Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
About the Author
Also by Barbara & Stephanie Keating
Epigraph
Map
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Glossary
This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
Barbara and Stephanie Keating grew up in Kenya. One sister now lives in France and the other in Dublin. Their first novel was the bestselling To My Daughter in France … This was followed by the acclaimed novels Blood Sisters and A Durable Fire, which along with In Borrowed Light, make up the Langani trilogy.
Savage stars pit the night
And I walk in borrowed light
To seek, to feel, to fear, to fly …
Kenya, July 1977
It had started well, the day that Hannah’s world shifted on its axis to spin out of its familiar orbit. It was the day she had left Langani Farm to travel to Europe for the first time. The day that her daughter vanished for the first time. The day that doubt crept into her sense of belonging for the first time, to gnaw at the core of all she held dear.
She rose before dawn on that morning, leaving the bedroom with unaccustomed stealth, not wanting to wake Lars who was snoring lightly through the last hour of sleep. He had held Hannah close during the night, unable to quell his excitement, although he was not a man to express extremes of feeling.
‘We’re leaving tomorrow, Han,’ he said. ‘There have been times when I thought you would never see the place of my origins. I know it was hard for you to choose between Norway and Italy, but I think Lottie understands.’
‘She does.’ Hannah burrowed under the bedclothes to warm herself on his body, understanding the pride he would feel as he introduced his wife and children to the land that had nurtured him. ‘We can’t afford the time or the money to travel to both places. Ma was with us at the coast last year, and we have promised it will be Italy next time. Besides, we never thought about a holiday anywhere in Europe, until now.’
‘We will have the best times,’ Lars said. ‘Seeing the other half of our children’s heritage, the farm where I grew up, and a different set of mountains rising out of such blue water.’ He pushed his fingers into her thick, blonde hair, loosened from the braid that hung down her back during the daytime. ‘You are going to fall in love with Norway. And the children will think they are in heaven.’
‘They are pretty close to heaven right here,’ Hannah said. ‘I don’t know how we will persuade Suniva to behave like a normal European child. She could look so pretty now that she is eleven years old, but she is a wild tomboy. It will be a battle to convince her that she should keep her shoes on and comb her hair and wear a dress sometimes, instead of running around in those tatty old shorts and tackies, like a toto from the labour lines.’
‘She can wear whatever she likes.’ Lars was smiling. ‘Her feet will sink into the softest grass you can imagine. I can see her walking through the wildflowers in the meadows. She will meet her grandfather’s cows and pick up some more Norwegian. Piet can learn to row and to sail, and we will have the best shrimps you have ever eaten.’
‘Yes. Of course we will.’
‘What is it, Han?’ Lars propped himself up on one elbow. ‘You’re not worried about leaving Langani, are you? Mike has stood in as farm manager for years, when we have gone to the coast or on safari. And David is a true professional with the guests up at the lodge. Sarah will look in, too, now that she seems to be well again. It’s going to be fine.’
‘Poor Sarah. I suppose a visit to Langani might help her, but she has been so depressed that I don’t believe she is capable of doing anything much,’ she said. ‘But it’s not the farm. It’s only that I worry about Piet having a problem on the plane. He has had such a bad time with his ears, and I hope it’s not too soon for him to travel. I keep wondering if we should have delayed everything.’
‘Piet will be fine,’ Lars said. ‘Dr Markham says there is no sign of any remaining infection.’
‘Yes, but this is the third time he has had trouble with his ears lately, and we have to be extra careful,’ Hannah said.
‘He is more likely to pick up another infection here, than in London or Norway. It would have been very difficult to change our dates and leave later. And think of the children’s disappointment. They are so eager to be off, to see that big new world.’
‘You mustn’t spoil them too much,’ she said, smiling up at him. ‘Get them used to things we can never have here.’
‘It is their first trip outside Kenya,’ he said, running his fingers lightly over her face, across her mouth. ‘And your first time in Europe. So I am certainly planning to spoil you all. Ja. Starting right now.’
‘Go to sleep.’ She pushed him away, laughing, as he reached underneath her pyjama top to touch her warm breasts. ‘I have to be up early in the morning to check the packing. I’m sure I’ve brought all the wrong things, especially for London.’
‘If you need different clothes you can go shopping with Camilla,’ he said. ‘Take advantage of the fact that your friend is the queen of London fashion.’
