‘Yes?’ she encouraged. Mary had never asked her for anything. Surprise was quickly followed by apprehension; was she going to bring up the escaped prisoners or Eric’s murder? Ginie put the book down, feeling her stomach begin to knot up. It had been a month since the anonymous letter and they hadn’t heard anything since, yet her nerves were ragged and the slightest thing made her jumpy.

Mary came fully into the room, her hands thrust into the pockets of her apron.

‘My friends would like to meet Mr Stephen,’ she said carefully.

‘Oh, really? Who are they?’

‘Politicians. Their names are Ndabaningi Sithole, Herbert Chitepo and Robert Mugabe. They know about your work for our people.’

Ginie felt relief. ‘I didn’t realise you were interested in politics, Mary.’ She remembered coming home early from a trip to town to find Mary in the parlour, listening to crackling voices on a muted short-wave radio station. Mary had snapped the radio off as soon as she saw Ginie.

‘Yes I used to go to meetings with Eliot. We learned about many things.’

‘I’m fascinated. What sort of things?’

Mary fixed Ginie with thoughtful eyes. ‘Well, capitalism and socialism and equal rights. We talked about the injustices of white supremacy. I mean, I grew up with it – it was always there. I knew it when I left school and left my family to get married, but I didn’t really know it until those meetings.’

Mary’s eyes travelled to the heave of the hills beyond the open window. The breeze coming through was warm and smelled of freshly cut grass.

‘I think that we should be our own leaders,’ she said quietly. ‘I don’t know how we are going to get there, but I want to be part of it.’

‘You never cease to amaze me. Why don’t you ask your friends to come for supper, say next Tuesday?’

Mary brought her gaze back to Ginie. ‘No, they can’t do that. The police are watching them, you see. I’ll think of a way to bring them here without being seen.’

Stephen sat at his desk working on a new project: the development of the National Gallery in Salisbury, which had begun to consume a great deal of his time and effort. To get a brand-new gallery going involved much prodding of slow-moving ministers and officials, but he was making progress. The first permanent Board of Trustees had been established, with Stephen as Chairman. He was working to raise funds, having got the ball rolling with a sizeable donation.