She took the casserole out of the oven, tossed the potatoes in gravy and warmed a plate for him. When he returned he looked sullen, and he did not speak as he sat down at the table.

‘Janni, please listen to what I keep saying.’

He pushed his plate aside. ‘It’s not all bad here,’ he said.

‘It’s hopeless,’ Lottie said. ‘Ian Smith has isolated himself from everyone except South Africa. No other nation is going to back Rhodesia as long as he refuses to consider a future where black people have a say. The police and the army can’t keep out the people who’ve been exiled and are now coming back here to fight. The Russians and Chinese and the Cubans will help them to make trouble. And the natives think these parties in exile will remove Smith one day, and give them all the land that the white people own now. It’s only a matter of time before we are living in a full-scale war.’

‘It will change, if we can hold out for a while.’

‘You’re just fooling yourself if you think any good can come of the way things are going here,’ Lottie said. ‘Kobus and people like him will be dispossessed some day, maybe even massacred. And so will we, if we stay and support him. You’re spending your time defending what cannot be defended. And for what? For a man you despise, and for his land, and for a country that has nothing to do with us!’

Jan stood up, shaking his head, and went to pour himself another whisky. Lottie sat back on her heels and rubbed her hand across her eyes. When she spoke again her voice was low and desperate.

‘You don’t need another drink, Janni. Please. Stop this now. If you love me, don’t do this.’