At the university there were rumours that Rika and Aaron had been seen coming out of a hotel room, or buying airline tickets. Ridiculous rumours. It didn’t matter that none were true, or that Aaron and Rika were never alone, for those who judged them saw what they feared, and wanted, to see.

Alex Penrose confronted Aaron in his office. He walked in, closed the door and told Aaron that Leonard was greatly respected in Oxford and Canberra. All this talk might reflect badly on Aaron’s career. One day he’d be needed to head up the department, or the university; he should consider these things.

‘I know,’ Aaron replied, opening the door. His professor had already said the same thing.

‘BE CAREFUL,’ LAEDI SAID. IT WAS ONE OF THE FEW TIMES SHE’D BEEN to Rika’s house since Don’s return. Term had started, Aaron hadn’t been back to the beach; Rika had barely seen him except at the library. And still there was whispering talk. Laedi’s eyes were puffy and she was wearing a drab pregnancy smock.

‘Are you saying I shouldn’t see him?’

‘I’m saying you should be careful.’

‘Do we have to be careful of nothing? There’s nothing to be careful of. Nothing.’

They were in the kitchen. Rika, in an apron, was cooking fish curry. Aaron was coming to dinner, and so were Sam and Wana, Pete and Martha, Aro. She was making a statement, refusing to be cowed. She’d grown up on stories of the war and people who’d hidden Jews in their attics. Several times her father had kept people overnight at the museum. If he could do that, she could do this. ‘It’s a meal, that’s all.’ Her chin was out.

‘Don’t think I disapprove,’ Laedi said. ‘It’s not that. I don’t want you hurt because you don’t understand how vicious this place can be.’

‘I’ve seen the letters in the papers. And Gina’s told me about the White Women’s Protection Ordinance. Wana says it’s a white-man fantasy that white women are irresistible to Papuans.’

‘That’s her being naïve. Or hopeful. White people are powerful. It gets into our fantasies. Why do you think I married Don?’

‘This isn’t a fantasy,’ Rika said. ‘And it’s got nothing to do with the colour of our skins.’

‘Now you’re being naïve. Or stupid.’

‘Do you think of me as white?’

‘Of course I do.’

‘I think of you as Laedi, not white, not black.’

‘There you are. You think of me as mixed race. Half-caste.’

‘No, I don’t. I think of you as you.’

‘And that’s who I am. Always wrong. Black when I should be white.’ A deep flush spread across her face. ‘White where I should be black.’

‘What’s Don done? What’s he done to you? Laedi?’

There was a long pause. Laedi looked at Rika, and her eyes filled with tears. ‘He says I’m a white cunt.’ Her voice was quiet. ‘He yells it at me, so Tamba hears. And Bili.’ Barely audible. ‘He hates me for it. Says that all the things that should be white about me are black, and the one thing that should be black is white.’ Tears were dripping onto her horrible, servile smock.