Camilla lay back on the bed, stroking the soft fur of Hannah’s kaross, to drive away the fear that had her in a stranglehold and would not let go. The cut was bad. She knew it would have to be stitched. It would leave a scar across her forehead. A scar that could ruin her face and maybe put paid to her modelling career. Plastic surgery. Did anyone do that in Nairobi, or would she have to fly straight back to London? But it wasn’t important for now. What mattered was that they were alive. She tried to calm herself and to rest, but the reek of violence and blood filled her nostrils. She could still see the men bursting into the sitting room, and the flash of the blade as it hurtled towards her eyes. A helpless terror had invaded her when the first shot rang out and she had believed that Piet was dead, and she could not prevent her legs from shaking as she lay on the bed. But Piet was not dead, and she said a prayer of thanks for each one of them. For a time she tried to lie still, until her head was no longer spinning and she believed that the bleeding had stopped. Then she sat up slowly. It would be better to be with the others in the sitting room. She did not want to be alone here. She never wanted to be alone again for the rest of her life.

Chapter 14

Kenya, September 1965

Hannah felt helpless. A sense of outrage made her edgy and fretful. Her secure haven had been violated, despoiled by evil, for a reason she could not fathom. She missed the dogs that had always lain at her feet in the evening, thrusting their soft muzzles into her hand. They had been found at daybreak on the morning after the attack, near the gate that led from Lottie’s garden on to the open plains. Their throats had been slit, although it was clear from the glazed eyes and obscenely protruding tongues that they had already been dying from poison. Piet had taken a shovel and buried them in grim silence. Then he had walked away to give the day’s orders to his watu, while Hannah flung a few clothes into a suitcase. He had chartered a small aircraft to fly Lars to the Nairobi hosptial, and the three girls went with him. The farewells at Langani had been quick. Camilla was ashen-faced and trying to cope with a crushing headache, while Sarah was shocked and subdued. Hannah focused her thoughts on Lars and tried to banish her feelings about the assault on her home. But on the following evening, as they gathered in the courtyard at the Norfolk Hotel to say goodbye, Hannah had begun to cry, her anguish pouring out as if something inside her had given way and could not be shored up.