As soon as the words came out she regretted them, but she was smarting at his cruelty. She slammed the door of the flat and went back out into the street. The pain of his remarks dogged her footsteps as she tramped along the pavement. She found a bench and sat down, drawing her jacket around her. Tim’s words churned in her mind, but she was determined not to be infected by his brutal analysis of her motives. She would talk it over with her mother during the next few days. She was tired of being a pawn in other people’s lives, and she deserved this one chance to go back to the place she loved. With a sigh she walked back to the flat, resolved to give her parents all the support they required. But Camilla’s proposal was still lodged in the forefront of her mind.

On the day after her parents’ arrival in Dublin she read the announcement in the newspaper. Sarah Mackay had won five hundred pounds for her portraits of the residents in St Joseph’s Shelter. The pictures were to be exhibited for sale in a smart gallery in Wicklow Street. When Mike Daly rang to congratulate her, she hung up on him. Then she booked rooms at a five-star hotel, and took her father and mother and her brother to Connemara for the weekend.

Chapter 10

Kenya, June 1965

Hannah ordered a shandy and turned her attention to Fred Patterson. He had been her tennis partner for the afternoon and they had won the mixed doubles. Now he wanted her to stay on for the Saturday-night party at the club. She had anticipated this, and before leaving Langani she had sneaked a bag with fresh clothes and shoes and perfume into the boot of the car. She knew Piet would not approve.

‘You’re spending too much time at the club,’ he objected. ‘The petrol is expensive, and so is the wear and tear on Ma’s old car. We’ve got to keep it going for a while longer, Han. You can’t use it like a private limousine. Plus there are all the chits you sign for food and drinks. You’re carrying on like an Englisher memsahib with nothing to do except give the houseboys orders, and spend your time playing bridge or tennis. There’s serious work for you here, at Langani.’

‘I don’t want to be in your office all day,’ Hannah said angrily. ‘I’ve spent the last two years cooped up in a miserable dump while you were here on the farm, or having a great time in Scotland, or fooling around in London with Sarah and Camilla. Now you’re out somewhere all day, planning your lodge or driving the tractor or planting wheat with Lars. And I’m still shut away. It’s not fair.’