Three weeks went by as Hannah searched for the right circumstances in which to proffer her invitation. Sarah Mackay, for some reason, barely spoke to her and even seemed to be avoiding her. In truth, although Hannah had been at the school for two years, none of the boarders was her close friend. They always seemed to be part of a world that the daughter of third-generation Afrikaans farmers could not share. Her peers came from families whose roots were in faraway places like London or Dublin, or somewhere called ‘the Home Counties’. They all came from country houses or city residences to which they would return someday. Late one afternoon Hannah finally came across Sarah alone in the art room, finishing a charcoal drawing.

‘That’s good, Sarah. I wish I could draw like that.’

‘It’s not coming out right.’ Sarah was frowning, bending forward over the paper. Her cheek was smudged with charcoal and her hands were impatient as she used her fingertips to try and achieve better shading.

‘Do you like doing landscapes? Out on the veld, I mean, with trees and animals like we have on our farm?’

‘Not really.’ Sarah did not even look up. ‘I’m trying to concentrate on portraits for now. As you can see.’

Hannah recognised the snub, felt herself dismissed. She would have to find some other occasion to bring up the invitation. Sometimes she wondered why she had been sent to the convent at all. All the other Afrikaans farmers’ daughters went to Kikoma School that had both girls and boys, and was not religious in any way. Hannah remembered the argument she had overheard as she had sat in her favourite window seat, concealed behind the heavy curtains in the sitting room.

‘This is different, Jan.’ Lottie’s voice had been firm. ‘You had your way over Piet’s education. He went to Kikoma and he’s done well. He’s tough and bright, and very independent. But Hannah’s not like that, in spite of appearances. And I’m not an Afrikaner like you. I want our daughter to mix with different kinds of people, to see beyond the blinkered vision of your gloomy Dutch Reformers.’

‘Piet’s not blinkered. Or gloomy.’

‘He spends all his spare time with you and me.’ Lottie brushed aside the words with impatience. ‘You have to remember Piet was an only child for five years, until Hannah came along. He had all our attention, and we’re more broad-minded than most of our neighbours.’

‘So, we can make sure Hannah grows up broad-minded too. Without spending our life’s savings on that school.’

‘No, Janni. For Hannah the convent is the best choice. The nuns turn out girls with a refinement she won’t get in Kikoma. Everyone calls that place a heifer boma, and I’m afraid it’s true.’