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We were watching the ten o'clock news, Vee beside me on the sofa, when I thought I saw him. Just a group shot on the red carpet at the Cannes Festival. The camera didn't linger and in a few seconds the image had disappeared. Vee, aware that something had caught my attention, raised an eyebrow.

I said, "Ntombe. There was a suggestion about the south of France, wasn't there? When he went into exile."

"I think so," she said, "but it was a long time ago. Why?"

"I thought I saw him. Even after these years, he's not easy to forget."

" Would you expect him to resurface at Cannes?"

"With his attributes, yes. Could make him very popular."

"I know what you're thinking," Vee said.

"King Dong." It was what they called him behind his back. If he knew, he didn't mind.

"Yes. King Dong." A memory had obviously sprung into her mind, too, for she allowed her hand to descend into my lap. Her fingers began to ...

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