It is, on Tuesdays.’

‘Why don’t you try and get another day as well? It’s useful, meals-on-wheels, and you always say how much the old people appreciate it.’

Sarah laughed without humour. ‘If you must know they frequently say the food’s disgusting, we’re late in coming and why don’t we supply beer. And half the old boys make suggestive remarks. I’m surprised you think it’s a suitable occupation for me at all.’

Sarah, try not to snap in front of the children,’ remonstrated Douglas, pointedly lifting his paper. Nonetheless he popped a kiss on to her silent but furious head as he left.

The children were quiet on the way to school, Joanne trying to escape from her seat belt and Emma unravelling her hem by means of a piece of dangling thread.

‘Stop it, Emma, don’t you care if you arrive in rags?’ snapped Sarah, catching sight of her in the driving mirror, and watched her small daughter look crushed. In a family which almost never rowed a disagreement such as this morning’s was traumatic. When they parted she gave them each an extra big hug.

‘I’m sorry I was cross. I won’t be tonight, I promise.’

The little girls flung their arms around her and clung, bringing tears to her eyes. She hurried off, gulping.

*   *   *

The phone was ringing as she let herself back into the house. It was her mother.

‘Darling, the most terrible thing has happened.’

Sarah’s mind spun wildly. Surely next door’s cat hadn’t dug up yet another row of her mother’s carrots? ‘Mmmmm?’ she replied non-committally, knowing it would infuriate her mother.

‘Sarah, don’t you care about your sister? There’s been a revolution!’

‘What? In Zimbabwe? Mother, are you sure?’ Sarah looked desperately round to see if she could catch sight of the paper. A revolution in an erstwhile colony would certainly make headlines.

‘Of course I’m sure, although why they can’t call it Rhodesia like they used to I shall never know. Not there though, next door. In Mandoto. It was on the radio.’

‘Oh. There. Well, I suppose it will mean refugees and things. What has it got to do with Susie?’

‘It is right next door! God knows what might be happening, shelling and rockets, they might even cut food supplies, and there is Susie, pregnant, alone, in the midst of it. I don’t know when I’ve been so worried.’ Mrs Melling dissolved into hiccupping sobs.

‘Now, now, Mother, there’s no need to get in a state,’ soothed Sarah, wondering why she sounded so like Douglas. ‘Africa’s much bigger than you think it is. Susan has Jerry with her, they live in a town and I’m sure the mining company will fly them out if there’s the least danger.’

‘It’s all right for you with Douglas to take care of you but Jerry’s not at all reliable. He should never have taken her there in the first place, everyone knows what happens to decent people in these revolutions and the baby’s due in eleven weeks’ time. I’ve tried to phone the Embassy but the line’s engaged and you know how hard it is to phone Susie. I don’t know which way to turn.’

‘Look, why don’t you let me deal with it,’ soothed Sarah. ‘You go out to lunch with Madge, somewhere quiet and sunny, and during the day I will try and telephone Susie. I’m sure I’ll be able to find out something.’

‘Well, that’s very kind of you, dear, but I do wish you’d ask Douglas. He knows about these things and when he rings up people make an effort. So ask Douglas, darling, please.’

Sarah promised that she would and put down the phone. At least she had been spared the horror of telling her mother about the art course, although she felt a familiar annoyance at having her own offer of help so summarily rejected. Only Douglas could do anything, only Douglas could help.