‘I do know what’s going on,’ added Mark.

Stephen’s gut knotted. ‘There’s no law against talking, as far as I know.’

‘Damn it, Stephen, have some sense!’ Mark’s hands were clenched around his glass. ‘You don’t want to go putting ideas into their heads.’

‘I assure you I haven’t given them a single idea that they had not thought of already.’

Mark eyed him stonily. ‘You must remember this is Africa,’ he said, with barely contained anger. ‘This isn’t Bognor Regis. Things work differently here.’

Stephen said nothing. He sipped his drink and gave Mark a sideways glance, wondering what it was that made him turn his back on England. What wanderlust, or ambition, or misdemeanour had brought him to this remote part of Rhodesia? Despite having a wife and child, Mark seemed to be a nomad at heart, allergic to bureaucracy and reluctant to be tied to permanent, repetitive work. Southern Africa was full of oddballs who had found Britain too confined.

‘All I’m saying is be careful,’ he warned.

Stephen spotted Ginie walking towards them from the Fantasy. Mark had seen her too, every fibre of him fixed in concentration. Stephen’s heart sank.

‘I don’t want to fight with you,’ he said, eyes still on Ginie.

‘No, me neither,’ Stephen replied.

‘Why, Mark!’ Ginie exclaimed, as she reached the veranda. ‘This is a nice surprise.’

Mark was on his feet, kissing her on both cheeks. Stephen poured another glass of whisky and handed it to her.

‘I came to tell you that I’ve arranged for you to visit Mary,’ Mark said as they sat down. ‘Next Tuesday afternoon. I’ll drive you there and back, if you like.’

Ginie gave him an enchanting smile and the hint of a flush rose in his cheeks. ‘Oh, you are wonderful! Let’s drink to that.’

She raised her glass. There were signs of strain on her face that made Stephen’s heart sore – a worry line between her eyebrows that had deepened into a permanent crease and a flaking, reddened patch of eczema along her jaw. She was still magnificent, still mesmerizing, but it was as though some measure of air had leaked from beneath her skin.

Ginie was asking after Mark’s family, enquiring about Jill, who had been discharged from hospital and was staying with friends in Umtali.

‘She’s doing a little better,’ said Mark. ‘Though she hasn’t set foot on the farm since the tragedy. She can’t bring herself to go back.’

‘Poor soul,’ Ginie said sadly. ‘You can’t blame her.’

‘No,’ said Mark, with a small shake of his head. ‘I don’t know if you’ve heard, but she wants to get out of Rhodesia. The farm is on the market and she’s making arrangements to go and live with her sister in England.’