He swallowed. ‘Part of me didn’t want to report Mary because I know what she means to you. I struggled with myself, but in the end, I had to do the right thing.’

Ginie said nothing. She was deeply disappointed in him and disgusted with herself for her fleeting surrender to temptation. How could she have been so inconsistent and foolish?

‘Tell me you understand,’ he begged.

Wincing, she closed her eyes. If only you had looked the other way.

Mark, panicked by her lack of response, gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles went white.

‘Prisoners in solitary aren’t supposed to have visitors,’ he said hoarsely, desperately. ‘I had to pull a lot of strings to get you in.’

‘I know,’ she said, but it came out more coldly than she had intended, so she added hastily, ‘and I appreciate it.’

He didn’t answer. Stealing a glance at him, she saw his body bent over the wheel in a dejected curve, his features pale and set. The cold knot of revulsion in her chest dissolved and she felt bitterly sorry for hurting him.

38 Catherine, Rhodesia, 1950s

38

Catherine, Rhodesia, 1950s

My father came home from taking Ginie to the prison and there was lipstick on his shirt.

‘What is that?’ My mother’s voice rose in disbelief and her mouth contorted as if she had a pain somewhere. ‘Did you kiss her?’

He stared at her, puzzled. ‘What are you talking about?’

Then, following her pointing finger, he saw the stain. He tried to rub it off, but only succeeded in smudging it, which made it look worse.

‘Don’t go putting two and two together and making five,’ he warned. His voice had an edge I hadn’t heard before. ‘Ginie was upset by the visit and I comforted her. There’s nothing more to it, so leave it alone.’

But Mum wouldn’t leave it. Recriminations poured from her mouth like bile. Dad slammed his fist on the table, cutting her off mid-sentence. The sound was loud as a gunshot in our small living room. Mum was stunned and shrank away from him.

‘That’s enough!’ His face had turned an ugly shade of red. ‘Cathy, you shouldn’t be listening to this. Go to your room at once.’

Reluctantly, I did as I was told. Though by kneeling on the floor with my ear pressed against the wall, I could hear them quite well.

‘I’m having a hard enough time without your nonsense,’ Dad told her.

‘You’re having a hard time,’ she spat, bitterly.

‘Yes.’

‘In what way?’

‘Well, for one thing, I’ve got nothing useful on Stephen,’ he sighed. ‘Oh, other than the fact that he wrote a cheque to Sithole, and it was cashed. But nothing else.’

‘So?’