CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT

Zodwa

10 October 1995

Verdriet, Magaliesburg, South Africa

Ruth has been away for hours. She didn’t tell Zodwa where she was going but before she left, she styled her hair and reapplied her makeup, changing into a tight dress that showed off her cleavage, which she paired with those towering high heels she liked to wear. Zodwa couldn’t imagine how Ruth could drive in them.

“Bye, my handsome boy,” she said, cupping Mandla’s face and kissing it.

There was a crazed air to Ruth, something manic in the way she moved, and Zodwa was tempted to ask her if she was okay. But she was aware that doing so would be crossing a line. She was Ruth’s employee, not her friend. Mandla kicked up a fuss as Ruth was leaving, holding out his arms and calling for her. “Mama!”

“Mama will be home soon!” Ruth called as she blew a kiss and closed the door behind her.

And now it’s almost 9:00 p.m. and Ruth still isn’t back. Mandla’s sleeping in his room and Zodwa herself is tired. She’s just considering phoning Riaan to speak to Delilah when Jezebel starts barking frantically at the door. Zodwa peers outside. Ruth’s car is parked just beyond the electric gate. The driver’s door is open and the headlights are on, but no one is inside.

That’s when Zodwa thinks she hears a splash.

She checks on Mandla, who’s still asleep despite the dog’s barking, and draws his door closed before calling Jezebel and going outside. She locks the door behind her and sets off at a run for the fence, shielding her eyes against the glare of the headlights. Once through the gate, she double-checks the car to make sure Ruth isn’t in it. She’s not.

Has she been hijacked?

Zodwa has heard about the tactics used to steal cars and knows that people are prime targets when stopped at gates while waiting for them to open. She’s just wondering if she should go inside and press the panic button on the remote control when she hears Ruth’s voice coming from the dam, the water amplifying the sound. Zodwa heads toward the windmill, its blades glinting in the dark, and hears another splash as she rounds the bend.

Ruth is in the water and Jezebel paces along the water’s edge, whining next to the heap of Ruth’s clothes.

“Madam Ruth?” Zodwa calls, uncertain what to do.

“Oh, hello, Zodwa. Don’t mind me. I’m just looking for my rings,” she calls, and laughs, though it doesn’t sound like amusement at all. Instead, it sounds unhinged, as though the laugh is coming from a far-off place.

“Rings? What rings are you talking about, madam?”

“My engagement and wedding rings,” Ruth slurs before ducking beneath the surface.

Zodwa holds her breath, terrified that Ruth won’t come back up again. Zodwa can’t swim and so she won’t be able to save Ruth if it comes to that. She’s just about to scream for help when Ruth’s head pops out again, her hair flattened onto her skull.

“Why would your rings be in there, Madam Ruth?”

“Because that’s where I threw them away after getting the divorce papers.”

The divorce papers. So that’s what was delivered to Ruth earlier, sending her stomping off to the dam.

“We can find them another time. Please get out so we can warm you up.”

When Ruth doesn’t reply, just continues treading water, Zodwa takes off her shoes. Her toes sink into the mud. Ruth begins humming something but it isn’t a tune that Zodwa recognizes.

“Madam Ruth? We need to go inside. Mandla is by himself in his room and I don’t want to leave him alone for too long.”

Ruth doesn’t even react to the boy’s name. Instead, she sinks a bit lower into the water. She’s no longer singing and the water is now up to her nose. Ruth seems to have retreated into some dark corner of her mind. Again, Zodwa considers pressing the panic button but doesn’t want men from the security company arriving and seeing Ruth like this: naked, drunk, and acting crazy.

“I can’t swim but I’m going to walk in now,” Zodwa says as she hitches her housedress up. Her knees are trembling but she tries to ignore how unsteady they feel as she takes a few steps in. The water is up to her thighs and she has to concentrate not to slip on the slimy base of the dam. “I’m coming to get you. Just reach out and take my hand.”

Zodwa stretches it toward Ruth but she’s nowhere near deep enough. She can hear Ruth’s breath against the surface of the water. Zodwa steps in deeper and fights against the rising panic as the water now slips over her waist. It doesn’t matter that she can’t swim. She doesn’t need to. As long as she can stand, the water can’t hurt her.

“Madam Ruth?” Zodwa takes another step and then another until the water laps at her breasts. She’s now in grabbing distance of Ruth and is about to stretch her arm out once more when Ruth sinks below the surface again. One minute she’s there and the next, she’s gone.

A bubble suddenly rises up and Zodwa lunges for it, losing her footing in the process. And then she’s under the surface too, water rushing into her screaming mouth. The world turns black and there is no above or below, nothing except liquid in Zodwa’s mouth and ears and eyes. She screams again and swallows water, which she immediately tries to cough back out. That’s when her feet connect with the bottom of the dam and Zodwa knows to push down with all her might while reaching up, up, up.

When she breaks the surface, she’s coughing and spluttering but blessed air rushes back into her lungs. Ruth is floating facedown right next to her and Zodwa reaches out, grabbing her blouse and yanking Ruth toward her.

Zodwa’s first reaction is one of overwhelming relief as she pulls Ruth to safety. Her second is blazing fury. This is who Leleti entrusted Mandla’s care to? An alcoholic who’s so pampered and spoiled by life that the mere delivery of divorce papers is enough to make her act deranged. A woman who binge drinks and almost drowns herself. This is who Leleti thought would be a better caregiver for her grandson than her own daughter?

I don’t think so.

It’s the same thought that plays in a loop in Zodwa’s mind long after she’s dragged an incoherent Ruth inside, bathed her to warm her up, and then put her to bed. It’s the same thought that plays over and over as she lifts Mandla from his crib and takes him back to her cottage with her, putting him in her bed even as she wonders if she should rather be strapping him to her back and running.