‘I can’t afford to shop anywhere that Camilla would go. But I’m glad she will be there. We haven’t seen her for months, and last time she was only at the farm for a few days. It’s lovely that we can stay in her flat instead of a hotel, although I think she is a little crazy taking on us hayseeds, and the children too.’
‘It will bring her back to real life,’ Lars said, chuckling in the darkness. ‘Make a change from all the pictures we see of her with the rich and famous. Instead she will be with us, looking at the sights of London from the top of a red bus.’
‘I’m a little scared of the big city and the crowds and the pace of London,’ Hannah said. ‘And the cost of everything.’
‘We’ve had several good years on the farm, with the wheat and your success in the dairy and the way you have run Camilla’s workshop. The lodge is making money, too. We should enjoy a few luxuries while we can, so we will remember them when there is a drought, or the cows get sick, or there is rust or worm in the wheat. Come here, Han,’ he said, kissing her earlobe, feeling her resolve evaporate under his knowing caresses. His voice was pitched at the special tone he used for lovemaking as he brought her closer.
‘Ach, Lars, I don’t know what you are thinking of,’ she said, putting her arms around his neck as he began to whisper into her ear. ‘Sometimes you have no sense at all.’
Hannah was warmed by the memory as she made her way through the silent house and into the garden, with its scent of jasmine and the sighing of the wind in the trees. The dogs followed her expectantly, whining softly as she opened the door onto the verandah, disappointed when she shook her head and left them behind. Outside, the night watchman murmured a greeting and she heard the call of a nightjar in the chilly darkness. The last stars still glittered in the sky, and the smell of rain hung in the air. She hoped another downpour would not turn the road into an ooze of red mud, sucking at the tyres and causing the car to sway and slide into a hidden pothole, or even a ditch. They would have to leave as early as possible, in case of unexpected delays.
She started the Land Rover and backed slowly out of the garage, keeping the engine noise low, not turning on the headlights until she had rounded the curve in the driveway. Then she changed gear and picked up speed along the track that led to the ridge. The sky was stained with scarlet and gold, and the beginnings of blue had appeared by the time she parked at the foot of the rocky incline. As she climbed the last few hundred yards, the distant silhouette of the mountain stood before her, dark and high and ragged against the glowing light, and she sensed that the Great God N’gai was watching her solitary pilgrimage. The earth felt ancient and familiar beneath the spring of her footsteps. In the distance she could see the glimmer of early morning fires, as men and women appeared from the thatched huts of the farm’s labour lines to prepare for the day. Below her, on the viewing platform at Langani Lodge, two of the guests had come out to watch a group of elephant at the waterhole.
Three generations of her family had passed this way before her, scrambling up the loose scree to the ridge that had been her brother’s favourite place. Piet had come up here to dream, looking out over the farm that his great-grandparents had carved from the devouring wilderness, planning what he would do when his turn came to tend and protect the land. It was on the ridge that he had asked Sarah to marry him. It was here that he had died, under the cold, pitiless eye of the African moon.
Sarah was the one who had suggested building a cairn in his memory, the one who had chosen the first smooth stone and set it in place over the ashes of his funeral pyre. Hannah had followed and then Camilla, the three friends taking their first steps towards broken-hearted acceptance, as close in their grief as they had been in the joys of their shared childhood. Over time Hannah had learned to look upon Piet’s memorial as a refuge where his spirit remained to guide and comfort her. When her son was born and named after the brother she had adored and lost, she and Lars had brought the child up here on the day of his christening, to turn the ridge into a place of peace and renewal.
The air felt charged with beauty and purpose and the sounds of the bush began to swell around her. She sat down on the cool stones of the cairn, beneath the tortillis tree that Lars had planted on the place where Piet’s funeral pyre had flared in the obscene brightness of that terrible morning.
‘We’re leaving today, Piet,’ she said, aloud. ‘On the visit to Europe that we’ve talked about for so long. Lars and the children and me. I can’t believe it’s happening – that we’re going to London and Norway. I’m a little nervous, though. Even in Nairobi I sometimes feel like a real bumpkin – a plain, Afrikaans farm girl in the middle of all those fancy people. But it will be a wonderful thing for us, and I can feel the thrill of it already. So I’ve come to say goodbye for a while. To say that I love you, and I know you’ll watch over the farm while we’re gone.’
