Sarah saw pain in Marina’s face, and she searched frantically for some way in which she might take hold of the conversation and direct it elsewhere. But Camilla had her father’s attention, and she was determined to make the most of it.

‘They want to stay on after Independence and become Kenya citizens. But they’re worried that they’ll be forced to sell up for a pittance, or be made to give their farm over for some resettlement scheme.’

‘I don’t think you need to take on the worries of the Kenya farming community, darling.’ Marina said. ‘They’ve had plenty of good years. I’m sure the ones who know what they’re doing have been able to put away considerable amounts of money. Most of them have numbered bank accounts overseas. We don’t need to pass the hat round for them.’ She closed her eyes as if to stem any further reference to farming and politics.

‘That’s a notion widely bandied about, my dear, but it’s far from the truth,’ George said. ‘Some of these farmers are going to be in dire straits when independence comes.’

‘They’ll go and farm in England. Or somewhere rough and unpleasant, like Australia.’

‘You don’t understand the problem, Mother. These are third-generation Afrikaners. Their lives are here, in Kenya. They have nowhere else to call home.’

‘Boers. How extraordinary. I’ve heard they wear black clothes and hats, and still drive around in horse-drawn carts. Rather like those strange people in Pennsylvania who live in barns with no electricity. Would anyone care for another drink? Sally?’

‘It’s Sarah, not Sally,’ Camilla said angrily. ‘And we’re not talking about strange Americans. We’re talking about the van der Beers – my second family.’

‘Nothing more to drink, thank you.’ Now that someone had finally addressed her, Sarah rushed into the conversation. ‘These are terrific people. A wonderful family, totally dedicated, and their son hopes to take over their farm some day. They have miles of wheat and a big herd of cattle. Camilla and I have had great times there.’

‘Really? I can’t imagine Camilla as a milkmaid, although she assures us she can play any role.’ Marina smiled and lifted her wine glass with a trembling hand.

‘Jan van der Beer taught us trout fishing at Langani, and we’ve been out walking in the bush, learning to track animals and identify birds. We’ve ridden across the plains among the zebra and gazelle,’ Sarah said. ‘It’s an extraordinary place, and it would be tragic to see all that broken up and taken away from them.’

‘I never cared much for farms.’ Marina’s face had stiffened. ‘Flies everywhere when you have livestock.’ She looked straight past Sarah and addressed her husband. ‘George, I think you should ring for the car, darling.’