‘Do you remember the last time we had dancing here?’ he said. ‘When Camilla was teaching Lars how to do the twist. Remember that? So, what can have happened to her? She wouldn’t have let us down. I think her father has chosen to ignore us, like all the rest of them. She knew how much we were depending on her, but she’s caught between her father and us. Or she has a problem with that gash on her head. It’s so awful to think of her being marked for life. I know you tried to talk to her before you left. Maybe she’s out of work, or scared or depressed and you should have gone there. To see if she was all right. Poor Camilla, she—’

His words triggered in Sarah the nagging guilt she already carried. Insecurity and frustration erupted in helpless rage.

‘Bloody Camilla! It’s always been Camilla and what she’s thinking or doing! No doubt she’s in some nightclub in London right now, drinking champagne and draping herself around some horny photographer! When are you ever going to see that she doesn’t give a damn about any of us? The only one she wanted was Anthony, and that’s probably because he never got caught in her trap. Why can’t you ever see past the end of your nose? I’m sick of hearing about Camilla and what she might or might not do! I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you. I’d have done anything for you. You were only too ready to declare your love for her, but you haven’t said you love me. Even on the ridge, when you kissed me, you didn’t say it. And you couldn’t say it was over – this Camilla thing.’ Through the humiliating tears that blurred her vision she could see Piet’s astonished expression, but it only fuelled her anger. ‘You can keep holding your flaming torch for Camilla, then. I never could compete with her. But I tell you this – what I had to offer you, if you had wanted it, would never have let you down, or shamed you or used you. Never!’

She broke off, horrified at what she had said. But there was no taking it back. Piet was gaping at her, dumb with surprise.

‘Oh shit!’ Sarah spun away from him, shouting into the night. ‘Shit and bugger and bollocks!’ She heard him make a strangled sound and spun round, blazing with defiance. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t usually swear. The truth is I love you, Piet van der Beer. I love you, and I don’t mind who hears me say it. But I’m no match for cool, blonde Lady Camilla. So I’ll just bugger off to Buffalo Springs in the morning, and you can go back to being a stupid farm boy, as you said!’