Viktor drew up another chair and sat down with them. There was nothing wrong with his appetite, Sarah noticed, as he worked his way through two enormous helpings of curry, washed down with considerable quantities of gin. She marvelled at how much he could eat and drink, and remain as thin as he was and apparently unaffected by the alcohol. She sipped her drink warily, afraid that too much of it in the middle of the day would make her drunk or ill, or even both. She enjoyed Viktor’s questioning, and found herself telling him and Allie about her Kenya childhood, the college years in Dublin, and her yearning to get back to Africa. She had never been able to talk freely with strangers and she was surprised at herself. Allie seemed content to take a passive role, as she sipped a second drink and smoked one of Viktor’s cigars. Perhaps it was her way of studying her new assistant, Sarah thought. But it was Allie who mentioned the prize-winning photographs. Viktor immediately wanted to see them.

‘Where are these works of art? Have you brought them with you? Allie, can she go and get them? We must see them at once. An artist and a scientist – what a combination! You have found yourself a jewel, Allie, to grace your dusty plains.’

‘I’ve seen a few of the pictures and they’re excellent,’ Allie said. ‘But if the rest are accessible, I’d like to see them too.’

At their insistence, Sarah retrieved her portfolio and handed it over shyly, nervous of their reaction. Her competition photographs were there, and the pictures she had shot on safari in Samburu. Viktor looked through them in a rare passage of silence, and then passed them to Allie without comment. Sarah’s confidence plummeted. She should never have let him talk her into showing them. What he finally said came as a surprise.

‘Now, that is an exceptional talent. What do you say, Allie? She has an eye that can capture the spirit of a man, or an animal or a place. If she can photograph your elephants like this, she will make your project world famous. And herself with it.’

‘You’re right,’ Allie said. ‘They’re high quality. Remarkable. Dan will be delighted to use work like this for our photographic records.’

‘Any technician can take a good, sharp picture,’ Viktor said. ‘But these have soul. She has made the link with her subjects, entered into the core of them. These pictures speak. This portrait, now. This portrait speaks the truth.’

Sarah stared, breathless, at the one he had selected. She had caught Piet unawares, on top of a ridge in Samburu, the evening sun gilding his hair and his face, his eyes looking up into the camera lens with humour and surprise. It was her favourite picture of him.