It was a pleasant enough evening, all the more so given the culinary efforts of a dutiful wife for whom providing a family meal was a defining role. Lindi felt a sense of solidarity with the woman, a need to make a show of her appreciation, something, she sensed, which was lacking in the Patel household. She asked for recipes she knew she would never try out and Aardashini obliged with enthusiasm and in painstaking detail. But all the while Lindi had her eye on the clock and her mind on the job. There came a point when she could no longer keep up the charade of ardent interest in the finer points of Indian cuisine.

‘I wonder what’s keeping Father Petro,’ she said, affecting as nonchalant a manner as she could muster.

‘Let’s see, what’s the time?’ replied Patel. ‘Oh, yes, nine forty-five. Father Petro never stops but it is late even for him. Let me call him.’ There was no answer. He gave it another fifteen minutes before trying again. It went straight to voicemail. Lindi felt the need to take charge before there were any questions about exactly what he could be doing.

‘Listen, he did say to me that he was tired, and if it got too late he would just see me in the morning. I’m really sorry, but could you give me another lift?’

‘Of course, no problem at all. We could go by the church and see what he’s up to. It’s only a little bit out of the way.’

‘No need for that. To be honest, I’m shattered. I was up at five this morning. I just need my bed.’

When they pulled up outside the Mirabel Guesthouse, Patel came round to Lindi’s side of the car.

‘Look, what we were talking about before in the car, you know, about the corruption and so on. Please understand, I care about this country. I do what I can, but if you don’t play the game their way you’re finished. End of story.’

‘I understand. I’m sorry if I sounded like I was judging you.’

‘Good night, Ms Seaton.’ Patel got back into his car. ‘And you be careful. This is not a game they’re playing here.’

Lindi woke up with a start. Her phone was ringing. She grabbed at it but dropped it on the floor. It landed screen side up. Two thirty in the morning.

She picked it up and pressed the green button. She recognised Patel’s voice straight away.

‘Ms Seaton, I am afraid I have some bad news. Father Petro has been in a car crash. It’s bad, very bad.’

16

Kagiso arrived in Nelspruit at 4 a.m., having taken the overnight train from Johannesburg. He was glad he’d spent the previous day, the day of Lesedi’s funeral, with his mother.