The Childhood of Jesus by J. M. Coetzee

struck a second blow. They are not heavy blows, but they jolt him.
    â€˜Why do you do that!’ he exclaims, rising.
    â€˜I am not a fool!’ hisses Diego. ‘Do you think I am a fool?’ Again he raises a threatening hand.
    â€˜Not for a moment do I take you for a fool.’ He needs to placate this young man, who must be upset—as who would not be?—by this queer intervention in his life. ‘It is an unusual story, I admit. But spare a thought for the child. He is the one whose needs are paramount.’
    His plea has no effect: Diego glares as belligerently as before. He plays his last card. ‘Come on, Diego,’ he says, ‘look into your heart! If there is goodwill in your heart, surely you will not keep a child from his mother!’
    â€˜It’s not for you to doubt my goodwill,’ says Diego.
    â€˜Then prove it! Come back with me and prove to the child how much goodwill you are capable of. Come!’ And he rises and takes Diego’s arm.
    A strange spectacle greets them. Diego’s sister is kneeling on the bed with her back to them, straddling the boy—who lies flat on his back beneath her—her dress hoisted up to allow a glimpse of solid, rather heavy thighs. ‘Where is the spider, where is the spider…?’ she croons in a high, thin voice. Her fingers drift down his chest to his belt buckle; she tickles him, convulsing him in helpless laughter.
    â€˜We are back,’ he announces in a loud voice. She scrambles off the bed, her face flushed.
    â€˜Inés and I are playing a game,’ says the boy.
    Inés! So that is the name! And in the name the essence!
    â€˜Inés!’ says the brother, and beckons to her curtly. Smoothing her dress down, she hurries after him. From the corridor come furious whisperings.
    Inés comes marching back, her brother trailing behind. ‘We want you to go through all of it again,’ she says.
    â€˜You want me to repeat my proposal?’
    â€˜Yes.’
    â€˜Very well. I propose that you become David’s mother. I give up all claim to him (he has a claim on me, but that is a different matter). I will sign any paper you put before me to confirm it. You and he can live together as mother and child. It can happen as soon as you like.’
    Diego gives an exasperated snort. ‘This is all nonsense!’ he exclaims. ‘You can’t be this child’s mother, he already has a mother, the mother he was born to! Without his mother’s permission you can’t adopt him. Listen to me!’
    He exchanges a silent glance with Inés. ‘I want him,’ she says, addressing not him but her brother. ‘I want him,’ she repeats. ‘But we can’t stay at La Residencia.’
    â€˜As I told your brother, you are welcome to move in here. It can happen today. I will move out at once. This will be your new home.’
    â€˜I don’t want you to go,’ says the boy.
    â€˜I won’t go far, my boy. I will go and stay with Elena and Fidel. You and your mother can come visiting whenever you like.’
    â€˜I want you to stay here,’ says the boy.
    â€˜That is sweet of you, but I can’t come between you and your mother. From now on, you and she are going to be together. You will be a family. I can’t be part of that family. But I will be a helper, a servant and a helper. I promise.’ He turns to Inés. ‘Are we agreed?’
    â€˜Yes.’ Now that she has made up her mind, Inés has become quite imperious. ‘We will come back tomorrow. We will bring our dog. Will your neighbours object to a dog?’
    â€˜They would not dare.’
    By the time Inés and her brother return the next morning, he has swept the floors, scrubbed the tiles, changed the sheets; his own belongings are bundled up and ready to go.
    Diego heads the incoming procession, bearing a large suitcase on his shoulder. He drops it on the bed.