‘It’s probably for the best,’ Stephen chimed in. ‘We didn’t see eye to eye with the Thompsons, but I wouldn’t have wished this on anyone.’

When Mark had gone, Stephen said gently, ‘Perhaps you shouldn’t lead him on, darling. He’s like a schoolboy with a crush. Don’t give him false hope.’

Ginie blushed deeply. ‘I don’t know what you mean!’ She was laughing but clearly uncomfortable. Seeing his face fall, she hugged him and he felt the tightness around his heart ease. ‘Really, my love, you’re being silly. I need Mark to get access to Mary. He means nothing more to me, I promise you.’

37 Ginie, Rhodesia, 1950s

37

Ginie, Rhodesia, 1950s

The visitor’s room of the prison was cold and bleak. A thick smell of filth and damp hung in the air; the stink of overflowing latrines and trapped bodies. There was a tiny slot of a window just below the ceiling.

Mary sat across the table from Ginie, looking thin and ill. Her eyes were sunken and there was a yellowing bruise on her cheek. The first words from her lips were questions about her children.

‘They’re staying with Gideon and Zandile, and doing quite well,’ Ginie answered, trying to hide her shock at Mary’s appearance and to sound as cheerful as she could. There was nothing to be gained from telling Mary that her oldest girl was refusing to go to school, or that the little one had started wetting his bed. ‘You must try not to worry, though I know it must be hard. Zandile and Gideon are caring for them as if they were their own. Stephen and I will keep an eye on them for as long as they need us.’

Mary sighed. ‘Thank you, Missus Ginie.’ Her mouth worked as she struggled not to cry. ‘It means so much to hear that.’

Ginie smiled at her. ‘Let’s talk about you. How are you holding up?’

‘I am working in the laundry,’ Mary replied, ­gathering herself. ‘The work is hard, but I don’t mind. It stops me thinking.’ She coughed, a deep, scraping sound that seemed to tear at her chest. ‘We work from seven until one, then we have lunch: porridge with a few vegetables, then back to work from two until seven, then more porridge and sometimes a small cup of cocoa. They put me in solitary confinement because I won’t give them information.’

‘Oh, Lord.’ Ginie looked at her compassionately. ‘What’s it like?’

Mary sucked air between her teeth. ‘I have one blanket and only this dress,’ she answered, gesturing at her shapeless prison uniform. ‘Sometimes, they throw buckets of cold water onto the floor where I sleep to punish me.’

‘Dear God. I suppose that’s how you caught that cough.’