BOOK 4

'You know what kids are,' he went on evenly.

Yes, she knew. 'But why?' Remembering her thoughts of a moment ago, she glanced again at the little figure on the desk. 'I can see now that you do look Malian in some ways . . .'

'Peule,' he put in absently.

Amy stared at him in bewilderment. 'Pearl? What on earth . . .'

'Or Fulani. It's the name of our particular African race.'

'I see.' She nodded sideways at the statue. 'Like that?'

'That's a stylized version of how a lot of us look, yes.'

'But not you, or only in -' she paused, looking for the right phrase - 'in sort of secondary ways. And you're no darker than many Europeans,' she added, remembering what he had just told her, 'so why Darky?'

'My father came to visit me once, early on.'

'And?'

'He's ... he was,' Paul corrected himself, 'much darker than me.'

'Little beasts. And Owen?' she asked. 'Inky?'

'From the day he started, he was Chinky.'

Amy silently contemplated the boundless cruelty of children.

'So we got together and worked ou