Suddenly, they heard the rhythmic pound of hard boots and were met with the smell of sweat and blood. Twelve prisoners were marched by, two white policemen in front and two black policemen behind. The prisoners were barefoot and handcuffed together, struggling to keep their wrists at waist level to stop the tight metal cutting into their flesh. A car drove past them down Main Street, then another.

One of the men had an open gash across his left cheek. He stumbled and a policeman brought his baton down, just missing the prisoner’s shoulder. He flinched and cried out, his eyes met Stephen’s and the look in them was a mixture of panic and resignation.

‘Oh, Stephen,’ said Ginie, horrified, ‘What’s going on?’

‘They’re being taken to the magistrate. I expect they were visiting without passes, or owned a bicycle without lights, or some other equally petty misdemeanour.’

‘Will they be punished?’

‘They’ll have to explain themselves to the magistrate. Then, he’ll give them a small fine, with the option of prison, so they usually choose prison. After all, a ten shilling fine is no joke when your wages are only twenty or thirty shillings a month.’ He glanced up at the scarlet flowers of the flame trees that lined the wide street and could not get his head around the contrast between the beauty of Umtali and the scene they had just witnessed.

‘It’s terrible that this is going on even now,’ said Ginie, looking at the cenotaph, ‘After not one, but two world wars. Has humanity learned nothing?’

‘Apparently not.’

‘There must be a way of improving life here.’

Ginie’s brown eyes were blazing. Stephen met them and was filled with a sense of purpose.

‘I agree,’ he said. ‘Let’s look for a way to help.’

At the post office, Stephen sent a postcard to his brother, Sam:

All’s well here – still awaiting your visit. Try to come and see us in the spring – Ginie and I miss you and would so much love to see you. Write soon and let us hear the news – your letters are great highlights in our little valley.

They collected three envelopes from England and one with a local postmark written in small, square block capitals they didn’t recognise. Ginie tucked them into her handbag to read at home.