‘You have to understand that I was never anything but a child who grew up in a family where everyone looked different … and then I was suddenly white. My grandmother had skin the colour of your cold tea there, and she told me to never tell anyone that I belonged to her … and for the longest time I did not. She said that it was only by denying her and my mother that I could have a fulfilling life. I became the daughter of Cecilia Hartley, an eccentric, once-upon-a-time suffragette who made up a vague story about a boy she loved who had come back after the war lost and broken, and who had died before he could marry her and see his daughter be born.’

Marion Hartley sat up straighter and smiled defiantly, before she carried on. ‘Cecilia was a brilliant mother to me. She gave me many things: genuine love and affection, friendship, security, freedom, happiness … and whiteness. She fostered in me a love of reading and an intellectual curiosity that I will be forever grateful for. She treated me with respect and as her equal, even when I was a child. After she enrolled me at Coghlan Primary School, she encouraged me to think for myself. She also made me enjoy life. On holidays we took trips, mostly by train. I loved her immensely. She never tried to erase or have me forget who I was. She is the one who introduced me to Zora Neale Hurston. She arranged it so that my grandmother could see me without creating too much suspicion, by having her sell wares at a concession stand at La Grange Skating Rink, where I spent every weekend.’

‘Cecilia was my mother. She gave me the Marion Hartley you see before you today … and then again, she also gave me the Marion Hartley you see before you today. It is a dual inheritance, one I have had to live with for most of my life. I love both my mothers: the one who taught me how to love and the one who taught me how not to love. I love my grandmother, who gave me the courage to see beyond my limiting horizons. I love Marion Hartley, wherever I may find her.’

She paused for some time, allowing Spokes to absorb and process all that he had heard.

‘I have always told the truth to those who mattered. I told my husband, Courteney Smythe-Sinclair, when we first met. I am telling you now because when we met before, I could tell that you knew I was keeping something from you. Now you know what it is. I told Emil that morning. It is why he left and drove to the bush … it is why he still has not returned. I always knew that he would take the news rather badly, and he did. I hope you understand why I could not tell you any of this while Kuki was there.’

‘Yes. Yes, of course.’