‘Lars? Lars, open your eyes. Say something to me, heh? This will not be good, but you’re a brave boy.’ Hannah realised how foolish the words sounded, directed at a man whose face was beaded with sweat, and whose every breath was an intake of pain and nausea. She washed the area around the entry hole of the bullet, and made a tight wad from one of the towels, pressing it as hard as she could into the wound to stem the bleeding. He gave a cry, and Hannah bent to press her lips against his forehead. Then she bound his shoulder and chest tightly, making soothing noises as a mother would with a sick child.

The first-aid box was still in Hannah’s bathroom and Sarah began a frantic search through its contents. ‘Morphine – I suppose we need that. And sedatives.’

Camilla sat on a stool in front of the washbasin, trying to stop the blood trickling from her forehead. She pressed a band of gauze over the long gash, but her hands were shaking and she could not position it. She bent down suddenly and vomited into the bowl beside her.

‘Lie down and don’t move.’ Sarah helped her into Hannah’s bed. ‘Here’s a clean dressing. Hold it over the cut and keep up the pressure, so the bleeding will stop. And stay very quiet for the time being. There’s nothing you can do out there. Piet and Hannah are looking after Lars. And Simon will be back soon with help. Just lie still.’

‘Is Lars going to be all right?’

‘I hope so. He’s still losing blood and he’s pretty much in shock. We can’t tell what the damage is, but I’d say we need to get him to a hospital fast.’ Sarah went to the sitting room with the medicine.