Father Vincent placed his hands on their heads. He shut his eyes. ‘Dear Lord, bless these your children. Give them the courage and wisdom to see through their mission, to bring justice where there is none and hope to those who long for it. In your infinite capacity to forgive, have pity on those whose sins may be exposed this day. And stay close to your daughter, Priscilla, for she needs your divine comfort more than ever before. We ask this through the blessed intercession of our Holy Mother, the Virgin Mary. God bless you, Khethiwe, and God bless you, Lindi. In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit.’

It was the first time since she’d met him that Father Vincent had used her name.

‘Go in peace, to love and serve the Lord.’ He opened his eyes, smiling. ‘Let me show you out,’ he said, and headed back towards the church. ‘I hear you were with Father Petro.’

It was as if the priest had thrown a grenade at Lindi. She stopped in her tracks. ‘You knew him?’

‘Oh, we are one big family,’ the priest said. ‘The bishop in Nelspruit and I are old friends. He was a novice when I did a stint teaching at our seminary. He told me he’d asked Petro to help you.’

‘But did you know Father Petro? Was he a friend?’

‘Well, I think we were kindred spirits, though he was a lot younger than me, of course. He used to stay here on his visits to the city.’ Father Vincent looked around the church, at the empty pews. ‘He said he could still hear the sound of protest here. He had imagination, I’ll give him that.’

‘He was running an errand for me when he was killed.’

‘Who says he was killed?’

‘Well, isn’t that what most people think? We were threatened by some thuggish types that evening.’

‘He certainly had his enemies but, no, he was not killed. It seems it was a terrible accident. The bishop has checked. Word gets round in those places. If something bad happens, people know about it.’

‘How can you be so sure?’

‘I’m not sure, not in the way you mean it. It’s enough for me to know that he was doing God’s work and he is with the Almighty now. He’s in a better place.’

God’s work. That was exactly how Father Petro had put it. Schooled in the casual agnosticism of a politically conscious home, Lindi had never been told about faith. There was plenty of talk about religion and doctrine – mostly excoriating – but rarely any mention of belief or the spiritual. She was beginning to feel she had missed out.

They shook hands, then Lindi and Khethiwe marched towards the van. Once inside, they hugged each other, relieved that they had what they had come for.