The kestrel was in the sky again, hovering, watching, ready to plummet down on to its next target. Hannah stood up. She would not be the mouse, the powerless prey. She would be the hunter – go after what she wanted, watch, wait for her opportunity, then swoop in and carry off her prize. She would stick it out, get qualified, and prove to Piet that she wasn’t a self-indulgent whiner. She would show him, she would show them all.

Two months went by, and she studied with a new determination. In the evenings she helped Lottie in the house and tried not to allow Pa’s moods to get to her when he was at home. It was hard. Her father had always been interested in everything she did, quizzing her about her studies or her sports achievements. Now he never asked her anything. She felt sometimes that he could not bear to look at her, for fear of what he might find in her eyes. Often when she came back from the college and walked into the room, he would get up and shuffle off to his bedroom or out on to the verandah, staying there till the meal was ready. She wished there was something she could say or do to tell him that she loved him, but she was not sure any more if she did. How could you love someone whose actions had put in jeopardy the happiness of your whole family?

Lottie had started sewing. She had always been a fine needlewoman, and now she took in orders from neighbours to try and eke out their income. She also made jams and sold them in the market on Saturdays, and baked pastries and cakes for a local café. These days she looked tired all the time, but she still flashed her bright smile for the customers who bought produce from her stall. Back home, though, the smile was strained. Hannah felt increasingly ashamed as she watched her mother taking on all these extra tasks, while her pa sat over the kitchen table with his beer or whisky, whenever he was there. He went out in the mornings to check the crop and the tobacco sheds, returning at lunchtime red-faced and sweating, reaching for another bottle, cursing the kaffirs who toiled in the fields. At Langani he had always treated his workers well. Here he was belligerent and unreasonable, and the men did not meet his eye as he shouted his orders. When he was out on patrol, Hannah felt guilt at her relief in his absence, and a dull fear for his safety. Once, he had been shot at, and the truck he used was still punctured by bullet holes.