She felt a tug of attraction in her stomach, a gravitational pull towards him. She leaned forwards and he took her face between unsteady hands. Their lips met; tentatively at first, then deeply, lingering, exploring one another. His hands were stroking her face, smoothing back her hair. Her body filled with heat and she heard him groan softly.

She broke away and started walking again. Desire passed swiftly into an awareness of what she had done. Her cheeks burned. How could she have been so weak? She loved Stephen and had never once thought of betraying him. How did she let this happen?

Mark hurried to catch up with her. His breathing was audible. ‘Are you alright?’ he asked when they were level.

‘Yes, of course I am.’

The smile she gave him was strained, for her heart was aching; anxious and restless. She knew she should say something about what had happened, but she didn’t know what. He evidently didn’t know what to say either, because after a pause, he changed the subject.

‘Your tattoo. Forgive me if I’m being too personal. . . it’s just, I’ve always wondered. What made you have it done? And why a snake?’

Ginie hesitated, trying to decide which version of the story to tell him. ‘It was a birthday surprise for my then-lover.’ She smiled at him slowly, watching his face flush dark red.

‘Oh. I see. Did he, um. . . did he like it?’

‘Actually, he hated it, but that’s another story,’ she said lightly.

‘You’re so brave. I love that about you.’

‘Me, brave?’

‘Yes. It’s brave not to care about what people think. Anyone at all liberal or progressive is viewed with suspicion around here, and you just don’t care.’ A mosquito bit him on the face and he slapped it. His hand came away with a streak of blood.

They had broken out of the trees now and were walking across a wide field that led to the boundary of the property. In the distance, they could see the staff of La Rochelle gathered in worship. Ginie instinctively drew away from Mark.

The staff’s church was under a large, spreading msasa tree. Families were dressed all in white. The local pastor was an Apostolic; he would harangue them for their many sins with great fervour. The sermons usually lasted for hours, but this one seemed to be coming to an end. The group was breaking up as Ginie and Mark got nearer.

Ginie saw Mary’s youngest child clinging to her skirt. She noted with satisfaction how plump and healthy he looked – there was an adorable dimple in one of his cheeks. Mary was deep in conversation with a short man Ginie didn’t recognize. He was dressed in an overcoat, despite the warmth of the weather. He melted away as soon as he saw her and Mark.

‘Good afternoon,’ Ginie greeted Mary.

‘Afternoon, Missus Ginie.’ Mary kept her eyes lowered.