The sound of the Sten went on and on, getting louder and louder, taunting the surviving defenders with its incessant chatter.

The Mau Mau broke through the kitchen door.

Gerhard shot the first two who clambered through the gap in the bullet-ridden woodwork. Mashraf got a third. But then the door was smashed completely open and, though Dorian, Sophie and Sharpe hit men at point-blank range, it made no difference as one terrorist after another charged in, cheered on by their comrades already in the kitchen.

Firing the last three rounds in the Webley’s chamber, Gerhard provided covering fire as the others retreated into the storeroom. Then he darted in, ducking beneath a panga blade and feeling a round fly past him into the door frame as the Mau Mau charged after him.

No sooner had the door closed and the key been turned than Mpishi, Mashraf and the two maids dashed towards it, carrying sacks of provisions which they piled behind the door. Several shots were fired through the wood, miraculously missing everyone inside. Dorian and Sharpe added to the makeshift barrier with crates of beer and then Dorian shouted, ‘Grab one of the shelves! We can wedge it against the door!’

More shots and hammering smashed against the door. Gerhard could hear whoops and shouts of encouragement coming from the kitchen. They sounded like football supporters cheering on a winning team. Dorian and Sharpe grabbed one end of a freestanding shelf, filled with provisions that stood against the far wall. Mashraf and Mpishi took the other. They tilted it forward and a mass of provisions crashed to the floor. But now the shelf could be lifted and the men ran with it, still at an angle, and jammed it against the door, while the bottom rested on the floor.

Dorian’s wife Sophie ran to Harriet and the children, who were clinging white-faced to their grandmother, to see how they were.

‘We might as well sit on it, gentlemen,’ Dorian said, placing himself on the bottom shelf. ‘The weight will make it almost impossible to open the door.’

‘What if they shoot us through the door?’ Sharpe asked.

Dorian gave a wry smile. ‘What difference would that make? If they come through the door we’re goners anyway.’

Sharpe took the point. As he, Mpishi and Dorian filled up the rest of the shelf, Gerhard approached them, reloading the Webley as he went.

‘Does anyone have any ammo left?’

The men shook their heads.

‘I think Sophie’s got one left,’ Dorian said.

‘I think it’s best if she saves it,’ Gerhard said, and Dorian nodded, knowing what he meant.

Gerhard looked at the men by the shelf and the two maids who were gathering jars, bottles and cans to use as missiles.