‘Not you. It doesn’t have to be you.’ Lottie’s eyes were blazing. ‘I’ve been here alone all day, not knowing whether you would be alive or dead in the back of the truck. One of these gangs could have turned up here and attacked me while you were away on your crusade. Does that matter at all, or do I not deserve your protection? And now you come in here, drunk and—’ Jan pushed past her but she stood her ground. ‘No, you let me finish. You stink like a polecat, and you’re full of whisky. I can smell it on your breath and I can see your hands shaking. Look at you, Janni! You’re not so young any more. There are plenty of younger men on the farms around here who can do this. It’s not your fight. I’m sorry about Maartens and his wife, of course I am. But you don’t owe them anything, and nothing you do will bring them back. Kobus is using you. He treats you like cannon fodder, so that he and his son will live to fight another day. And you seem all too willing to go out and kill yourself.’

‘Lottie—’

‘It’s too much, Janni.’ Her eyes filled with tears. ‘I can’t do this any more. We came down here for the sake of Piet. To give him a chance on the farm. But he’s dead, Janni. Dead. And Hannah is struggling to carry on alone. We have no life here either. I’m working every hour for half of nothing, and you’re gone all day, and when you do come home, you’re drunk.’

‘Do you think I don’t hate what’s going on here?’ Jan was swaying on his feet. ‘But I have no choice. I need this job. If I don’t go on the patrols Kobus will sack me, and then we’ll have nothing at all. Nothing.’

‘There has to be somewhere else you can work, if you won’t go home.’ Lottie’s voice was weary. ‘What Kobus is making you do will destroy you, Janni. Last time it was for our farm, for our family. And there was a terrible price for that. But this is not your battle. Ian Smith is a madman who is going to plunge this country into war. We should leave before it’s too late.’

Jan took a step towards his wife and tried to pull her close to him, but she turned away from him in disgust.

‘Go and have a bath,’ she said coldly. ‘I can’t take the smell of death on you. Or the stink of booze. It’s in your clothes, on your body, in your eyes. Go and clean up while I try and do something with your dinner.’