‘While Mary was helping me get ready for bed,’ she said, putting toast and eggs on her plate, ‘She told me exactly how it felt to have people walk out of the auditorium because of the colour of her skin. How hurt and angry and ashamed she was. And I realized how much privilege we have. White people have branded her a reject in her own country, part of a sub-human race because of something she cannot control. How could I possibly sleep after that?’

Stephen was pouring glasses of orange juice for both of them. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, setting the jug down. ‘I didn’t sleep well either.’

‘So, instead of thanks for financing our lovely theatre, we get this.’

‘Mmm.’ He sipped his juice. ‘I don’t think I want to carry on with the theatre anymore.’

‘Me neither. It’s sad when you think of what we’ve put into it.’

Stephen sat forward and rubbed his face. ‘Shall I draft a letter of resignation to the Board of Trustees?’

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Yes, I think so. And make sure our reasons are crystal clear.’

They ate in silence ‘What are you going to do today?’ Stephen asked, at last.

‘Well, I suppose I’ll go to the Fantasy.’ Reaching for the coffee pot, she poured herself a cup. ‘I don’t know how long I’ll be there. Don’t wait for me for lunch.’

Stephen sighed and started to flip through the newspaper. ‘By the way, there’s a good review of the play here. It seems Umtali is rather keen on theatre, for a small town.’

The smell of the coffee was making Ginie’s head reel. ‘Perhaps I’ll look at it later,’ she said. Stephen turned back to the paper and his expression changed.

‘What?’ asked Ginie.

‘There’s been a breakout at the prison. Listen to this.’ He began to read aloud:

Police are searching the bush on the Rhodesian-Mozambique border for eight African men who escaped Umtali Prison last night. The men stormed the main gate of the prison, overpowered the warden on the gate and, in the melee that followed, got away. Red-and-white-striped prison shirts, which the men were wearing when they escaped, were found discarded in the bush near the jail. The escapees are extremely dangerous and should on no account be approached.

Stephen lifted his eyes to meet hers. ‘If they’re heading for the Mozambique border, they’re going to cut straight across our land.’

30 Ginie, Rhodesia, 1950s

30

Ginie, Rhodesia, 1950s

Mark came to La Rochelle to discuss the progress of the farm school. It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon in spring. The jacarandas were bursting into clouds of purple blossom, the flowerbeds were full of daffodils, primula and violets. They had drinks on the veranda. Dixon was off duty, so Ginie poured three generous measures of whisky.

‘It’s not too early for the hard stuff, is it?’ she asked.