Mark drained his glass before he spoke. ‘You see, the Africans farm by working on a patch of land until it is depleted and then moving to the next. I think we could teach them better farming practices.’

‘But Mark,’ said Guthrie, ‘the Africans have farmed for hundreds of years before colonialism. What can you do for them that’s an improvement?’

‘Well, we could share our knowledge of modern farming techniques, like water management and soil conservation. And we could show them the new technologies in modern farming – about mechanics, how to use and maintain the machines, that kind of thing.’

Stephen made a steeple of his fingers and rested his chin on them. ‘Go on.’

‘I’ve often wished I had the means to set up a school for practical training in agriculture. It would benefit the white farmers too, so everyone would gain.’

‘It’s a wonderful idea!’ exclaimed Ginie.

‘Yes, I think it could work,’ agreed Guthrie.

‘Where might such a school be built, and who could get it going?’ asked Stephen.

‘I have a location in mind. . . if you like, I could ­introduce you to the right people,’ Mark replied.

As Mark was speaking, it dawned on Stephen that Diana hadn’t said anything for several minutes. He turned to her and asked what she thought. Her eyes as they met his were blank, as though she had retreated to a place deep inside herself.

‘Do you know how hard it is being on my own all day, with nothing to occupy my mind? I’m nearly at the end of my tether. And now you’re going to start doing something else, so you’ll be away from home even more,’ she said, stiffly.

The others stared at her in surprise.

‘You don’t understand,’ she groaned, hopelessly. ‘You don’t know what it’s like.’ She rubbed her hands over her thighs in hard, agitated movements until Guthrie gently took them in his.

‘You caused poor Diana some fearful feelings running off to the Dell with her husband,’ Stephen said to Ginie later that night. Ginie, wearing an ivory silk nightgown, was brushing her hair at her dressing table. Stephen looked at her back and shoulders, lightly tanned, straight and smooth.

‘Oh, Stephen, don’t be absurd. The poor creature’s clearly going off her head, but not because of anything I’ve done.’

Stephen sighed, but did not answer. It was very humid. The top of his head felt as though a weight were pressing on it. Sweat collected into drips down his back, gluing his shirt to his skin. Setting down her brush, Ginie turned to face him.

‘You know Mark means nothing to me,’ she said softly.

‘That may be, but don’t forget that your actions have an impact on other people. What’s more, we need their help and goodwill if we’re to press ahead with something like the farming school.’