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Nzinga was cooking, Dominique had been lying on the sofa staring emptily at the clouds moving in the sky

it was Amma standing before her, delighted to see her

fucking hell, Dominique shouted, it was so good to see her, they collided in a hug

I was so worried about you, Dom, one postcard when you arrived and that was it, you never answered my letters

what letters? Dominique was about to say when Nzinga appeared behind her and asked why she’d invited this person to stay?

she hadn’t, Dominique answered, cringing, isn’t it great Amma’s here?

Nzinga said nothing, returned to the kitchen, resumed cooking

undeterred by Nzinga’s rudeness, Amma marched into the main area of the open plan living room cum kitchen and inspected it as if expecting to see corpses hanging from the beams by meat hooks

she flung her knapsack on the floor, threw herself on to the sofa, I’m parched, Dom, gimme a tonic water with ice and you can throw vodka in it as well, you know the drill

Dominique had to explain the house was an alcohol-free zone, as she poured Amma water from the filtered jug

since when, Amma asked (with her face)

Nzinga created an atmosphere glutinous with tension as she silently prepared a thick, garlicky bean and mushroom stew which she served with wholemeal bread

on the wooden dining table – a bench either side

Nzinga looked down at her food as she ate, Dominique could tell Amma found the meal unpalatably bland, she’d asked for salt, there was none

by now Dominique was almost used to a salt and spice-free diet, the initial cravings had gone, her appetite had adjusted its expectations

she asked her friend about everyone back home, eager to know the goss, careful not to show any affection for those she’d left behind, or regret at leaving them

Amma volleyed back a few questions about life at Spirit Moon

Dominique told her they work on the building site five days week, sometimes six, spend evenings back here, often exhausted, Nzinga cooks up a storm in the evenings, early nights usually, weekends they go shopping and for walks, they have a vegetable garden which needs tending, read books – by women, it goes without saying, preferably feminist, sometimes they see a film in town, walk out if it’s offensive

she wanted to add – it’s a bit like you and I in our early theatre days, Amma, except we never left a show that offended us without heckling, she didn’t say this, Nzinga would feel undermined, Dominique would be accused of elevating her bolshie history of heckling with Amma over their relatively passive cinema walk-outs

Dominique answered Amma’s questions, no, they didn’t mix with the other women in the community, preferring not to get involved, and yes, life was quiet, how they liked it, it was perfect, that’s what it was, perfect

as she spoke, Dominique was embarrassed by how pathetic and puritanical her life sounded, how devoid it was of the happenings of back home, the never-ending dramas of relationships and the women’s scene, the highs and lows of running a theatre company, the city itself, the politics, the demonstrations against Maggie Thatcher, protests against Clause 28, marches to Reclaim the Night, weekends spent at Greenham Common, their outlaw friends who were involved in ‘lost’ cheque-book scams, who lined their shopping bags with silver foil to avoid alarm detection in department stores, who jumped over ticket barriers at tube stations and jumped traffic lights as a rule

it felt so long ago, so far away

the year spent with Nzinga had been without regular updates to Amma, who would have questioned and challenged her on everything

she was her sounding board, her truthsayer, her Number One supporter

Nzinga only looked up when she’d finished eating, gonna hit the sack, she took the pottery bowl to the metal sink and before she reached it, hurled it in with such force, it smashed and shards flew out

she brushed past Amma as she stormed across the floor to the bedroom, Sojourner, you coming?

who’s Sojourner? Amma asked as Dominique leapt up

Dominique didn’t answer as she left the room

it was seven p.m.

the next morning Dominique found a chance to sit with her friend on the steps outside while Nzinga was in the shower

she takes ten minutes, Dominique said, glancing nervously behind her, it’s a ritual she won’t forgo, even with you here

Amma suggested they take a walk away from the madhouse, Dominique said the stoop would have to do otherwise Nzinga would get suspicious

suspicious of what?

7

The field opposite the cabin that morning was of the most vivid-green ryegrass as it extended all the way out of sight to the end of the property

a pine forest was visible in the distance, the sky was a heavenly, cloudless blue

Dominique was proud to show off the view to Amma who knew her London flat so well, with windows that backed on to a pub’s blackened walls and belching water pipes

surely Amma would be convinced she’d made the right move in at least one respect – this is paradise, right?

Amma mumbled something about the right place with the wrong person and complained about the godawful cup of dandelion ‘coffee’ she’d been forced to drink as the real thing wasn’t allowed, and she now had a banging caffeine withdrawal headache barely numbed by the painkillers Nzinga had caught her popping out of their plastic casing at breakfast, who then proceeded to tell Amma off for bringing drugs into her home

the only words she’s spoken to me so far, Dom

they sat there for a moment, soaking it up, Dominique wondering when Amma was going to kick off

she didn’t disappoint, launched into one about her friend being under the Evil Cindy’s spell and did she know that cult gurus controlled their followers by cutting them off from their family, friends, colleagues, neighbours, anyone who might intervene and say, hey, what’s happening here?

I’m going to organize a rescue attempt, Dom, a group of mates from London who’ll descend like an SAS squad and rescue you from Batshit Crazy Cindy

she laughed, Dominique didn’t

I’m in the middle of something, Ams, I’m trying out a new way of living, a new way of being, Nzinga is showing me how to live a truly womanist life, male energy is disruptive, Amma, the patriarchy is divisive, violent and authoritarian, misogyny is so unthinkingly entrenched I can see why women give up on them for ever, it’s so special here, so liberating to be removed from having to deal with male oppression every day

I’ve always known you to like men, Dom, we even love those who are close to us, we might understand the patriarchy (thanks for telling me how it works by the way), but we see men as individuals, don’t we? you were never separatist or misandrist, what’s happened to you?

nothing’s happened to her, Nzinga’s voice boomed over their heads, she’d been standing behind them

she wedged one damp, muscular leg between the women, and then the other, effectively separating them physically – they’d been linking arms

Nzinga plonked herself down in the space she’d created, was wearing a towel, still dripping wet, launched into a speech about all men ultimately being complicit in a patriarchal system that enabled female genital mutilation and seeing as women’s genitalia are being butchered all over the globe in the name of culture or religion or whatever, why not do the same to men who perpetrate most of the world’s sexual violence? bank their sperm when they’re virile teenagers then castrate the bastards

Nzinga pressed herself up against Dominique, an arm around her neck

it felt less like a sign of affection

more like a strangling

Amma stood up, went into the house, packed her carry-all, returned to stand in front of them

I’m off, back home, your home too, Dom, come with me

Dominique didn’t need rescuing, she shook her head