His answer came to her in the hum of the wind, through the bird calls that he had known so well, and from the sounds of the animals grazing on the plains beneath her. She drove back to the house with her mind at rest, taking the track along the bright coil of the river, passing herds of zebra and gazelle and a pair of jackals trotting across the plains after a night’s hunting.
She had spent two hours at the Langani Workshop on the previous afternoon, supervising the Kikuyu and Maasai women while they cut fabric and sewed beads and ornaments onto Camilla’s latest designs. They chattered and sang as they threaded their needles and set the machines whirring, and they had all laughed at her when she suggested that they, too, might one day make a visit to the faraway land where their work was sold in shops even bigger than her house. Hannah hoped that nothing would go wrong with the sewing machines in her absence. Mike Stead was a good farm manager and he could coax the tractor or harvester into grudging life, but she did not think that his expertise or interests ran to small devices that created handbags and belts and embroidered clothing for distant fashion boutiques.
Now, in the morning’s pearly light she called in at the dairy to see her cows, and to admire the calf that she had delivered recently with Achole who had looked after the herd for several years. A few minutes in the stables made her regret that she did not have time for a brief ride before departure, but she had to content herself with putting her arms around each of the horses’ necks and stroking their velvet noses. By the time she returned to the house she was ravenous, anxious to get the children dressed and ready, and to put the last things into their suitcases. She climbed out of the Land Rover and frowned. The promise of a fine day was fading, and a drift of cloud had hooked itself around the mountain’s sharp summit, stealing the blue from the sky and bringing a tinge of gloom to the morning. She stood on the lawn, breathing in the scent of rain in the last moments before everything changed.
‘Hannah.’ Lars was standing on the verandah with Piet beside him.
‘This young man is up early.’ Hannah ruffled her son’s blond hair, her heart skipping a beat as she saw her brother’s mirror image in the boy. But Piet did not respond, and on closer inspection she was surprised by his sombre expression. ‘What’s the matter? We’re going to London tonight, to see the horses, and the soldiers guarding the Queen in Buckingham Palace, and—’
‘We can’t go.’ Piet’s tone was flat. ‘Not without Suniva.’
‘Of course we’re not going without Suniva,’ Hannah said, puzzled. ‘We’ll wake her up right now. You can both have breakfast in your dressing gowns, and then put on your new clothes for the journey.’
‘Suniva’s not in her bedroom. She’s not in the house, Han.’ Lars stared at his wife, willing her to remain calm.
‘So where is she?’ Hannah tried to read the signal in his eyes.
‘Suniva has run away!’ Piet blurted out the words. ‘Because she won’t go without James. Not to the other farm, or on the aeroplane to London. And we can’t go without her.’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake,’ Hannah said, exasperated. ‘I can’t believe she’d pull this kind of stunt on the morning we’re leaving.’
Piet balled his fists, steeling himself against tears. Lars placed a hand on his shoulder, understanding the child’s fear that the great adventure they had talked about for so long might now be cancelled. But Piet turned and ran towards the sitting room, colliding with Mwangi.
‘What is the matter with this boy?’ The old retainer looked at Piet, his wrinkled face full of concern.
‘Suniva has disappeared,’ Lars said. ‘She is not in the house.’
‘Piet thinks his sister has run away,’ Hannah said. ‘Have you seen her this morning?’ When Mwangi shook his head she turned to Lars. ‘When did all this start?’
‘He came running into the bedroom a few minutes before you arrived.’
‘She must be with Esther and James,’ Hannah said, annoyance rising. ‘I’ll go out to the staff quarters and bring her back. Mwangi, please give Piet his breakfast. I asked Kamau to come early this morning, so he’s probably in the kitchen already.’
In the staff compound she stepped over several broody chickens and knocked on Esther’s door. There was no response and she rapped again, loud and impatient. She was shivering in the cold air, shaking the first drops of rain from her hair, aware that several of the watu had come out of their houses and were watching, curiously. When Esther appeared she was tying her headscarf back behind her ears, and her cardigan hung open over the flannel nightgown that had been a Christmas gift.
‘Mama Hannah?’ Her voice was still thick with sleep. ‘It is very early. Is there something wrong?’
‘I’ve come to fetch Suniva.’ Hannah brushed the question aside. ‘You shouldn’t have let her stay here, Esther. I’ve told you before that the children can be together all day, but they must sleep in their own rooms at night.’
‘I have not seen her since yesterday.’ Esther was bewildered and indignant.
