‘Of course I refused. And I gave him a scolding for being insolent. Then I went straight over to La Rochelle. It was so hot; I was fairly melting when I got there. “What can I do for you, Jill?” she asked, without offering me so much as a glass of water. That nasty monkey was sitting on her lap and she cuddled it like a baby the whole time we talked.’

Jill’s hand went to her neck, gathered a fold of skin and tugged at it.

‘I told her about my conversation with Joshua and I asked her to stop spoiling the natives. She looked at me, as brazen as you please and said it seemed to her and Stephen that domestic workers were ridiculously underpaid. At that point, I lost my temper. I said, “You may have the money to throw about, but the rest of us don’t. You’ll cause a messy revolt that will affect us all, if you’re not careful.” And with that, I left her house. I’ll never set foot in it again.’

‘I don’t blame you,’ Mum said, soothingly. ‘I’d do the same if I could, I really would, but Mark’s advising them about their garden. We can’t afford to turn down the pay, you see.’ She smiled in nervous supplication.

‘Oh, they make me sick,’ Jill sighed deeply. ‘It’s alright for them, they can afford their liberal views.’

‘It’s true, they’re not like us. If there’s an uprising, they can just pack up and move to another country.’

‘Yes, they don’t care what happens to the rest of us.’

They fell silent. Steam rose from their mugs and dissolved in the sunlit room.

At last Jill said, ‘There must be a way of bringing them to their senses.’

6 Stephen, Rhodesia, 1950s

6

Stephen, Rhodesia, 1950s

Once a week, the Courtaulds drove to Umtali to take care of the post and to visit the bank. The road was ­beautiful and perilous; tarmac strips on a treacherous incline, full of holes and small rocks, red dust spurting up behind the car. It was bordered by low walls of yellowing grass and flowers, a pale yellow ground-­creeping flower with a spicy smell, red hibiscus and purple foxgloves.

The sky was as blue as the ocean and the hills were veiled with a thin lace of cloud. Sunlight pricked their eyes and warmed their skin. They drove with the windows open so they could feel the wind and smell the foliage.

It was twelve miles to Umtali and they drove six miles each. Ginie drove first. When it was time to change they swapped places on the blind brow of a hill. Ginie drove furiously and with one hand off the wheel, looking at whoever she was talking to. Stephen’s driving was slow and careful, his face puckered in concentration.