“I don’t need to know about the priest,” Riaan said, his jaw jutting out. “We don’t need to get into all that. The past is the past. I don’t know why you came back or why you’ve been so sad, but I want to change that. I want to make you happy and I think I can if you just give me the chance.”

“The past isn’t the past for me.”

“Okay, but is it big enough that you’ll let it stand between us now?”

“I’m trying to work through it. And I need you to know everything so that you can then make a decision having all the information. Will you grant me that? Will you listen?”

He nodded and so I began to speak, telling him everything and sparing no details.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO

Ruth

13 October 1995

Lancet Laboratories, Sandton, South Africa

No, Mama. No.” Mandla’s eyes are wide with terror and I want to cry seeing him in such distress.

“It’s okay, baby. It’s okay. Mama’s here. Just one prick and then it’s over. Please sit still, my boy, please.”

As we sit on the bed, Mandla wriggles out of my grip and the blond technician frowns at me. “You need to keep him still, Mrs. Richardson.”

“I’m trying but he’s scared, which is completely understandable.”

“I can’t take the specimen if he can’t keep still.”

Mandla squirms violently as the technician comes at him with the needle again. “No, Mama. No.”

“Okay,” the technician says. “You’re going to have to step outside and I’ll call someone in to help.”

“But—”

“We need this blood and we’re going to hurt him if he doesn’t keep still. Besides which, his HIV-positive status poses a threat to us and a needle-stick injury is the last thing any of us needs.” She calls to a colleague who comes bustling in to see what the fuss is about. They make me stand up and move back so that the colleague can sit next to Mandla. I try to skirt them to hold Mandla’s hand.

“Ma’am, this will be much easier without you here. If you could just step aside for a minute.”

I leave, feeling like I’m failing as a mother on all fronts as Zodwa’s words from two days ago come back to me.

I’m someone who believes he deserves better than a drunkard for a mother. And I’m someone who will report you to social services if you ever, ever get into a state like that again when you’re supposed to be looking after him. Do you understand me?