The noise ended. The storeroom filled with smoke and dust. Soon the angels of death would appear through the gloom and it would be too late. Gerhard crossed himself. He thought of Saffron. He wished that they could have had just one more minute together, so that he could have put their disagreements behind them and told her how much he loved her. Then he whispered, ‘Forgive me, my darling,’ put his gun against Kika’s head, and tightened his finger on the trigger.

The Land Rovers came tearing down the drive.

The vehicles came to a halt a few yards from the front door and everyone piled out. Saffron grabbed a Sten from Makori’s stock of weapons.

‘Here, take these,’ he said, handing her two magazines that were taped together, slightly off-centre, open at opposite ends. ‘When one runs out, just take it out, spin it and slot in the next. Means you can keep firing non-stop.’

‘Never seen that before,’ said Saffron. Then speaking more quietly, because she did not want to embarrass Makori in front of his own people, she said. ‘This is my battle, on my land. Mind if I take it from here?’

He nodded his agreement. Saffron turned to face the pseudos and started rapping out orders.

‘You, take two men and go in through the dining room, that’s the window on the left. Clear it, then advance into the hall.’ She pointed to another man. ‘You go through the drawing room, on the right, same thing, take two men. The rest of you, come with me. You too, Benjamin. Stay tight to me and do exactly what I tell you.’

She gave Wambui her Beretta and saw her face light up as she was given the chance to fight like a man. Then she shouted, ‘Let’s go!’

There was no time to carry out any reconnaissance. Saffron dashed through the front door, into the hall . . . and it was empty.

There were dead Mau Mau soldiers scattered across the floor. Three or four of them were injured and still moving.

Saffron shot one and shouted, ‘Kill the rest!’

There was no hesitation; her veneer of civility had been discarded. This was war and there were no rules.

As Wambui and the pseudos obeyed the order, another two Mau Mau appeared on the stairs. One of them was holding a bottle. The other was waving a gun. They thought the battle was over and won.

Saffron took one of them out. Benjamin shot the other. He had never before witnessed, still less inflicted, the destructive, blood-spattered brutality of a rifle bullet fired at point-blank range into another human being. He stopped in his tracks, sickened by what he had done.

There was not a shred of pity in Saffron’s voice.

‘Snap out of it! Keep moving!’

Benjamin looked at her, unable to match the callous, hardened fighter beside him with the thoughtful, elegant woman he had known all his life.