She hadn’t told Stephen of her change of heart about staying in Rhodesia. She hadn’t found the right time, or the right words. Reaching him, she slipped her arm through his and they looked out at the landscape, which lay dark and mysterious.

The trees stood vast and still; the air laced with their dusky fragrance and the clear, cool perfume of the roses from the beds close to them. The red roses were dark shadows, the white ones like pales faces, watching them. Frogs were growling their monotonous calls from the pool, crickets chirped and from the staff houses at the back, the sound of drums and singing started up. The music flowed across the night, full of life.

‘It won’t be easy saying goodbye to all of this,’ Stephen said.

Ginie took a deep breath. ‘We don’t have to say goodbye to it.’

She felt Stephen give her a serious, hard look.

‘Look, there’s the Southern Cross,’ she remarked. ‘There’s the Plough, the Pleiades. . . and I think that big one over there is Venus.’

‘Are you telling me you want to stay?’ he asked.

‘Yes.’

‘It’s not safe here.’

‘Whoever shot Jongy is a coward and a bully. How can we live with ourselves if we give in to a person like that?’

He didn’t answer, so she said, ‘Someone’s got to stand up for this country.’

‘But does it have to be us?’ he shot back.

‘It’s not like you to run away, darling.’

‘But why not run?’ he demanded, exasperated. ‘There’s no shame in it; it’s just self-preservation. Whoever shot Jongy is a nasty, brutal piece of work. A dirty fighter. He’s likely to attack again. And he’s probably backed by most of the white community.’

‘When he sees we’re not easily intimidated, he’ll give up like the coward he is and then we’ll be free of him.’

For a moment, she wavered, wondering if Stephen was right and there would be more violence. She had a vision of the two of them leading safe, aimless lives in some cosy little country and knew she could no sooner return to their old lives than she could bring Jongy back from the dead.

Ginie tried again. ‘When we saw the need here and realised we could do something about it – well, it has changed our lives. It gave us purpose, didn’t it? How many people have that?’

Something shifted in his face and she knew she’d got through to him.

She gave his arm a squeeze. ‘What do you think?’

He opened his mouth to speak, but the phone started ringing. ‘I’d better go and answer it,’ he sighed.