Sarah walked out into the night. The mountain air flowed cool around her and she heard a dry cough in the distance, just beyond the boundary of the garden. Leopard! If Piet had been with her they might have gone in search of it, using the powerful lamp he kept for watching game at night.

The moon cast a bright band of light into the bedroom and there was no need for the hurricane lamp or a candle. She cleaned her teeth in the icy water and climbed into bed. Tomorrow was hours away. Her body felt fiery and tingling and impatient. How would she wait until tomorrow before seeing him again, how would she ever sleep? But the afternoon’s ride, the sherry and the wine combined to send her drifting downwards almost immediately.

She was not sure what woke her. The sound of a low voice and something like stifled laughter found their way into her consciousness. Alert and puzzled, she sat up and looked over at Camilla’s bed. It was empty. Sarah pushed her feet into her slippers and went to the window. The verandah was bathed in moonlight, cold and white. Shadows in sharp relief hoarded the night’s secrets. At the edge of the darkness Camilla was leaning against the wooden railing. Then she moved into the light with a low, soft laugh, murmuring words that Sarah could not hear. The cold air set the gum trees whispering and blew the folds of Sarah’s nightdress against her body, making her shiver. Then Piet stepped out of the shadows and caught Camilla in his arms. Sarah could see her eyes shining in the moonlight. She watched as Piet’s hand came up and touched the place where Camilla’s breasts curved beneath her sweater, saw her lean back and laugh up at him.

Sarah stood frozen in the dark, struck by a pain so fierce that she felt as though she had been stabbed. She forced herself away from the window, but even though she closed her eyes and pulled the blankets over her head, she could not banish the image of Piet’s fingers on Camilla’s face as he bent to kiss her mouth.

Chapter 3

Kenya, December 1962