KATE HAD ARRANGED to meet Julian and Silas over lunch, to discuss the plans for Silas's fiftieth birthday party. She had recruited Julian into the cause of organizing a ‘truly wonderful celebration’ . Julian, she felt, had to find ‘new meaning in his life’ now that his marriage was over. Val had left him, suddenly, without even the courtesy of a letter or an e-mail message. She had never been one for disembodied self-justifications. She left it to her lawyer to inform Julian about her intention to sue for divorce, and the conditions under which he would be able to see his son. ‘It's all for the best,’ the lawyer had said, mimicking Val's unctuous tones.

Now Julian was spending aimless hours at the office, trying to formulate a ‘comprehensive HIV policy’ that would soon be redundant, given that the President was about to retire and his designated successor had strong views on how this ‘scourge ought to be tackled’ .

Julian had chosen a restaurant called ‘Crucible’ , because it was chic and decadent, he said. It was one of those new upmarket establishments that promised both ‘style’ and ‘the feel of Africa’ , as if the two concepts were usually contradictory. Nouvelle cuisine in the bush. An hour's drive from Pretoria, Crucible sat like a heavily made-up but lovable old aunt, Julian said, on a ridge overlooking the place where (it was reputed) Man had been born.

‘You'll love it!’

Kate shuddered at the thought of having lunch in the midst of a brash business clientele, men in suits who still believed they owned the world. They could afford the leisure of turning away from the city for a few hours, to feast, get drunk, fortify themselves on their self-righteous, pitying sympathy for a government ‘who just couldn't get things right’ . She suggested somewhere closer, a place where Silas especially wouldn't feel out of place. Julian should know how uncomfortable Silas would be among the kind of people who must frequent – ‘What's it called? The Crucible?’

‘No, darling, just “Crucible”. There is a subtle difference, you know. You can sit under a tree, enjoy the heat and the shade, hear the buzzing of insects, the splash of water. There is a brook nearby. Beauty you don't even have to see. Talk about the best of both worlds!’ In any case, the place epitomized the new democratic order; it was run by former enemies – an ex-cop and a one-time MK soldier, for whom the government could find no new role. ‘Isn't that just marvellous!’

Julian's enthusiasm finally persuaded Kate.

‘The place is out near Krugersdorp, and it overlooks a game reserve or something like that,’ she forewarned Silas, when she picked him up. She also cautioned that Julian's marriage had finally crumbled and his wife had moved out. ‘But don't probe, let him tell you on his own.’