He went over to where two or three other men were standing, cameras at the ready. Arranged on the retaining wall of a flowerbed, a Canon printer was attached to a car battery.

‘So what’s your name?’ Kagiso asked.

‘My name is Mlungezi Moyo,’ the man said, connecting a cable from the camera to the printer.

‘So you are from Zimbabwe.’

‘Yes, sir,’ the man said.

Kagiso noticed a certain reticence in his voice.

‘Have you been affected by this trouble?’ Lindi asked.

‘No, madam. This time they were only looking for the Mozambicans.’ He pressed the power button on the printer. ‘Next time they will be after us. That’s how it is with these South Africans.’

He looked anxiously at Kagiso, as if he were expecting a rebuke.

‘Well, you are doing a good job,’ Kagiso said, by way of reassurance. ‘Our people could learn some lessons from guys like you.’

‘Oh, what a beautiful picture!’ The photographer let it drop into his open hand. He blew on it and handed it to Lindi. ‘This one is a good man, madam. Not like the other South Africans, hot one day, cold the next.’

Lindi counted twenty rand and then, as an afterthought, added another ten. ‘I can’t wait to show Mum and Dad,’ she said, as they walked out of the park.

By the time they got back the driver had already returned with a couple of buns and tea for Khethiwe.

‘Sorry, we got distracted,’ Lindi said, sensing Khethiwe’s irritation.

‘Well, it is time to move,’ Khethiwe said. ‘This driver is not from here so we must leave some extra time.’

Suddenly the joi de vivre dissipated. Lindi felt her stomach clench. But it wasn’t the old fear of failure that flooded in, ready to ambush her. She realised, with a clarity that had been absent till now, just how much was at stake.

‘What will you do?’ she asked Kagiso.

‘Exactly as we discussed,’ he said.

‘No, I mean if she’s not there … if it goes wrong.’ She hadn’t dared to ask the question before.

‘It’s not going to go wrong.’

Khethiwe was getting into the car. Lindi reached up and embraced Kagiso.

‘See you later,’ she said.

They’d parked the van outside Francis Xavier Church, just Lindi and the driver. Ma Khethiwe had gone straight into the church and the plan was for her to make sure that Priscilla Motlantshe had arrived and that she was alone. If she was satisfied that it was safe, Ma Khethiwe would come out, look into her handbag briefly, then go back inside the church. An hour had passed and still nothing.