‘All I ever wanted. . .’ she began, but her face went blank and empty. She had forgotten what she was going to say. Then she drew a sharp breath, for Dad was gripping her wrist tightly.

‘Stop it,’ she gasped, struggling to break free. ‘Stop! You’re hurting me!’

Dad dropped it. Red marks flared on her skin and Mum massaged them with the other hand. She was shaking and her face was twisted.

‘I hate her,’ she hissed.

‘I know,’ he said. He spoke very clearly and with emphasis; each word a barb designed to hurt her as much as possible.

‘I am in love with Ginie, I can’t help myself. I would have left you in a heartbeat if she’d have me.’

Mum’s body slumped as though he had struck her and she broke into violent, shuddering sobs. I stared at her convulsing shoulders, her bloodshot eyes and ­crumpled face, sick with horror and with pity. Dad towered above her, lean and dangerous.

‘Get out,’ he said through gritted teeth, ‘get out now, or I won’t be responsible for my actions.’

She ran blindly into their bedroom. I heard a loud crash, followed by a shower of breaking glass. Moments later, she emerged with a bag. There was a desperate look on her face. She drew me to her, pressing her cheek hard against the top of my head.

‘Sweet girl. . . My sweet girl, I’m so sorry.’

And then she was gone, the front door slamming shut behind her. Not daring to look at Dad, I ran to my room. Panic seized me. I’d been treading a path and exactly where I was planning to take another step, there was now nothing. I was horrified at what my mother had done and I was terrified for her. I knew how menaced she felt by Africa – the scale of it, the extremes of weather, the black faces. . . it all filled her with dread. I didn’t know what might happen to her alone in the forest. There were animals getting ready for the night’s hunting, animals with red claws who would not leave a defenceless woman alone. And there were spirits. Mufaro had spoken of a sacred mountain not far from us that was home to the amadhlozi, the ancestral spirits of the land. Travellers lost their way on it and would wander in a trance until they were driven to death, or if they were lucky were returned, mute and blank-eyed, to their loved ones. I slunk into bed.

I don’t know how long I lay there for, tearful and sweating. I seemed to have dropped out of time. I became aware of Dad, a dark shape outlined in the doorway. He was jingling the keys to the truck in his hand.

‘Come on, Cathy, I can’t leave you here alone.’

Groggy from tears, I slowly got to my feet, assuming we were setting off in search of Mum.