‘Well, she’s not in the house, so I thought she must be with you.’ Hannah was frowning, a worm of disquiet curdling her stomach. ‘Is James here?’
‘Ndio, Mama.’ Esther’s mouth was turned down with displeasure. ‘Of course he is here.’
Hannah put her hand on Esther’s ample arm. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘But Piet says Suniva has run away, because she does not want to leave without James.’
‘Ehh, ehh.’ The ayah nodded. ‘That is what she said, yes. She has told you the same thing.’
‘I don’t pay attention to that kind of rubbish.’ Hannah could not disguise her irritation. ‘She must be hiding somewhere in the compound, or in the garden. It’s beginning to rain and we must leave for Nairobi early, in case we get stuck in the mud somewhere. We can’t be held up because Suniva wants to attract attention. Bwana Lars is already angry.’
Esther let out a soft grunt. ‘Those two are always playing bad games,’ she said. ‘Piet not so much. But the others do not obey me because they are too big now. They are always making some matata.’
Hannah was not listening. She strode across the room to James’s bedroom and opened the door. There was a mound in the centre of the bed.
‘Wake up, James.’ Hannah pulled back the bedclothes to reveal two lumpy pillows pushed into the shape of a sleeping form.
‘Aie ya!’ Esther’s exclamation was one of frightened astonishment.
‘Where the hell are these children?’ Hannah’s alarm sharpened her voice.
But it was obvious that Esther had no idea. James had gone to bed at the usual time, she said. And she had eaten her food and retired early, to be ready for the last preparations in the morning. She had not heard any sound during the night.
‘Where the hell could they have gone?’ Frustration overtook Hannah’s effort to remain composed. ‘They must have left in the dark. It’s only three nights ago since a leopard took one of the dogs. Think, Esther.’ She grabbed the ayah’s hands. ‘Please.’
‘I do not know. They like to be in the forest, looking for birds or following a spoor.’
‘That is the worst place they could choose. And why would they go there in the dark, anyway? Send someone to the dairy to find Achole, and ask everyone here in the staff quarters if they have seen them.’ Hannah’s anger was stifled by dread. ‘You had better come and look after Piet.’
Hannah ran back to the house, taking the verandah steps two at a time. Lars was waiting, pacing the living room. ‘She’s not with Esther,’ she said. ‘And neither is James.’
‘Christ! Maybe they’re at the dairy. Or the stables. What has got into her?’
Hannah shook her head. ‘I’ve been to both places this morning.’
‘What’s this Piet has been telling me? About Suniva not wanting to go away?’
‘Ach, she is always fooling around,’ Hannah said. ‘Trying to play me up. You know how she is – full of crazy schemes. And she winds you round her little finger so easily.’ Her voice was dismissive but the panic in her eyes belied her tone. ‘Here’s Esther. She will take Piet and organise him.’
‘Tell me about Suniva’s crazy schemes.’ Lars put his arm around his wife, seeing her torment, trying to conceal his own apprehension.
‘She made a big fuss a few days ago,’ Hannah said. ‘Wanted to know which was James’s suitcase. When she realised he was staying here, she burst into tears and started shouting at me. Said she wouldn’t go, unless James was coming too.’
‘I suppose we might have expected something like this, sooner or later,’ Lars said. ‘Those two are inseparable. And we haven’t discussed the question of James and his place in the family, now that he is old enough for it to matter.’
‘What are you talking about?’ Hannah brushed an impatient hand across her forehead. ‘James is protected and secure, he has a roof over his head and he knows that we love him. That is his place in the family.’
‘Yes, but—’
‘We provide him with everything he needs, he goes to school with the other boys from the farm, and he spends all his free hours with Piet and Suniva,’ Hannah said. ‘He is a normal, bright, happy boy who has no inkling about his parents’ history, or the horrors of the past.’
‘But he doesn’t really fit into either world,’ Lars said. ‘He’s not a full part of our household, even though he never spends any time in the staff compound except when he goes to bed at night. So he doesn’t truly belong in either place. It hasn’t made a difference up to now, but he is about thirteen years old, Han. It’s surprising that he hasn’t ever questioned his situation, or asked about his parents. One of these days the other boys on the farm will bring up the subject and that will be awkward for James. I think it’s a priority—’
‘You didn’t consider this a priority until a few minutes ago, any more than I did.’ Hannah cut him off. ‘Right now our main concern is that James and Suniva are playing some stupid game, and we need to find them. I’ll phone the lodge in case David has seen them, but it’s unlikely that they would have walked such a distance. Achole should be here any moment. You had better go with him to the forest, although I can’t believe Suniva would venture out there at night. God knows, we’ve warned her enough about buffalo and elephant and leopard. And she cried all day when the puppy was taken. It’s not as if she doesn’t understand how dangerous it is up there.’
