Camilla’s hands trembled as she tried to take off her jewellery, but her fingers were awkward and stiff with terror. The atmosphere in the room was alive with menace.

‘Faster, Mama, or we will cut them off.’

The man spoke in a low voice, but he had raised his panga. She cried out as she saw the savagery in his eyes and he brought the long knife down sideways across her forehead. The skin broke easily. Blood ran down her face into her eyes as she blindly held out her jewellery with shaking hands. Then he lifted his foot and kicked her so hard that she fell, spread eagled, on to the carpet.

‘Get on the floor. All of you, get down.’

Hannah put up a hand to her mouth, trying to muffle a sob, and the man shouted at her in his native Kikuyu, screaming abuse. She could not understand all the words, but she felt his hatred, sensed his craving for violence as he moved towards her. She cowered down, covering her head with her arms and hands as he threw her down on to the floor beside Camilla and Sarah. They were shaking with fear as their hands were tied behind their backs, each one expecting the sharp sensation of the knife blade as the panga was raised against them.

They lay on the ground, side by side. Sarah could see the rage in Piet’s face, the veins standing out on his forehead and neck. The leader of the gang picked up a Persian rug and hurled it across the room. It landed on top of them all, leaving them choking and coughing in a fog of dust and darkness. For a long time Sarah remained still, her head turned to one side, her eyes closed, listening to the sounds of destruction all around her. Books were swept from shelves, glass crashed on to the floor around them. In the bedrooms clothing and linen were grabbed in armfuls from wooden chests that had travelled long ago on swaying ox wagons, to this untamed place of hope and renewal. Time and again they heard footsteps, stamping up and down the steps of the verandah as the contents of the house were removed. When they heard the sound of a car door slamming, and voices raised in discussion, they prayed that the raid was over. But the men returned to the house yet again, to continue their plunder.

‘Help me get free,’ Piet whispered. ‘They haven’t tied your hands so tight, Hannah. Roll closer to me, and see if you can’t undo this wire.’

‘No. If they think you’re trying to put up a fight they’ll kill you, for sure. Stay still, Piet. Please, stay still. It’s our only hope.’ She pressed her face into her shoulder to muffle any sound, trying to still her panic-ridden limbs, to stop them from shaking.

‘What happened to the staff?’ Piet’s muttered question was bewildered and furious. ‘And the dogs. They must have got rid of the dogs.’