’s quiet. He’s probably closed himself in the bedroom. “Is everything okay?”

No, it’s not. You’re having a party without me because you’ve moved on. I’m fostering a child who’s going to die soon. We’re under attack in our home. I miss you.

I can’t help but wonder who’s there. You can bet your tits that Moira Castleman has been sniffing around Vince. Bitch.

“Ruth?”

“What?”

“I asked if everything’s okay?”

“Yes, it’s fine. It’s all fine. Couldn’t be better, actually.”

“I’m glad.”

We lapse into silence and I swear I can hear bloody Moira’s hyena laugh in the background. I wish suddenly that I hadn’t shipped the framed magazine cover to myself here. Knowing it was there for her to look at would make me feel a lot better.

“Not that I don’t like hearing from you, Ruthie, I do, but is there a reason why you called?”

Shit. Here goes nothing.

I take a deep breath and swallow my pride. And then I ask Vince for quite a substantial loan.

CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

Delilah

28 January 1995

Verdriet, Magaliesburg, South Africa

Are you sure you won’t come with me?” Ruth asked, looking so desperate for me to change my mind that I had to look away from her reflection in the bathroom mirror. “I know you don’t approve, but that doesn’t mean you can’t join me and be disapproving there.”

“You know how I feel about this. I think you’re making a mistake,” I said.

She rolled a curler into her hair, talking past a bobby pin in her mouth. “You said it wasn’t safe to bring him home and so I fixed that. I made it safe!”