IN THE BANDA HOUSEHOLD. NATASHA AND STELLA ARE ALONE AS THE PASTOR IS MEETING MR NXUMALO AT THE CHURCH, AND THE CHILDREN ARE AT SCHOOL. MONDAY, 1 P.M.

NATASHA: (Lazily switching between channels) How are the kids? Excited about school? I used to hate school and always looked forward to the weekends and holidays.

STELLA: (Pacing around nervously) How are you so calm? We killed someone’s son, for heaven’s sake! And so many people know now. (Biting her nails) My husband and the deacon know one of them will speak. They are weak! They are very weak men! Why did you not lie? You’ve always said you’re good at thinking on your feet, and you let those two put you in a corner? Are you insane? You admitted to murder!

NATASHA: To set you free, my love, to set us free. We can finally-

STELLA: (Interrupting) We can finally what? Run into the sunset on a sandy beach with ciders in our hands? We committed a hefty crime; I have children, Natasha! I have a family.

NATASHA: And you have me. I did this for us. (Standing up) Can’t you see, we would have been stuck in this cycle of running away from the eyes of your husband, the eyes of the church, society, and all these people we don’t even care about?

STELLA: We have gone too far; we took that poor boy’s life.

NATASHA: He threatened us? What were we supposed to do?

STELLA: Not kill him! Anything but kill him.

NATASHA: That hypocrite wanted fifty thousand rands. How were we going to afford that?

STELLA: (Shaking) We have close to half of that saved up? We could have offered him that.

NATASHA: (Hugging Stella) You’re panicking. Babe, listen, we have been saving that money for years now. I wasn’t about to let a hypocritical fool take our dream away from us. (Wiping off Stella’s tears) We can still see it through. We take the kids and relocate. I found a small town in Mozambique, barely traceable, with not many residents, and inclusive.

STELLA: When the police find out we ran, we will be tried and charged even more harshly.

NATASHA: When the police find out, we will be out of the country and-

(Door creaks and opens)

PASTOR BANDA: What on earth is going on here?

NATASHA: What are you doing here?

PASTOR BANDA: What am I doing here? This is my house! What are you doing here? Filling my wife’s head with preposterous ideas again?

STELLA: She’s not filling my head with anything. Aren’t you supposed to be at the church?

PASTOR BANDA: We finished early; all we had to do was plan for a Wednesday sermon to replace the Sunday one and-

MR NXUMALO: (Interrupting) So we interrupted your little get-together. Will you kill us too?

STELLA: (hysterically) We’re not murderers.

MR NXUMALO: Tell that to Mlungisi! Oh no, wait, you can’t.

NATASHA: (Angrily) If I were you, I would watch that tone, Nxumalo!

MR NXUMALO: Or else, what?

NATASHA: I wouldn’t throw stones when living in a glass house.

MR NXUMALO: (Angrily) Pastor, I will not stay under the same roof as these sinners. I will see you on Wednesday for the service. (Looking at Natasha and Stella) I wish I could say it was lovely seeing you two, but I’m not a liar.