‘We’ll be posted after Independence. There’s no doubt about that,’ George said. ‘But for the time being, don’t ruin this bond Camilla has with her friends. That school was good for her. And we owe a debt to the van der Beers.’

‘She should have gone to Cheltenham, like I did. Instead you chose a bourgeois little convent in the middle of Africa. What is she going to do next year, in Europe, where she doesn’t know anyone in the right set? And look at her friends, for heaven’s sake.’

‘What’s wrong with them?’

‘We’ve just had a week of that plain little girl whose father is some provincial doctor. A nobody. I can only thank God we haven’t had the farm girl foisted on us as well. At least Camilla had more sense than to ask me if she could come to stay. And now you’re being asked to rescue a Boer who probably can’t speak recognisable English, and has never read a book in his life. It just won’t do, George.’

‘Christ Almighty, Marina, there can’t be anyone else alive as bigoted as you are.’

‘I certainly don’t have sufficiently liberal ideas for your preferred lifestyle. You’re never prepared to admit how sickening your—’

‘Shut UP.’ George’s words came through gritted teeth and there was a crash as he slammed a table. ‘Shut up, or leave me once and for all, so that we can stop torturing each other. I’m doing all I can, and I can’t take any more of this tonight. I’m going to bed.’

‘No. No, George. Please don’t walk away.’ Hysteria rose to the surface in Marina’s voice. ‘You’re an expert at walking away. You never try to resolve our—’

‘There’s no solution, Marina. Will you never understand that? God damn you, you unforgiving bitch, you’ll never understand or give me a moment’s peace, never live for anything but revenge.’ He sounded close to tears and for a moment there was a desperate silence. ‘You’d better look at tomorrow’s diary and decide what you want to attend.’

Marina turned on her heel and left the room. George slumped into an armchair and sat for a few moments, undecided. Then he rose to his feet and walked across the hall, calling up the stairs.

‘Marina? Marina, I’m sorry. I’m coming up now. Just need to find my glasses.’

As he turned back towards the study a movement caught his eye and he changed direction, only to come face to face with his daughter and Sarah, frozen to the spot.

‘Oh God! There’s just no end to this.’ He pushed his hand up through his hair, his face sad and defeated. ‘Camilla, darling, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know. I just didn’t – God, what a bloody disaster!’

Chapter 4

Kenya, December 1962