The door slammed shut, cutting her off. Ginie watched helplessly as van Niekerk walked to the driver’s seat and heaved himself in. Red dust spurted up behind the car as it roared down the hill. The Courtaulds watched until it vanished from sight. Ginie felt nothing, not anger, not sorrow. It was as if Mary’s absence had taken everything from her. She felt she could keel over, or be cast into the air like a discarded paper bag. Returning to the veranda, she sat and gazed unseeingly at the garden while Stephen called Chitepo to try and arrange bail for Mary.

34 Catherine, Rhodesia, 1950s

34

Catherine, Rhodesia, 1950s

I came home from school to find Tucker lying on his back on the parched earth behind the house. His water dish was empty and he was twitching weakly.

Panicked, I shouted for Mum but she did not answer. I ran to the kitchen and mixed up some sugar water. Grabbing the dropper, I hurried back to Tucker, but he was too far gone and didn’t have the strength to take it. The liquid dribbled out of his beak uselessly. He was looking at me and I couldn’t tell if his expression was pleading or resigned. As I stared back, his eyes began to dull and film over.

Mum was on the old sofa in the living room, staring into space. The rings under her eyes were so purple and bruised, it looked as though someone had hit her. She looked stricken when I told her Tucker was dead and she murmured about bird diseases, but I knew that she had forgotten to fill his water dish. Tame since infancy, he had lost the ability to fend for himself.

Dad helped me bury Tucker in the garden, under the big mawonga tree. We made a plain wooden cross and etched his name on it. Tears were soaking my face. Dad’s eyes were dark, the grey and blue fused by angel. Late that night, when they thought I was sleeping, I heard him berating my mother for not checking Tucker’s water in the heat.

‘Mark. . .’

‘I can only do so much,’ Dad said. ‘What do you want me to do?’

‘Give me one last chance. Please? I’ll be better, I promise.’

There was a long pause. My anxiety bled out into the darkness. Then, the quiet, hopeless sound of her crying.

‘I can’t do this anymore,’ I heard my father say. ‘I can’t prop you up anymore, it’s killing me.’

‘It’s Ginie, isn’t it?’ she sobbed. ‘That damned dragon lady has turned your head. I’d be able to reach you if it wasn’t for her. You’re always going over there behind my back, what am I supposed to think?’