It’s the social worker from the last orphanage she went to in her quest to find Mandla. Zodwa’s first instinct is terror that the woman will recognize her and expose her as Mandla’s mother. But then, when the social worker’s own expression becomes fearful, their conversation from that day comes back to Zodwa, unspooling like thread in her mind.

And that’s where you still live? In a shack?

What’s your health like?

My health?

Sorry, it’s an occupational hazard. I noticed you have a cough and just wanted to make sure you’re taking care of it.

It’s just a cold. It’s almost gone.

Good. Maybe get some Borstol for it.

I will.

Can you check your files to see if there are any possible matches?

I don’t need to. I know all the children here and none of them fits the description.

The social worker hadn’t been able to meet Zodwa’s eyes that day when she’d handed Dumisa’s baby photo back. It had bothered Zodwa then, how fixated she’d been on the picture at first, and then how quickly that intense focus had turned to dismissal.

And then she realizes the truth: The social worker lied to her. Before Zodwa can stop herself, she blurts out, “You knew!”

CHAPTER EIGHTY-FIVE

Ruth

17 July 1996

Verdriet, Magaliesburg, South Africa

The strawberry jam has left a stain on Mandla’s suit lapel but there’s nothing to be done for it. I’m just considering whether I should try to pick a flower from the garden to pin over it when I hear Zodwa’s raised voice from the lounge.

“You knew!”

Lindiwe’s voice is raised in response. “What are you doing here?”

I carry Mandla from the bathroom to find the two of them squaring off against each other at the front door.

“You recognized him but you lied to me,” Zodwa says, clenching her fists like she’s trying to stop herself from hitting someone.

“Whoa!” Dee says, rushing to the door from the kitchen. “What’s the problem? Is everything okay?”

“What is she doing here?” Lindiwe asks Dee. She looks panicked.

“That’s Zodwa, our maid that I told you about,” I reply on Dee’s behalf. “What on earth is going on here?”

Zodwa speaks to Lindiwe as though the rest of us aren’t here. “Why did you lie to me?”

“I didn’t lie,” Lindiwe says but she looks shifty as all hell. “He wasn’t there when you came. He’d left the day before.”

“But you knew who he was! You knew! And you didn’t tell me.”

“Only because I knew you were sick, sisi!”

There’s suddenly a deathly hush as the two women glare at each other, each breathing heavily with barely contained emotion, but neither speaking.