In the room they had always shared Camilla remained awake, staring into the darkness and the pinpoints of starlight beyond the window panes. For the first time since she had left school she said a silent prayer, wishing for Sarah to be happy, and for Hannah to find her way through all the sorrow and change she had traversed with such courage. It was only a few hours now until Anthony arrived, and Camilla felt a tight pain and hammering excitement at the idea of touching him, kissing him, making love with him, and afterwards listening to his breathing as he slept. She lay without speaking to Sarah, because there was no need for words. They were back at Langani, and all that they had dreamed about in the years away seemed possible once more.

She knew now that her real home was not in any of the great cities of Europe. There was no need to be in London. Success had come to her easily and with dizzying speed, but she realised that it was hollow, that it had eaten away at her spirit. She had tasted the swinging cities and bright lights, seen what they had to offer, often through a trancelike haze of sweet-smelling smoke or the bottom of a cocktail glass. She was famous, flattered and pampered wherever she went. The allure of an acting career had faded with the advent of her easily won fame, and now she was ready to move on, away from it all. She had not yet worked out how she could stay here in Kenya, or what she might do, but there would be time for that when she saw Anthony. There would be time for everything that was really important. Meanwhile, she had better get a good night’s sleep or she would look like shit in the morning.

When dawn filled the bedroom with saffron light they were already awake. On the edge of the horizon, the mountain stood proud and silent, dark in outline and then fading and retreating into a blue haze as the sun rose in the wide eternity of the African sky. Mwangi served them pawpaw and juicy limes, then fresh coffee and steaming bowls of porridge swimming in thick cream from Hannah’s dairy.

‘I tell you, those cows have produced more milk and better cream than ever before, since the day I took over,’ Hannah said proudly. ‘It’s true, isn’t it, Lars?’

‘It’s something she says to them.’ Lars smiled ruefully. ‘I think they don’t speak Norwegian too well, and I’m not so great in Afrikaans. But I can chase the crowned cranes out of trampling the wheat, when they start their mating dance. And I certainly know the right words to scare off a buffalo. I can swear in Kikuyu and Maasai too, at those bastards that keep stealing our fencing wire.’