She had determined not to have favourites, but she couldn’t help herself. Ant remained special. During his second lesson, they’d read Mr Kipling’s next two stories (she hadn’t been able to resist his request for another): ‘How the Camel Got His Hump’ and ‘How the Rhinoceros Got His Skin’. Each story with its attendant pictures produced the same reaction in Ant – utter enchantment. And he shared his delight with her unashamedly. She would catch his intense gaze when she looked up from a difficult section she’d read out to him, or he would smile at her in triumph as he looked up from a piece he knew he’d read well, on all occasions meeting her eyes directly. And when they studied the difficult sections, analysing the words, writing out the letters together, Ant copying her hand, they would sit huddled side by side, so close their bodies would occasionally make contact – unconsciously – the slightest touch of a shoulder, an arm or even a thigh, which did not in the least bother either of them.

The difference in Ant mystified Amelia. He was two different people. In the company of Captain Robinson, he was just as he’d been when she’d first met him – withdrawn, insecure, eyes focused on the ground – different altogether from the animated, endearingly childlike creature who related to her so intimately in private. She could only presume his subservient manner was because Captain Robinson was his commanding officer. But this, also, she found odd. Samuel Robinson was always cordial to his men, at least he was in her company. Neither Leo nor Robbie appeared to find him overly intimidating. Was there a problem? Was something going on, something ugly? Did Ant possibly live in fear of his commanding officer? Could Samuel Robinson, who appeared a kind man, be bullying young Anthony? Amelia longed to find out, but dared not ask.

From the sheltered existence of her twenty-eight years in Townsville, from a childhood ruled by over-protective parents followed by a dysfunctional marriage, Amelia Sanderson could have had no idea of Anthony Hill’s background and the world he came from. She could never have known she was the only white person in whose company Ant had ever relaxed, and that this was principally due not only to the joy of learning he was currently discovering, but to the fact she was a woman. Had he been introduced to the magic of Rudyard Kipling by a kindly male teacher with the best of intentions, just as Amelia’s were, his reaction would not have been the same. Ant could relate to no white man on a personal level. It was not the way he’d been brought up. It was not the way his parents had been brought up, nor his parents’ parents. Ant came from a very long line of subjugated Negroes, as did so many of his friends back home.