Lindiwe smiles at me from the front of the room where she stands next to a table of auction items. They’ve raised a fortune so far and all the money is going toward expanding the HIV ward, now that it needs to house far more than just two babies. I smile back at her and motion that I’ll talk to her later.

There’s a pay phone near the men’s room. I don’t have enough change in my purse and am just about to head back inside to ask Dee if she has any, when I find a lucky coin in the return slot of the call box. After dialing the number, I’m relieved to hear the phone ringing on the other side.

It’s probably going to wake Mandla and I’m sorry about that, but hopefully Zodwa will answer quickly enough not to disturb him. After seven rings, the call cuts out. Relief sours to worry.

Maybe she’s fallen asleep on the couch. Maybe she’s in the bathroom. Maybe I dialed a wrong number.

The coins tumble out into the return slot and my fingers tremble as I feed them back in. I’m careful this time, dialing more slowly, and I hold my breath when the phone starts ringing again.

Dee rounds the corner just then, looking exasperated when she spots me. I hold up a hand to silence her.

Come on, Zodwa. Pick up.

And then the ringing stops as the phone is answered. “Hello? Zodwa?”

There’s no reply. It sounds like static in the background.

“What is it?” Dee asks, beckoned over by the expression of concern on my face.

“It first just rang and now it sounds like it’s been answered but no one is there.”

“Probably just the lines acting up.”

“But then how can Zodwa call if something’s wrong? I think we should leave.”

Dee takes the phone from my hand and puts it back in the cradle. “Riaan has made a bid on a quad bike. Can we wait half an hour to see if he’s successful and then we can go?”

I sigh. “Okay, but just half an hour.”

CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT

Zodwa

6 January 1996

Verdriet, Magaliesburg, South Africa

The handle turns as the door rattles and it sets Jezebel off barking again. Before Zodwa can put her hand over Mandla’s mouth, he starts crying.

“The kaffirtjie is in there!”

“The door’s locked. She must be in there with him.”

“Hey, bitch,” one of them calls. “We know you’re in there. Open the door.”

They begin banging at the door and Zodwa cries out in desperation. “Madam Ruth isn’t home. It’s just me here looking after the baby.”

There’s silence for a moment.

“Who are you?”

“I’m just the maid, baas.” The word curdles in Zodwa’s mouth but she hopes that being deferential will help defuse their anger.