Vince runs his hands through his hair. “My therapist said you’d do this. Become manipulative and direct blame at me to try and move it away from yourself.” His eyes leave my face, alighting on one object and then another as he avoids catching my gaze.

“Your therapist? You’re seeing a therapist?” I can’t help it, I laugh.

“Therapy has helped me with a lot of my issues and I think seeing a professional will help you too. There’s so much from your past that you’ve never worked through—”

“What’s that got to do with any of this?”

“I think that’s why you drink, Ruth. To drown your feelings about all that, and perhaps if you spoke about it—”

“Then what?” I snort. “I’d magically go back in time and everything would work out? Please, it’s ancient history and no good can come from wallowing in it. And you don’t need a reason to drink beyond having a raging thirst.”

The phone next to the bed suddenly trills and I dive to pick it up, desperate for a distraction. The man’s voice on the other end is excited, and I listen with growing relief as he imparts his news.

When I replace the receiver, Vince carries on as though the conversation hadn’t been interrupted. “Please consider it. I mean, you have the time—”

“I’m afraid that’s where you’re wrong,” I say with grim satisfaction.

The call from the estate agent couldn’t have come at a better time. I’ve been trying to sell my childhood home for the past few years but until now there haven’t been any takers. The property was left to me when Ma died, and though I never lived on it again after eloping on my twenty-first birthday, I couldn’t bear to part with it for sentimental reasons. Thirty years after Ma’s death, those reasons aren’t as clear as they once were. Also, it’s amazing how sentimentality goes out the window when misfortune knocks at the door.

The universe has come through for me without a moment left to spare; I have my sign and know exactly where I need to be.

CHAPTER TEN

Zodwa

27 April 1994

Magaliesburg, Transvaal, South Africa

Dawn announces itself with a blush on the horizon just as Zodwa reaches the high school’s perimeter. She’s tried not to think too much about all that she’s missing out on beyond those gates but being at the threshold brings it all back: the classes at which she excelled; the friends who admired her and the teachers who were proud of her; the inconsequential chatter about boys and fashion amid the serious political discussions and heated debates.