David answered the telephone at the lodge. No, he had not seen either of the children. He would ask the rest of the staff, but the lodge was almost four miles from the house and they would have had to walk across the plain, or along the edge of the forest. He did not believe they would have ventured so far.
Hannah shuddered, terror gnawing at her as she pushed away the horrible images of an attack by leopard or buffalo. Or a pack of hyena. A rock lodged itself in her throat and her ears ached as she swallowed tears. She tried to determine whether she should join Lars and Achole or set off in another direction. Uncertainty rooted her to the spot and she stood there, biting her lip, racking her brain for some clue as to where she might begin the search. Trying not to think of the forest, of her brother and his monstrous end. Outside a steady rain had begun to fall, realising her fears of a slippery road and slow going later in the morning. If they ever got away.
‘Achole tells me that Suniva and James have built a shelter made of sticks and leaves.’ Lars had appeared with the grizzled herdsman. ‘It’s in a clearing just inside the forest, above the second bend in the river.’
‘It is their special house.’ Achole was sucking his gums. ‘But it is a bad place to be at night.’
‘They may not have gone that way, but we’ll look there first.’ Lars saw his wife’s consternation. He reached out to squeeze her hand, and caught a movement on the edge of his field of vision. On the verandah Mwangi was holding James by the scruff of the neck, and Hannah gasped and ran towards them.
‘I have found him, coming back to Esther’s numba,’ Mwangi said, pushing the boy forward. ‘But he has told me nothing.’
‘James! Where have you been? Where is Suniva? You know it’s not safe to be out of the compound at night.’ Relief and rage coursed through Hannah, leaving her unable to stop spewing out irate words. ‘You deserve a bloody good hiding, both of you, and you had better watch out because Esther is also—’
‘Hannah.’ Lars spoke in a low tone as James backed away. ‘We need to go slowly here.’ He turned his attention to the boy. ‘Now James, you must answer me. You are not in trouble, I promise you, but you must tell us where Suniva is.’
‘I have not seen her.’ James’s words were barely audible and he stared at the ground, sullen and defensive, twisting his fingers together before stuffing them into the pockets of his shorts. His clothes were plastered to his skin by the rain and he had begun to shiver.
‘Well, she was not in her room last night, and you were not in Esther’s house. So I think you do know where she is.’ Lars tried to sound encouraging as he led the boy inside and stood him close to the fire. ‘James?’
‘You must tell us the truth.’ Hannah adopted a more conciliatory tone. ‘She should not be away from the house at night. You know that.’
James remained silent, his body stiff with resistance, his expression anxious.
‘Did you promise Suniva that you would keep this a secret?’ Hannah persisted. ‘If that is the case, then it’s not your fault. But we need to find her.’
‘Tell Mama Hannah what you know.’ Esther had appeared in the doorway, her eyes blazing as she shook a fist at her charge. ‘You are a stupid boy, James Karuri, and you should not have promised anything. Mbaya sana, stupid in the head. Causing trouble now.’ She grabbed him and shook him lightly, but Hannah made a gesture of restraint.
‘Come on, James,’ she said. ‘You were together all day yesterday, and she always tells you her ideas.’
Kamau had emerged from the kitchen to join Mwangi and Achole, and the night watchman who was still swaddled in the ancient greatcoat he wore in the cold hours of darkness. Everyone wanted to know what kind of shauri had erupted just as the family was going away to visit relations in a distant land. They stood together, placing themselves at a respectful distance that would still allow them to hear all that was being said. But James remained stubbornly mute.
‘James. Help me, please.’ Hannah’s mind filled with the bloody memories of past years, and she was close to screaming. She stood back, clutching at an armchair, trying to think of some way to prise the information out of the boy. ‘What will you say to me if Suniva is found dead? If she is attacked by hyena or buffalo. What then, James?’
‘She wants to hide until everyone is gone. Then she will come out.’ He was looking at her now, guilt filling his dark eyes. ‘Because she does not want to go away from Langani.’
