He was responsible for Faanie’s death. Kobus had lost his son, just as he and Lottie had lost Piet. If he had not cut the kaffir loose it would not have happened. Jan felt for the whisky bottle and stood there in the fading light, his head tipped back, his throat open, gulping, swallowing, choking, and swallowing again until he had drunk half of it. His head was spinning as he tried to focus on Faanie’s body, to stoop down and pull out the knife. He could hear shots in the distance and the sound of running feet, and he spun round with his gun in his hand. His head was fogged, and all around him the trees had begun to whirl and dance and bend towards him in a great black circle, their branches stretching out to claw him, to tear at his clothing as he fell, hitting his skull on the stone that had tripped him. He felt himself floating in a strange silence, and then the clearing was full of people and he heard Kobus shouting, listened to his howls of desolation rising into the dome of the night as he knelt beside his dead son. For a moment Jan wanted to explain that he was responsible. But he was too tired to speak. He could still see Faanie’s eyes, malevolent and cruel as he aimed his rifle, followed by an almost comic expression of surprise and terror as his life’s blood drained away into the heedless African soil. Somewhere on the edge of his consciousness the informer lay, staring. Knowing. Then blackness.

When he awoke Jan was lying in a narrow hospital bed. Lottie was sitting in a chair beside him. She had fallen asleep, her head lolling forward, her hands clasped in her lap. Jan could see her fingers twitching. He made a sound and her eyes opened at once.

‘Water.’ He was surprised at the effort it took to form the word.

Lottie rose to her feet and ran to the door. ‘Nurse! Nurse Sweeney! He’s conscious! He’s come round!’

‘Water,’ he said again.

‘I’ll give you just a little, through this straw,’ Lottie said. ‘But only a tiny amount, because too much could make you sick. Come now, Janni. I’ll raise your head, and you take one sip.’

The water trickled into his mouth and Lottie dabbed a little on to his dry lips. ‘Janni?’ But he had slipped away from her again and she turned to Nurse Sweeney, her eyes questioning.

‘Don’t worry, dear. He’s going to make progress from now on. He’s back in the land of the living, and he can speak. The rest is just a matter of time. I’ll find Dr Jackson and let him know.’