Silence fell, heavy as fog. When Dad started speaking again, his tone was softer. ‘Look, Di, there’s nothing going on between me and Ginie.’ He sighed. ‘I need to tell you something.’

‘What?’

‘Well, Stephen’s been put under surveillance. I’ve been asked to keep an eye on him.’

‘Really? Why?’

‘It seems he’s been entertaining some unsavoury characters.’

‘Like who?’ asked Mum.

‘I’m not supposed to talk about it. You know.’

‘No, I don’t. Because you don’t talk to me.’

‘If I tell you, it’s no longer Intelligence.’

‘I thought you had retired from Intelligence. I thought we’d agreed.’

‘Yes, but this isn’t active service. It’s just observation.’

‘They should find someone else to do their dirty work,’ Mum muttered. ‘The lines are too blurred with the Courtaulds. You’re emotionally involved. I’ve a good mind to write to de Quehen and tell him to take you off the job.’’

‘Don’t be a fool, Diana. I forbid you to do anything of the sort.’

‘Why?’

‘I am perfectly capable of doing my duty.’

I was getting confused by this conversation. Then my mother said something that made even less sense: ‘Beware of running with the hares and hunting with the hounds, Mark.’

After that, they were silent. I felt perturbed and miserable. I cried for a long time, my mouth twisted. Every now and then, I would blow my nose with the handkerchief I kept scrunched up under my pillow. After I had cried myself out completely, I fell into an uneasy sleep.

I dreamt about a hare, his rich coat gleaming in the light. The next instant, he had turned into a hound racing at the front of a baying pack of dogs, saliva dripping from rows of sharp, yellow teeth. Then, he was a hare again, his grey-blue eyes glinting with fear as he slipped and twisted through the forest until he was lost to my sight.

35 Ginie, Rhodesia, 1950s

35

Ginie, Rhodesia, 1950s

From a barren field off the main Inyanga road, Kukwanisa had grown to become a two thousand acre farm run on up-to-date lines. The Courtalds took an immense interest and pride in its progress and they visited regularly. With so much else in her life that was falling apart, Ginie held on to this success.

Ginie had felt unglued since Mary’s arrest; some inner balance she came to rely on had gone. She was frantic with worry about Mary’s safety and was still being ostracized by the whites. She knew she was condemned as an insurgent, a label that had nothing to do with what she truly thought or felt. She was standing up for basic human rights to unite people, but she felt more isolated than ever.