“No, of course not,” he stammered.

“Ah, so then you might well be married after all?”

He flushed. “No, I never married.”

For some reason, the admission made me sad and I was suddenly sorry that I’d carried the joshing too far.

Riaan gazed intently at his nails before looking up again. “I’m just asking you as a friend, nothing else.”

“Okay. Yes, I’d like that,” I said, and found, to my surprise, that I meant it.

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

Ruth

28 January–4 February 1995

New Beginnings Baby Sanctuary, Rustenburg, South Africa, and Verdriet, Magaliesburg, South Africa

This is it,” I say, not quite sure if I’m more likely to throw up or burst into song.

“Yes,” Lindiwe says. “Are you ready?”

“Not even close.”

I wish Dee were here. Doing this together would be so much less scary than doing it alone. She can’t go back in time and save her son, but we can save this child who needs us.

I follow Lindiwe down the corridor and into what looks like a classroom, and my first thought is that we’ve walked in on a birthday party and are in the wrong place. Toddlers, babies, and care workers stand around tables draped in green tablecloths and covered with cupcakes, sandwiches, sweets, and cold drinks. They all wear festive party hats and start cheering when we enter, which is when I see the huge cake at the center of the table.

Happy Foster Day Mandla! is written across it in blue icing.

A care worker crosses the room with my boy. He has his arms draped around her ample neck and is beaming at her. She’s wearing latex gloves and gives me a pair to put on before she hands him across. Mandla, once in my arms, immediately tries to pull away.

He stretches his arms out toward the woman, calling for her in baby speak. She doesn’t turn to take him back, she just keeps on walking. The parting is clearly as painful for her as it is for Mandla because she wipes at her face as he bursts into heartbroken sobs.

“Not off to the best start, are we?” I ask Lindiwe.

“Don’t worry,” she says. “The doctor who comes is a white lady and she looks a bit like you. She was here earlier to look him over and he didn’t like it. He’s worried you’re going to hurt him.”

“He and I both,” I mutter. “He and I both.”

•   •   •

A week passes in a sleepless blur.

It feels like an accomplishment when, in the early hours of one morning, I get Mandla to settle facedown on my chest, his head turned awkwardly to the side to accommodate two fingers in his mouth. I’ve heard of thumb sucking before, but he’s taken it to a whole new level by sucking on his middle and index fingers simultaneously.