The knock on the door as always quickened her with a moment of excitement until she reminded herself that Simon would never have knocked. She had wandered so far away from the day to day realities of her life in the room, in the township, that for a few moments after opening the door she saw him as just another young man. ‘What do you want?’ she asked.

He just shrugged his shoulders.

It was the next movement of his, looking back to make sure that no one was about, that brought her down to earth. Miriam tried to slam the door but he was quicker and got his foot against it. Before she had even thought of screaming he had his hand against her mouth and had forced her back inside and into a chair, kicking the door closed behind him.

Her panic passed quickly into a blind, overwhelming fear for her baby. Involuntarily she looked to the bed. He saw this.

‘If you try to run away or scream I’ll kill your child,’ he said.

When she shook her head agitatedly, he released her. Miriam watched him. When he went to the bed where her child lay, every muscle in her body and in her throat tensed for a frenzied attack. But he did nothing to release it, only bending down for a long and good look at the baby. He turned back to her.

‘Come,’ he said, and moved to the door. The first time he had spoken almost impassively. Now, in that one word, there brooded a weight of something as sombre as thunder.

Miriam shook her head.

‘Come!’ His voice was loud and hard.

She didn’t shake her head this time, but still she made no move.

‘If you don’t come, I’ll kill your baby. It won’t take long.’

She shrunk back at his last words. He knew why, but it was a complicated thought to contradict so he only said: ‘It’s not that.’

‘What then?’

‘Come!’ he roared, and smashed a cup to the floor.

‘Can I leave the child?’

‘Yes.’

‘Can I get somebody to take him?’

‘It won’t take long. You’ll be back.’

He walked ahead; she followed at a few paces, and not once did he look back to see if she was there. Only when they reached the door to his room did he turn and point so that she went in first. Tsotsi closed the door behind them and Miriam pressed herself up against the wall so that he had to drag her by her wrist to the bed. She began to moan softly, but stopped when she saw the baby.

He let her have a good look before speaking.

‘Feed it.’

She showed no understanding of his words and because he had no others he put out his hands and with one wrench tore open her blouse, exposing her breasts. There was no vest or brassiere. ‘Feed it,’ he said again.

She brought up her arms to cover herself and backed away from the bed, shaking her head. It was worse than what she had first thought he wanted. The thought of that greedy, decrepit, foul-smelling bundle in the rags on the bed at her breast filled her with horror. It was a violation of her body that brought to a sharp pitch the possessive, miserly twist in her nature.