She looked at him grimly. ‘All you need to know for our relationship is that, like you, I also want to get rid of apartheid. But, no, I don’t approve of blowing up people in supermarkets either. But, yes, military installations and the like are legitimate targets.’ She paused. ‘And I have to make something very clear, Luke. If we’re going to continue our relationship, all you’ll ever know about me is as much as you need to know. And I’ll answer no other questions outside of those parameters.’ Her dark eyes grim. ‘I love you, Luke. I didn’t mean that to happen, I intended it to be just a fun thing, but then I fell in love with you. Now the only condition upon which I can continue is the need to know.’ She took a tense breath. ‘You must decide whether you can live with that.’
‘Live with that?’ He waved a hand. ‘How can any man live with not knowing whether his lover’s going to be arrested for treason? Whether she’s going to jail or the goddamn gallows!’ He frowned angrily. ‘Well I do need to know, Patti. Know what I’m up against!’
‘Plenty of people have lived with not knowing what risks their loved-ones are taking – in the French underground during the war. The Irish Republican Army. All the wives of men in the CIA and KGB and MI5.’
He closed his eyes in exasperation. ‘Patti, you’re fighting against the might of the Afrikaner government. Against BOSS. Against detention without trial. Against the Group Areas Act and the Immorality Act which makes you a subject of suspicion because of your colour – you’re not like a Frenchman in World War II who had the natural camouflage of his skin. You’re conspicuous, Patti! As if you’re wearing the uniform of the enemy! And I’m conspicuous, the moment I step out of my area.’ He glared at her. ‘You have no camouflage, Patti – if they can’t prove anything against you they lock you up without trial. And now your whole underground has just been busted. Realize that you’re on very thin ice indeed, and underneath it is very deep shit. And you expect me not to want to know? I do need to know!’
She put her hands to her face. ‘Oh, it will never work …’ Then she sobbed.
He began to get up. ‘Patti …?’
She sobbed into her hands. ‘Please don’t …’ She took a deep breath; then raised her head. The tears were running down her face. She whispered: ‘Us, darling Luke – we can’t work. I knew it all along. And I tried.’ Her lip trembled; then she swept her hand through her hair resolutely. ‘I really tried, but it all got out of control. And my heart’ she banged her breast – ‘ruled my head!’
Mahoney put out his hand.
She held up a palm. ‘Please let me finish … It’s my fault because I knew we couldn’t get away with it – I knew sooner or later we’d be found out and go to jail. But …’ Two tears brimmed down her cheeks. ‘But honest to God I didn’t think there was any danger of you being dragged into this other business. But now, of course, you want to know what’s happening, for your own sanity. But, it doesn’t work like that, darling.’ She shook her head. ‘I can tell you nothing. Because the police will be on to you, Luke. And if you don’t tell them voluntarily you’ll eventually tell them involuntarily. So the less you know, the better. That’s the way the system works, darling. And that’s why we can’t work, Luke. Because there’ll be nothing but tension, and anxiety and naked, solid fear … and suspicions.’ She stared at him, then she dropped her face in her hands again. ‘Oh God, wasn’t the Immorality Act enough to live with?’
‘Patti …’ Mahoney stretched out his hand and she got up impulsively holding her face. She walked to the window and dropped her forehead against the frame and sobbed. ‘Patti …’ Mahoney took her in his arms. He held her tight and whispered: ‘Yes, it can work.’
She rested her forehead against his shoulder and took a trembling breath; she whispered fiercely: ‘There’s only one way it could possibly work, darling Luke. And I’ve just proved that can’t either. And there’s no way I’m going to put you through it – or us.’
‘What have you just proved?’
She turned out of his arms, her face wet. ‘So the only thing to do is to quit. Now. Tonight.’
He stared at her, his knocking heart breaking.
‘What is the way that won’t work?’
She tried to wipe the tears off her face. She said resolutely: ‘We have only two options. The obvious one is to quit, right now. Quit, and never see each other again.’ Her mouth trembled.
‘And the other one?’
She closed her eyes. ‘That you play the bastards at their own bloody game. Become an informer. But feed them disinformation.’
He stared at her. Outside the night insects were crick-cricking. ‘False information?’
‘And I’m not going to allow that. I’m not going to put you through that – or me: It would be highly dangerous – I love you too much. And it would be terribly unfair on both of us. Because …’ She shook her head at him. ‘Because you’re not the type, Luke.’
‘Not the type?’
She blurted: ‘To be an activist! A spy, if you like.’ She looked at him tremulously. ‘And that’s not a criticism – very few people are. You’re too straight, Luke. And I wouldn’t put you through that torment even if you were willing. And so –’ she tossed back her hair – And so the only thing is to stop this crazy affair right now.’
Mahoney stared, his heart breaking. And there was no way he could accept that. No way could he let her walk out of his life, never see her again. And no way could they go back to the old ways either – he could not face any more of that subterfuge, he was sick of that drama, sick of South Africa and its sick laws – it was clear as day what he had to do about it. He crossed the room and took her in his arms.
‘There is a way, Patti.’ He wanted to laugh it. ‘And that is to get married, and never go back to goddamn South Africa.’ There – it was as simple and as complicated as that. He held her tight. ‘Just get married. Tomorrow. And live happily ever after – right here in Swaziland. Or in Botswana – I can get a job anywhere, and you’ve got your business.’
She had gone stock still. She slowly lifted back her head. Then she closed her eyes and burst into tears. She dropped her forehead onto his shoulder and she sobbed and sobbed. ‘Oh God why is life such a pig?!’ She banged her forehead against him. ‘A pig – pig – pig!’
‘Patti?’ He tried to lift her head and she clutched him tighter and cried: ‘Of course I want to marry you! And that’s why life’s a pig! Because how the hell can we live happily ever after in a country which forbids it?!’
‘But we’re not going to live in South Africa –’
She banged her forehead against his shoulder and cried: ‘Like hell we’re not! I refuse to run away! I want to live happily ever after right there, as is my basic human right! I refuse to let those bastards terrorize me! I refuse to be made a refugee!’ She turned abruptly out of his arms. She swept her hand through her hair and turned to face him. She said tremulously: ‘And that’s the whole crux of the matter, Luke. I love you but I can’t marry you – because I have to stay and fight.’ She looked at him, her eyes brimming. ‘And so it must end, darling Luke. It is just too dangerous. We’ve been blown wide open –
