‘And what will make you so famous?’ Piet was chewing on a stalk of grass, smiling at the picture she had drawn.

‘Drama school first. Then I’ll be discovered overnight by a brilliant impresario who’ll make me a star of stage and screen, with my name in lights. I’ll come back to Kenya on location and make a film. Like Grace Kelly in Mogambo. And you’ll take me and the other stars to watch the animals, from your treetop thing.’

‘What about you, Sarah?’ Piet leaned across and tickled her with a piece of coarse grass. ‘No, let me guess. Either the nuns will lock you up in the cloisters, or you’ll be a doctor like your father. That’s it! A missionary doctor in some remote place, surrounded by grateful natives who’ve been taught to say their prayers.’

‘I don’t know why you should think of me as the missionary type.’ Sarah was stung by his vision of her, so far from the picture of decadent glamour and success that he had accepted for Camilla. ‘Anyway, my brother’s studying medicine. Two doctors in the family are enough. If I pass my exams, I’m going to study zoology. At Dublin University. Then I’ll come back here to do research. On the migratory animals in the Mara and the Serengeti maybe, or the bongo in your forest that no one ever sees. Or warthogs. I love warthogs.’

‘You’ll be the terrors of the country, the three of you. Like a pride of lionesses,’ Piet said. ‘Sisters in spirit if not in blood.’

‘But we could be blood sisters.’ Sarah leaned forward. ‘Give me your knife, Piet, and we’ll each make a cut on our hands and draw some blood. Then we’ll mix it and make a promise to stick together always, to support one another through thick and thin. No matter what. We’ll be sisters in blood, in the traditional way of the Kikuyu or the Maasai.’

‘I’m not having any part in this.’ Piet shook his head. ‘It’s a weird idea for a bunch of convent ladies. Only warriors do that kind of thing. And if Pa hears about this—’

‘I can’t imagine who would tell him,’ Camilla said sweetly.

‘I don’t know, Sarah. That’s something tribal that the watu do. It’s a spooky idea.’ Hannah’s face was troubled and she looked across at Camilla, anticipating her support.

‘Oh God. You’re always so dramatic, Sarah. And fey. That’s the curse of being Irish, you know.’ Camilla sat up straight and held out her hand, palm up. ‘I think it’s a great idea. One of your better fancies. Let’s do it.’