With reluctance Camilla began to describe the nightmare at Langani. She could see no way out, although she feared that each word would bring out Marina’s inevitable anger at the idea of a visit to the van der Beers’ farm. She chose her words carefully, speaking slowly and pressing the palms of her hands together to keep them from trembling. A surprising sense of relief surged through her as she recounted the incident aloud for the first time. In describing those hideous hours she began to define within herself what she felt about them, and how she might come to terms with the churning, relentless tumult of shock and anxiety that had become a part of her. Sleep had proved impossible without the little pills. Each time she closed her eyes, she could see the man standing in front of her and the panga rushing towards her face. In the dark every small sound pierced her consciousness, bringing her to a state of fearful alert. Several times, as she described the ordeal to Marina, she put her hand up to her face, feeling again the warm trickle of blood that had blinded her and filled her with sickening panic. Perhaps this telling of the nightmare would be cathartic, and would free her of the awful visions that leapt into her mind whenever she closed her eyes.

‘But what about your forehead?’ Marina said. ‘Would it not have been wiser to wait, and have it seen to here?’

‘The doctor in Nanyuki said he’d have to stitch me right away, otherwise the cut would never close properly. He explained that it would all have to be taken care of again, in Nairobi or London or somewhere. He was very kind, and he gave me painkillers and tranquillisers.’

‘Oh God, darling.’ Marina was crying. ‘You were so brave.’

‘Everyone was. Sarah and I flew back on the same plane last night. She offered to stay, but I told her to go on to Ireland. I just wanted to sleep, you know. But it’s hard, because I’m still so nervous.’

‘And the men who attacked you?’ Marina asked. ‘Does anyone know who they were?’

‘No, not yet. The investigation has only just started, so there was nothing to report when I left.’ She stopped, drained from the telling of the story, frightened by the vivid images that had flashed through her mind as she was talking.