Sitshengisiwe was thus left to indulge her thoughts in peace. Her thoughts inevitably went to the New Year’s Day party that the Mthimkhulus – Bodecia and her husband, Silas – had thrown, and invited the entire street to attend. The food and beer had been abundant (which had made Philemon very happy), but what had caught Sitshengisiwe’s eye was the way the house was furnished and decorated. There was an obvious quality embedded in the things that the Mthimkhulus owned – in the feel of the velveteen sofas and their crocheted doily covers, in the almost weightless fragility of their drinking glasses, in the shine and shimmer of their silver, in the crinkle of the handmade Christmas decorations that hung from the ceiling – and this quality of things reminded Sitshengisiwe of her childhood and made her miss it and want it back. She wanted back the comfort and abundance of her life in one of her father’s many houses as the last and therefore favourite of his thirteen children.

Perhaps it was the fact that Silas Mthimkhulu had made his wealth the same way that her father had – by owning stores that sold goods to Africans who lived in the villages and townships – or, perhaps, it was the fact that Bodecia, with her georgette navy-blue dress, Berkshire-stockinged legs, sturdy Mary-Janes with golden buckles, hot-comb-ironed straight hair, and healthy, glowing skin that looked like it was advertising something – Ambi, perhaps – reminded Sitshengisiwe of the woman she had always thought, as a child, she would become. Whatever the reason, the result was that at the end of only a few hours in the Mthimkhulu’s house, Sitshengisiwe had felt that after twenty years of marriage to Philemon, their luck, which had hitherto neither been particularly good nor bad, just theirs, was about to change.

The journey to Founders all began because Sitshengisiwe’s throat, long accustomed to weak orange squash and no longer used to the strength of Mazoe Orange Crush, had tickled and caused her to cough after she took a sip from a glass Silas Mthimkhulu had placed in her hands. By the time Bodecia, the perfect attentive hostess, came to her rescue with a glass of water and a gentle pat on the back, Sitshengisiwe was hacking rather embarrassingly. Bodecia had then been kind enough to strike up a conversation, and Sitshengisiwe had found herself telling Bodecia about her life with its very comfortable beginning and not so comfortable present. Sitshengisiwe had to lay her change in fortunes at the door of something other than her husband, and so she laid it at the door of her incomplete education. Bodecia, who, quite naturally, knew of Cosmos Nyathi and his empire, was sympathetic, and suggested that Sitshengisiwe finish her education through the adult literacy program that the new government, once elected, would certainly be putting in place.