Longing to see old friends and family was growing in him. He and Ginie couldn’t be an island forever. He was homesick for England, the long twilights and muted green fields, draught Guinness and Stilton cheese.

‘I don’t think I could face the climate again,’ said Ginie.

‘Could we try? Please, Ginie. We could pack up and leave whenever we liked.’

‘I don’t know.’

They paused, listening to baboons barking somewhere in the hills. Ginie took a cigarette from her case and put it between her lips. Stephen struck a match and lit it for her, the end glowing red in the thickening dusk. Leaning back in her chair, Ginie took a deep drag and exhaled.

‘Oh well,’ she said, flatly. ‘What does it matter where we live? Nothing we do makes any difference.’

25 Ginie, Rhodesia, 1950s

25

Ginie, Rhodesia, 1950s

Mary took Ginie for a longer walk than usual. It was cold and crisp, with a wind that smelled of grass and drying leaves. The sky was clear, cloudless. Frost filmed the lawn like a giant spider’s web, which crackled and crunched underfoot.

‘A bad thing happened last night,’ said Mary.

Ginie turned to look at her. ‘Tell me.’

‘I was walking to my house and I smelled roses, but I was upwind from the rose garden.’

‘Oh, really?’ Ginie replied with a sigh. She was tired of these ghost stories, of the staff working each other up over nothing. She had enough real problems to deal with.

‘At first, I thought my mind was playing tricks,’ Mary continued. ‘It was dark, you see, and the darkness scared me. The trees seemed to move – I had to stop and make sure they were only trees.’ She hesitated, then lifted her chin and said, ‘But the smell of roses was there – it was real. And I could feel. . . something. It’s hard to explain. The air changed. The wind was like fingers brushing my face.’ She gave Ginie a troubled look. ‘It wanted me to know it was there. It wanted. . . comfort.’

‘Oh Mary, you must be tired looking after me like this,’ Ginie said gently, ‘and with the shock of Eliot, you are probably feeling all kinds of things. I expect you need a day off. I’m nothing but a drain on you – a drain on this entire place.’ She frowned.

Mary said nothing and closed in on herself. Ginie hoped she hadn’t said anything too insensitive. They continued to walk in silence, skirting the Dell and carrying on up the driveway, towards the front gates.

‘Where are we going?’ Ginie asked, at last.