As she waited for Eunice, Sitshengisiwe thought of Philemon and their many years together. They had met in 1960 when she was seventeen and he was twenty-three. She had been on her way to write her English Literature national examination. She, at seventeen, had wanted more than anything to be in love, but love had not yet visited itself upon her. The boys of her youth, it seemed, had allowed themselves to be intimidated by both her father’s wealth and her beauty, which had made her a very daunting prospect. When Philemon approached her that first day, he did not seem to find her at all intimidating; and luckily for him, he had a sweet tongue, and she readily and easily believed him when he told her that he had been waiting for her all his life. Feeling the first pangs of love, Sitshengisiwe went to write her exam, but had promised him she would see him soon after finishing it. Which she did.

They met every day after that, and because he made her feel good in ways that she was young enough to believe only he could, she prioritised her time with him above all else, and stopped going to write her exams altogether.

Things, as they say, lead from one to another, and before long her monthly visitor did not come calling. Sitshengisiwe had had enough of an education to know what this meant. She told Philemon about their predicament, and he told her that he would do right by her, which he did. He paid a visit to her father in order to make his intentions known, and that was when her father had discovered not only that his youngest and favourite child had a boyfriend, but that he was also a garden boy in the suburbs. Had she asked Philemon what he did for a living? Sitshengisiwe no longer remembered. What she knew was that he wanted to be a horticulturalist. He certainly did not dress or talk like a garden boy, and because she saw herself fitting in relatively nicely in the future he envisioned for himself, she had wholeheartedly agreed to marry him. When her father forbade the match, she carried out her one act of defiance – which, at the time, had seemed much like bravery.

Sitshengisiwe had left home with all its petite-bourgeoisie trappings and gone to live with Philemon in the Rutherfords’ boy’s kia. Philemon had presented this as a temporary measure, as he would soon leave the employ of the Rutherfords and find more suitable and respectable work at a garden centre before venturing out on his own.

That had been twenty years ago, and Philemon was still working for the Rutherfords, who continued to be grateful for his many years of service.