She said nothing further. They sat in silence. Night was closing in, easing out the twilight that seemed to have lasted so inordinately. He took her hand. She sighed and squeezed his hand. She made as if to speak, but she only sighed once more. Her mind seemed to be heavy and far away. He watched her statuesque profile against the dying light: the long, uptilted nose, the full lips now slightly compressed, the hair, the chin, the cheek.

She turned and looked at him. ‘There is something I ought to tell you, something I think you should know.’

She sounded so serious; he felt cold all of a sudden. ‘Tell me.’

‘Today Ngai asked me to marry him.’

Ngai. He had heard her mention the name before. The man who always brought her to the hospital in the big car. He recalled the greying hair, the snub nose, and the eyes that seemed so sure of their authority, eyes that would never quit short of the set goal.

‘I was going to ask you the same thing.’

Her eyes bored into his. She shook her head. ‘Oh Lomba, be serious.’

‘But I am perfectly serious. Look at me, Alice. I’ve always loved you, even after I left school. I never stopped loving you. Do you remember what I told you that night in your room, when I spent the night in your room? I told you you were my ideal person. I think of that night whenever I hear Percy Sledge playing. Don’t you remember that night whenever you play that song?’

‘It was a long time ago, Lomba. Besides, I don’t play those records any more, I gave them all away.’

Suddenly Lomba felt deflated, as if this one admission had foreclosed any chance of his ever regaining her love. His one trump card had been thrown back in his face. She did not listen to soul music any more.

He went on, but only as a drowning man flailing about, clutching at straws. ‘Since that night, no single day ever passed without something bringing you to my mind. All my poems are dedicated to you. And when I saw you again I felt it was providence bringing back to me the only thing that had ever made me happy, I…’

‘Stop, Lomba, stop, please.’ Her look was anguished; her hands were raised, as if to ward off the dart points of his words.

He stood up and paced the small space in front of the log. ‘Why should I stop? I have waited so long to say all these things; I might as well say them now, because after today it may be too late. I have waited, Alice, so long.’

‘But you don’t understand. What you are asking is not possible.’