That silence again. Then there was only Mercy’s footsteps as she went to put her plate in the kitchen sink, running water as she washed her plate and her hands. She drank some water and coughed. Then as tears streamed down her sister’s averted face, there was the sound of her footsteps as she left the kitchen. At the end of it all, she banged a door. Connie only said something like, ‘O Lord, O Lord,’ and continued sitting in the kitchen. She had hardly eaten anything at all. Very soon Mercy went to have a bath. Then Connie heard her getting ready to leave the house. The shoes. Then she was gone. She needn’t have carried on like that, eh? Because Connie had not meant to probe or bring on a quarrel. What use is there in this old world for a sister, if you can’t have a chat with her? What’s more, things like this never happen to people like Mercy. Their parents were good Presbyterians. They feared God. Mama had not managed to give them all the rules of life before she died. But Connie knows that running around with an old and depraved public man would have been considered an abomination by the parents.

A big car with a super-smooth engine purred into the drive. It actually purrs: this huge machine from the white man’s land. Indeed, its well-mannered protest as the tyres slid on to the gravel seemed like a lullaby compared to the loud thumping of the girl’s stiletto shoes. When Mensar-Arthur saw Mercy, he stretched his arm and opened the door to the passenger seat. She sat down and the door closed with a civilised thud. The engine hummed into motion and the car sailed away.

After a distance of a mile or so from the house, the man started conversation.

‘And how is my darling today?’

‘I am well,’ and only the words did not imply tragedy.

‘You look solemn today, why?’

She remained silent and still.

‘My dear, what is the matter?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Oh . . .’ he cleared his throat again. ‘Eh, and how were the shoes?’

‘Very nice. In fact, I am wearing them now. They pinch a little but then all new shoes are like that.’

‘And the handbag?’

‘I like it very much too. . . . My sister noticed them. I mean the shoes.’ The tragedy was announced.

‘Did she ask you where you got them from?’

‘No.’

He cleared his throat again.

‘Where did we agree to go tonight?’

‘The Globe, but I don’t want to see a film.’

‘Is that so? Mm, I am glad because people always notice things.’

‘But they won’t be too surprised.’

‘What are you saying, my dear?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Okay, so what shall we do?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Shall I drive to the Seaway?’

‘Oh yes.’