‘Who’s the nigger now?’ I spat at him, then threw the shovel in the ditch and walked away. I knew that was going to cost me, and for weeks I wat...hed over my shoulder at every spare moment. I lived with a half-hearted hope that he had forgotten or forgiven the whole damned thing, but I should have known better. That’s one of the most damning things about youth, you believe in things just for the sake of believing. Weeks later I was cutting the grass, lost in the smell of fresh cut grass and. Her hands held mine with a firm but gentle grip. Softly she stroked thebacks of my hands. As she did so I noticed that her nails were the samevivid blood-red colour as her lips. The room had, until now, been almostsilent. But now I became aware of other noises. Looking up in thedirection of the sound I could see that the other women were, like AuntieJune, sitting next to a boy and each of the boys were weeping indiffering ways. One was holding his head in his hands while shaking itfrom side to. More

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