‘Hannah, would you come in to Nanyuki with me this afternoon?’ Sarah tried to make her voice casual and failed.

‘What for?’ Hannah looked up from her accounts ledger, her face pinched, shadows under her eyes. ‘I don’t like going to Nanyuki now. I don’t want to meet people. Listen to all those sad speeches and see how awkward they feel when they see me. You go, if you have to.’

‘I don’t want to go by myself. Please, Han.’

They drove into town and parked at the Silverbeck. Sarah remembered the first time she had been there, on her way to Buffalo Springs when life was so glorious and full of promise. She turned off the ignition and faced Hannah.

‘Lars is here,’ she said. ‘And you are going to ask him to come back to Langani, and you are going to tell him the whole truth.’

Shock and anger were Hannah’s first reactions, but after several minutes she opened her door without a word and went into the hotel, her face set like granite. She was finding it difficult to breathe. Her mouth had gone dry and she could not swallow. Where had he come from? Had Sarah brought him back, and if so what did he know? What could she say to him? She stopped and turned back towards the entrance. Sarah was watching her from the car, mouthing words at her. Tell him. Hannah turned again and found him standing beside her. They sat down at a small table in the lounge that overlooked the garden.

‘I miss him,’ he said. ‘I can’t believe he’s gone. For you, I can’t imagine how it must be. Or for Sarah. Oh, Hannah . . .’

She did not want to cry. She did not want to feel the burning guilt that always came when she thought of Lars. If she had not sent him away – her mind refused to complete what might have been. She swallowed with difficulty.

‘You look well,’ she said, realising what a lame, pointless remark that was, and following it with another. ‘I wasn’t expecting to see you.’

‘How are things at the farm?’ he said.

Hannah glanced around in panic. She could see Sarah, still in the car, making no move to join them. ‘Everything is ticking over,’ she said. ‘It’s fine. No. It isn’t fine, actually. I need to ask you – I was thinking – well, there’s something I should tell you.’

She was floundering. Lars studied his glass of beer with intense scrutiny and did not look up. Hannah straightened and set her chin in the attitude of defiance that made her look so like her father. ‘Look, Lars,’ she said, ‘there’s something I need to say.’