I look at Chantal in surprise. “You and Keisha want to stay with me?”

“Yes,” she says, moving Keisha to her other hip.

“Chantal, my dad and I live in the wendy house,” I say. “You can see how small the place is.” I shake my head. “Where and how will the two of you sleep? And you just said that Keisha cries every night.”

“Michael,” Chantal bounces Keisha on her hip. “I was in matric when I became pregnant with Keisha … with your child. I had my whole life in front of me. I wanted to be a lawyer. Now my life is a mess. My parents fight with me every day. Michael, you never have a job, which means you don’t support your child. Now I have to go and stand in a queue every month to get SASSA money. I’m not like the other girls. I’m embarrassed to draw that money, but I swallow my pride every month. I don’t do it for myself,” she nods at Keisha, “I do it for her.”

“I hear you, Chantal …”

“Don’t hear, Michael,” she says angrily. “Do something. Do you want me to regret that you’re my boyfriend? Do you want me to regret that you are the father of my child?”

“I’ve sent my CV everywhere,” I say. “I’ve asked a couple of people to keep an eye out for jobs at their workplace. The best I can do now is to wait and see.”

“Wait and see?” she asks sarcastically. She looks right through me when she’s this angry. She points at the street with her finger. “You and Warren sit out here in the sun enjoying yourselves. You drink beer, but your child doesn’t have money for milk. I don’t get that.”

I sigh audibly. “I didn’t buy those beers,. Warren bought them.”

Chantal pushes a dummy into Keisha’s mouth and carefully lays her down on the bed. She looks back at me.

“Michael, it doesn’t matter who bought those beers. The fact is, you sit here drinking while your own child has nothing to eat tonight. Is that the kind of father you are?”

I lean against the door and look at the ceiling. What am I supposed to say to Chantal? Does she want me to do magic and conjure up the money? Does she want me to steal the money? Jissis, why am I thinking about stealing the money? Bloody Warren!

I breathe deeply. “What do you want me to do?” I ask.

She puts her fists on her hips. I know Chantal well. If she stands the way she’s standing now, then she’s serious and she won’t take nonsense from anybody.

“I want you to be a father to your child. I want to come and stay here with Keisha. My mother warned me you weren’t the right boyfriend for me. I was hard-headed and did what I thought was right. Please, Michael, don’t prove my mom right.”

I close my eyes and open them again. Where will we all sleep? “There’s only one bed here and my dad and I sleep on it. Let me see if I can get another mattress somewhere. I’ll ask Aunt Sybil if she has a spare mattress. I’ll ask Warren too. Can you go to your parents’ home for now? I’ll come fetch you and Keisha later.”

“If you don’t find a mattress, let me know,” she says. “I also have friends. I’ll ask them if any of them have a spare.”

“It’s not just about the mattress,” I say gloomily.

“What then?” she asks.

“A lot of things,” I say and look out the door at the clothes on the washing line. “Where are we going to get food for us all? My dad and I are struggling as it is. How will you wash yourself with us two men here? What will I say to Aunt Sybil about why you want to stay here? It’s still her yard.”

Chantal picks Keisha up. “Think of something,” she says. “I’ll help where I can.”

We leave the wendy house. Warren is still sitting on the sidewalk outside, drinking his beer. I take Chantal to the corner of the street, then walk back and sit down next to Warren.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do, Warren,” I say. “Now Chantal wants to bring Keisha and come and stay with me.”

He points his thumb at the wendy house. “In there?”

I nod.

Warren lights another cigarette and squints at the sky. “I’ve told you what we should do,” he says.

“What should we do?” I ask.

“We should break into that house and steal some stuff.”

Tell us: What should Michael do? What do you think about Warren?