Saskia woke up screaming as she opened her eyes to early morning light washing over a serene and subdued suburban street. Just as she was re-familiarising herself with her surroundings, she saw Marion Hartley’s gate swing open and Emil Coetzee’s beige bakkie drive out. Saskia was a little surprised when he did not get out of his car to close the gate behind him, but was very grateful when the car turned not towards 3rd Street but towards Selborne Avenue, because she had not even had the presence of mind to hide from him. Given the direction he was taking, he was probably on his way back to The Tower, where he would do horrible things to people … or had he stopped doing those things now that the ceasefire had been called? What would a man like him do now that the war was over? What could a man like him do now that the war was over?

As though she was the answer to these questions, Marion Hartley appeared at the gate. She was dressed in a lacy, light and flowing nightdress with matching gown, her hair tied back with a scarf – and even in the morning light she looked not altogether real, as ethereal as an apparition. But Marion was no vision; she was a woman, just as she, Saskia, was also a woman.

That said, there were some women, as far as Saskia was concerned, who were just too content with the hand that fate had dealt them. These women needed to learn some hard truths about life and its cruel nature. Marion Hartley was one such woman, Saskia decided, as she watched her standing in the light of morning, looking like a fragile flower, hugging herself to keep warm in the still cold air.

For a long moment after the beige bakkie had disappeared around the corner of Selborne Avenue, Marion Hartley stood there immobile as though hoping that the car would reappear. Saskia had relaxed into watching this scene when, without warning, Marion Hartley turned and looked straight at the lime-green Renault 5, which, Saskia knew, was made even more conspicuous by the army-green horizontal elongated Z that ran along its sides.

Marion Hartley hesitated and then started making her way towards the car, craning her neck, trying to see who the driver was. Saskia clutched the steering wheel with one hand while the other fitted the key into the ignition. Adrenaline made her shake so uncontrollably that she almost dropped the keys before the car, after a few false starts, revved to life and carried her away from Marion Hartley and her curiosity.

Saskia was sure that Marion Hartley had no idea that Zora Neale Hurston existed. She was sure that Marion Hartley imagined, as most of the City of Kings imagined, that she had tamed Emil Coetzee and made a ne’er-do-well suddenly do well. Saskia smiled to herself when she thought of the hurt Marion Hartley would feel upon discovering that she was not the love of Emil Coetzee’s life. She would be crushed by the knowledge of Zora Neale Hurston. She would join good company, of course; Kuki Coetzee and countless other women had all loved Emil Coetzee to their own detriment.