He watched Jamie nibble on her crisp like a tentative squirrel, then put it down when she took a sip of her wine, and forget to pick it up again. It was no wonder she was so skinny. Fit, yes, and probably healthy as a horse, but a bit on the lean side for his taste.

Still, she made up for it with all that dark blonde hair and those big eyes. All in all, she was a hell of a package. He could kick himself for having freaked out on her like that at their first meeting. Time to correct that unfortunate first impression.

“So why did you come back?” Jamie asked. “I love stories about people who come back to South Africa. Maybe because I’ve never really left.” She thought about that for a while, then added, “Although, I have travelled, of course.”

She heard the careful dignity in her tone, and knew she was getting tipsy fast.

Tom hesitated. Then he said, “I came back for my step-mother. She got to a point where she couldn’t come out to visit me regularly any more. I’m all she has, you see. She was already over forty when she met my dad, and they never managed to have any kids together. She’s only sixty-five now, but she has early-onset Alzheimer’s. She can travel when I’m with her, but the days when I could just send her a ticket and meet her at JFK are over.”

“That’s so sad!”

“Yeah, we’ve had some bad moments. But I’m glad I came back. I was getting into a rut in my old job.”

“And now you’ve given your step-mom a grandson. That’s so sweet. She must be so proud of you.” Tears pricked at the corners of Jamie’s eyes. Oh, yes, she thought. Tipsy, for sure.

Tom looked down into his wine. When he looked up again, he wasn’t smiling. “Not really. That’s actually one of the things I wanted to talk to you about. I feel I owe you an explanation for my behaviour…”

“You don’t have to apologise again. I said I understood, and I do. Really.”

“You can’t understand without knowing the whole story.”

“Okay.” She sat up straighter and put down her wineglass. “The thing is, my step-mother is one of those old-school white South Africans who don’t even bother pretending to be glad that apartheid is over. She was horrified when I adopted a black baby. Completely horrified.”

“I’m sure that was just the Alzheimer’s talking.”

“I thought of that. Because that’s one of the symptoms of the disease – it can turn you into a caricature of yourself. I hoped that when she got used to Ben, she would mellow towards him. And now that he’s walking and starting to talk, he’s so bright and funny, I was sure he would win her over.”

“Didn’t it work?”

“Well, that’s the thing. I thought it was working. She hadn’t made any unpleasant comments for ages, and she’d been having really good weeks where she was lucid most of the time. When that happens it can almost trick you into thinking she’s getting better. So I had her over for tea on Monday morning – she’s always better in the mornings – and Ben was really charming and it seemed he was finally getting through to her.” He paused to take a sip of wine.

“Anyway,” he went on. “I got a work-related phone call while we were having tea and I thought it was fine to walk into the next room where it wasn’t quite so noisy. I mean, Vuyiswa was right there in the kitchen, and she’s very vigilant. Then when I went back into the living room a minute later, Ben was gone. I asked my step-mother where he was, and she said he’d gone into the kitchen to ask Vuyiswa for something. Vuyiswa said she hadn’t seen him, but then she mentioned that she’d heard the front door opening and closing.”

“Oh, no.”

“Exactly. I ran out into the street and he was nowhere to be seen. So I ran back into the house and asked my step-mother what she’d done. She hadn’t let him out into the road, had she? She just sipped her tea calmly and said, ‘It’s for the best, dear.’ Of course by then I was completely frantic, imagining him kidnapped or hit by a car or whatever. I ran out into the road and started ringing on doors like a maniac.”

“You did look a little deranged,” Jamie admitted.

“My step-mother had just tried to kill my son. Perfectly calmly, as though she knew exactly what she was doing. I was so angry I was beside myself. And the thought that I should never have left them alone together, that was the worst. Because she’s the one who’s ill, not me. And that made it more my fault than hers. But I shouldn’t have taken it out on you like that. If it hadn’t been for you, he might really have been hurt or killed, as I realised when I finally calmed down.

“So…”
He blew out a breath. “Thank you. Thank you for saving my son.”

Jamie looked at him for a long moment. Then she reached for her phone and started scrolling through her contacts.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m calling Pizza Oven,” she told him. “You owe me a pizza, and I think we could both use another glass of wine.”