“I don’t know where he lives,” I say. This is true. I have my suspicions, but I don’t know for certain. “Forget about the book. It isn’t important. I shouldn’t have mentioned it. I didn’t know any of the men who attacked me.”

“Did your father recognise them?”

“I don’t think so. He didn’t say that he did.”

They make a note on their clipboards.

“How often did you visit your father on the farm? You weren’t living there at the time?”

“No, I was just visiting. I lived in a shared house in Cape Town at the time. I was a graduate student at Constantia University. I’m not sure how often I visited. A few times a year, maybe.”

“Why were you visiting on that occasion? It wasn’t Christmas or Easter. Or someone’s birthday.”

I’m not sure how she knows that, but she is correct. There was no special occasion. “My father invited me for the weekend. He said it had been too long since he’d seen me. I hadn’t been home in a while.”

“And what did you do before the attackers broke in?”

This strikes me as a strange question. Does he want to know what canapés were served before dinner (none) and how much sherry I was permitted (half a glass)?

“We had dinner together. I wanted to go out to a restaurant in town, but my father said he would cook, and he did. We had just finished our coffee when they broke in.”

More notes are made.

The policewoman looks up. “What did your father do while you were being raped?”

He watched.

“There wasn’t much he could do. The men took him to show them where the safe was. Then we were all in the same room. He was forced to witness what happened. They had knives.”

“And why do you think they broke into your father’s farmhouse? What was their purpose?”

To rape me.

“I suppose they were looking for something to steal.”

“But they didn’t steal anything, did they? They raped you and set fire to the house, and then they left.”

“I believe that’s true. Yes, I was told at the time that nothing was taken apart from a little cash.”

“So do you think they accomplished what they set out to do?”

“If they got away with nothing, then I guess not. Perhaps they were interrupted.”

“By what?”

I shake my head. In my memory, my father chased them away, but I have never been sure about this.

The policeman stands up. “That’s all we need for now, Ms. Lurie. You have been very helpful. Constable Mwire will stay with you while I go and speak to your father.”