From where they were, under a lone jacaranda tree, its dry, brittle branches giving little inkling of the nascent purple bloom it was incubating, Lindi could see both sides of the church and the front entrance. Nobody had walked in or out while they had been there. A gardener made some speculative jabs at one of the flowerbeds before abandoning the task and heading back into a shed on the edge of the compound.

Lindi looked out of the window and checked the wing mirrors. Nothing. It was now just a few minutes before midday. She began to give up hope and wondered how she would break the news to Kagiso. She shut her eyes, steeling herself for the task.

Lindi felt the driver touch her arm. She looked up to see Ma Khethiwe on the steps of the church. She looked into her bag and walked back in. Surely there was some mistake. She asked the driver. He, too, was sure no one had been in or out. Perhaps there was a back entrance. They’d driven round the compound when they’d arrived earlier that morning and noticed some outbuildings, what looked like the priest’s accommodation, but there had been no sign of a gate on that side.

She had to trust Ma Khethiwe. Lindi got out of the van, walked across the compound and into the church.

Ma Khethiwe was standing near the altar, talking to a priest, a white man who looked to be in his seventies, perhaps older.

‘Is she here?’

‘Good day, young lady. I am Father Vincent de Kok. I used to be the parish priest here many, many years ago but now it’s my retirement home.’

‘I’m so sorry, it’s just … I was expecting to see someone else.’

‘It’s okay, it’s here,’ Khethiwe said.

‘What do you mean? Where’s Mrs Motlantshe?’

‘She’s not here, but she gave me something for you,’ Father Vincent said. ‘I have known Priscilla for a long time.’ The priest made the sign of the cross and began to walk, surprisingly briskly, to the side of the altar.

‘Our church was one of the few that had a mixed congregation and the Motlantshes used to worship here. Well, I think Josiah just came along for the ride.’ He turned to Lindi with a knowing twinkle in his eyes. ‘She called me yesterday and asked me to visit her.’

‘Is there a reason she hasn’t come herself?’ Lindi asked.

‘Well, yes. There’s a police car outside her house. Such a fine property. I’ve often wondered how young Josiah made all that money.’ Again the wry smile. ‘Priscilla says they are keeping an eye on the place, for her own protection, of course. But nobody cares about an ageing priest.’