‘Well … because Mrs Louisa Alcott is no stranger to us,’ the voice replied, a little too smugly for Saskia’s liking. ‘Rather sad story, really,’ the voice continued. ‘During the war, she accidentally shot her husband and killed him. Instead of going on a recce, he had gone on a weekend bender and returned home unexpectedly in the middle of the night. She thought he was an intruder. Apparently, after that she lost the plot entirely and disappeared into her own make-believe world. Judge could not even send her to prison. She spent about a year or two in the same place you did, Ingutsheni. Must have been there around the same time. I am not surprised the two of you got along, or that she seemed credible to you. I am surprised you didn’t recognise her, but then again, you were in the special ward, weren’t you? They were afraid you were going to harm yourself or those around you, weren’t they?’

Saskia did not know what to say or do in response. The voice on the other end took advantage of the situation and asked, ‘Were you telling the truth about Joseth?’

‘Yes,’ Saskia said, before hanging up the phone. She was glad he had asked the question about Joseth Maraire because that made her realise that Clement Rutherford was also just a jumble of small things.

Louisa Alcott had called Saskia because she had news to share and Saskia worked for a newspaper. Louisa Alcott had made herself pretty and had been the perfect hostess. Saskia had taken pictures and promised to have them printed in the paper, along with the story. Saskia would keep her promise. She would tell the story of how Louisa Alcott had seen Emil Coetzee, alleged by the SIU to have been murdered by Golide Gumede, driving his beige bakkie towards the City of Kings.

‘Do I have your permission?’ Saskia asked the editor as she stood in his doorway. She had told him everything that Louisa Alcott had told her and none of what Clement Rutherford had said.

‘Of course,’ the editor said enthusiastically.

‘We could get into some real trouble with the authorities,’ Saskia half-heartedly cautioned.

‘Authorities are in the process of changing. And besides, we’ve toed the party line long enough,’ the editor said.

The story, or at least its first three paragraphs, appeared on the front page of The Sunday News and continued, accompanied by the pictures, on the third page.

When Saskia’s phone rang on Monday morning and a woman’s voice on the other end asked to speak to her, she thought that it was Louisa Alcott, Mrs, and was therefore very surprised when the voice said, ‘It’s Marion Hartley and I am calling to enquire about this piece you have written about someone sighting Emil Coetzee.’ Saskia waited for the emotions she thought she felt towards Marion Hartley to surface – resentment, jealousy, anger – but none of them did.