She shrugged. ‘It looks like the boys have run off. They’re hopeless.’ Her voice rose. ‘No loyalty at all, no gratitude for what we’ve done for them.’

Stephen disagreed, but as Jill was in such shock, he decided not to challenge her. A large flake of soot landed on his arm, hot through his shirtsleeve, leaving a greasy stain.

They walked closer to the piggeries. ‘And where has Eric got to?’ inquired Jill. ‘It would be nice if he came to check if I was alright.’ There was a smudge of soot beneath the corner of her eye and her cheeks glistened with fresh tears. The sun was coming up, casting shadows; the light was turning hazy rose and gold. In African folklore, the shooting rays of the rising sun held healing powers, but this morning, they did nothing but illuminate a dismal sight.

The pigs lay in grotesque poses in deep, black ash among the detritus of burnt timber and blackened feeding troughs. Some were so badly burned that they were hardly recognisable as animals. Others looked as though they had been boiled; their feet drawn up and purple entrails burst out of their carcasses. Some had died with their snouts pressed against the wire netting, obviously trying to escape.

A few of the smaller animals had managed to squeeze out. They lay on the ground, pitiful bundles of raw scorched flesh, their eyes dulling, their limbs twitching feebly.

‘Eric should shoot them,’ Stephen mumbled.

‘Must I remind you that his guns have been confiscated?’ Jill gave him a hard look.

‘Where is he?’

They found him lying behind the pig houses, his neck gruesomely twisted. He had thrown up all over his face and the back of his skull was smashed in. Brain matter had leaked into a puddle under his head; greyish, marbled with blood and splinters of bone.

An animal-like sound escaped from Jill’s mouth. Her face turned crimson, then white. Her body shuddered and heaved and she slipped to the ground in a dead faint. Stephen, who had never once vomited in the trenches, doubled up and was copiously sick on the withered ground.

Ginie made her way to the vegetable garden with a large, empty basket, pausing at the gate to snuff the fragrant air. The vegetables were surrounded by fencing to keep animals out, but every now and then baboons broke in, threw tomatoes and peppers around and dug up potatoes. She approached the long row of plum trees that were heavy with verdant leaves and firm fruit. They gave off a scent so strong it made her giddy. She set about picking the plums and let her thoughts unspool.