The priest took up a position just behind the coffin and waited for quiet. He gave the final blessing. He said Lesedi would be buried right there in Soweto where he belonged and that the family had requested, politely, that the interment should be private, just for the two hundred or so people who had received invitations to attend. He broke into Zulu when he said that afterwards refreshments would be served in the tent outside, and that Josiah Motlantshe had insisted that everyone was invited. There was a reverberating rumble of approval from the crowd outside, which could be heard inside Regina Mundi.

All eyes were on the pall-bearers as they performed the most challenging part of their task, lifting the coffin from the bier and on to their shoulders again. That done they began the sedate walk back down the aisle, accompanied by the choir singing the mournful and moving ‘Senzenina’, the old anti-apartheid protest song, now given a new meaning, a new currency, in this new South Africa.

Kagiso let the others in his pew out but stayed where he was. After the joy of his instant recognition at seeing Lindi, he was now overcome by awkwardness, like a plantation worker in front of the white madam. His hands plunged deep into his trouser pockets, he shuffled down and across the aisle, saying, ‘Hey! It’s great to see you.’ He’d barely taken a couple of steps before Lindi was there in front of him.

‘Is that it?’ she asked, but didn’t wait for an answer. With an abandon that was normally alien to her, Lindi reached up to Kagiso and hugged him. It was only when she realised that his arms were still hanging limply by his sides that she pulled away.

‘Look at me! I’m all over you like a rash. I’m sorry.’

‘Ah! No, it’s me. I just wasn’t sure what to expect. It’s been so long and …’ His voice trailed off.

‘And what?’

‘Well, we were just kids.’

‘And we were like family!’ As the words came out she felt the chill shadow of doubt pass over her. Perhaps it had all been an elaborate one-sided fantasy, this idea that the Seatons’ generosity all those years earlier had amounted to anything more than the rich giving alms to the poor.

Kagiso didn’t just see the anxiety, he remembered it, and now he understood it. He saw again the girl who’d edged her way around his friendship with Ralph. He saw the crumpling power of rejection on a face that only moments earlier had been a beaming picture of warmth and friendship.

‘Let’s just do that again,’ he said. ‘I’m such a domkop! First on the phone last night and now acting like some uptight white man.’ He held both Lindi’s hands and pulled her in. ‘Welcome back.’