Both Hannah and Sarah threw themselves into an excess of activity during the daylight hours, hoping that by nightfall they would be bone-weary and ready for oblivion. Sarah went to the dispensary each day, desperate for something to occupy her. The little room was full of people, their ailments forgotten in the face of the tragedy that had overtaken them all. They had come to offer their condolences. She accepted their sympathetic murmurings, and with each one her suffering grew. Every waking moment threatened a memory that might derail her faltering progress, cracking the thin veneer of control. Fear cast long shadows across the days and nights. Even familiar sounds created anxiety. Everyday words and phrases took on sinister innuendoes, as Hannah discussed the wheat crop or the cattle with farm workers they had always trusted in the past. The nights were the worst. Sleep was dangerous, a time when nightmares crashed through their fragile guard, drawing them down into a vortex of abject grief and fear.

Anthony found a colleague to take out his next safari, and stayed on at the farm. He tried to anticipate their needs, and to avoid intruding. It was a side of him that Sarah had never seen before and she tried to show her appreciation. Hannah seemed unaware of him. She was aloof from everyone, her expression flinty, her words clipped. She ate little and seemed not to taste the food put in front of her. Mwangi watched over her like a parent, shuffling about and muttering to himself in sympathy when she failed to answer a query, or did not respond to some domestic matter he had raised. He took over the daily running of the house, turning to Sarah on the rare occasions when he needed guidance. It was a relief for her to be doing something useful. She was aware that Mwangi and Kamau were fully capable of dealing with most of the tasks they set her, and she was touched by their wish to make her feel needed. Love and compassion shone in their faces as they moved about the house, their presence familiar and comforting. During that first week, Sarah came into the dining room one morning to find Mwangi weeping over the table. She saw that he had unthinkingly set a place for Piet and he was now removing it, his body bowed over the chair that had once belonged to Jan and then to the young man he had known since infancy. She moved forward and they put their arms around one another, drawing comfort from the sadness they shared.