‘It was told to me, by a man in Nanyuki this morning, that the bwana of Langani was making a safari business. It was told to me that there would be work with the safaris, or in the hotel that is being built. I would like to do such work. I would work very hard.’

He was articulate, Hannah thought, his words quiet but determined. He was also well informed. It always amazed her how the bush telegraph worked in this country. People seemed to glean information from the wind.

‘How did you get here, Simon?’

‘I walked,’ he said.

‘All the way from Nyeri? When did you start out?’

‘Two days ago, madam.’

Forty miles in less than forty-eight hours. God knows where he had slept, but he was clean and he gave no sign of being hot or tired. He was certainly strong, and eager too. Hannah tapped her pen on the desk, an idea forming in her mind. She read the letter from Father Caverde again, and then got to her feet.

‘Juma will take you round to the kitchen for something to eat. My brother will be back at lunchtime, but I don’t know if there is any suitable work here. The safari business has not started yet and the hotel will be very small.’

Simon went away with Juma, and Hannah sat down to think. This might prove to be perfect timing. They had been talking, only yesterday, about looking for people to work at the lodge. Piet particularly wanted to train an African assistant. She waited with impatience for him to return, but when he came in with Lars he was preoccupied.

‘We’ve got problems.’ Piet rubbed his dust-caked face with a handkerchief.

‘We went down with Kipchoge to look at the bull that got caught in the fencing,’ Lars said. ‘He’s in a poor shape, and in a very bad temper. There’s barbed wire wrapped around his leg and it’s a mess. We’ve cleaned out the wound, but the infection may have spread.’

‘He was trapped on the wire all night, and struggling,’ Piet said. ‘Unfortunately Juma didn’t notice he was missing until late this morning. I’ve phoned for the vet to come out and have a look.’

‘Worse than that, there’s a whole section of that fence down,’ Lars said. ‘It has allowed buffalo into the far pasture. Piet and I think someone cut the wire.’

‘It’s been a bugger of a job trying to get it back up again,’ Piet said, accepting a tankard of cold beer from Mwangi. ‘It’s taken us all morning, and it’s still not a hundred per cent secure. It might be the Maasai, letting their cattle in for free grazing. But it could be poachers, using the bottom pastures as a way down to the river or the swamp. There’s a herd of elephants down there, one or two with good ivory.’