‘You, boy, tell Mama Hannah what you know. Sasa hivi.’ Achole stepped forward, his face thunderous. ‘If Suniva is killed by a chui, or another animal, you will be responsible.’
‘She made me promise, but I do not want her to be harmed.’ The tension in the room heightened as James fell silent once more, staring out at the rain and the drifting fog that now obscured the hedge that separated garden from wilderness. Then he hunched his shoulders and glanced up briefly at Lars. ‘She is at our house in the forest.’
‘All right. You and I will go and collect her.’ Lars turned to Hannah, flashing a warning look at her livid face. ‘You see to Piet and finish off the packing. Kamau, we will have breakfast as soon as we get back. Plenty of hot porridge, and bacon and eggs. Achole, you keep a lookout, in case Suniva comes back to the stables or the dairy.’
Moments later Hannah heard the sound of the Land Rover roaring away down the drive. She made her way to Piet’s bedroom and sat down beside her son. He looked at her, his face solemn.
‘Is Suniva coming back?’
‘Your pa has gone to fetch her,’ she said, sweeping him into her arms. ‘So let’s get all washed and be ready for breakfast when they arrive.’
Lars parked the vehicle at the edge of the tree line and waited as James scrambled out of the passenger seat. The damp ground rose steeply, disappearing into the mist a few yards above them. They laboured up the narrow path, grabbing at the limbs of trees that loomed like bent giants in the dim light. The going was slow and torturous and they were often unable to prevent themselves from sliding backwards on the muddy track. Rain dripped onto their shoulders from gaps in the canopy of leaves. High above them a troop of monkeys screamed and chattered in mockery as they leapt, without effort, through their aerial world. Turacos and wood pigeons called, and then Lars heard the sound he had feared most – the rasping, sawing cough of a leopard. He turned to James, an unspoken statement in his eyes, and the boy’s face turned grey with alarm.
‘She made me promise,’ he repeated, but his voice was trembling. ‘I said I would not tell, but I am sorry.’
‘How far?’ Lars’s question was harsh as he heard the crack of breaking branches, and the lumbering of elephant higher up the path. He released the safety catch on his rifle and repeated the question. ‘How far, James?’
James pointed and then ducked sideways, vanishing into a wall of vegetation, making a sobbing sound as he moved forward at a faster pace. Lars pushed forward, thick bushes snapping and lashing his face as he forced a passage for his large frame, the prayers of his Lutheran childhood on his lips.
Old memories flashed through his mind as he followed the boy whose father had once hidden deep in this same forest, after the savage murder of Piet van der Beer. Seeing James ahead of him, uncannily attuned to the environment of his forebears, Lars felt a deep surge of misgiving. He had tried to forget but he had never been able to forgive. Unlike Sarah who seemed, against all odds, to have laid the barbarous vision to rest. The thickly wooded area was a place of haunting, terrible beauty and unspeakable revenge, and Hannah had never been able to set foot on this part of her land, where Simon Githiri had hidden after killing her brother.
As James led the way into a small clearing, the shelter came into view. It had been roughly woven together from branches and mud, with a narrow opening on one side and a roof made from the surrounding foliage. A shaft of murky light fell on the fragile structure that offered little protection from heavy rain or prowling wildlife. Suniva was squatting on the ground outside, her blonde hair tangled, her sweater and dungarees spattered with mud. An attempt to coax a fire of damp twigs into life had been unsuccessful. She leapt to her feet at once, glaring at the two figures before her.
‘You told them. You broke our pact. Our promise.’ Her voice was cold and flat, more deadly than any tirade. James looked away, wiping the back of his hand across his eyes to disguise oncoming tears as she turned her attention to her father. ‘I’m not going away. I told Ma I wouldn’t leave without James. I hate the other farm and I don’t want to go there.’
‘I’m taking you home now, Suniva.’ It was a statement with as much authority as Lars could muster. Conflicting emotions battled in his mind, but he recognised that this was no time for coaxing or tolerance. ‘You were wrong to frighten us by disappearing, and you will apologise to your mother the minute you see her. I thought you had enough sense to know that the forest is extremely dangerous at night. I’m disappointed in you. And very, very angry.’
‘I’m not coming with you,’ she shouted, turning towards the hut. ‘You can’t make me leave Langani. We never leave James behind when we go on safari or to Mombasa. I’m not going to London, or to your stupid farm in Norway, without him.’
Lars strode forward, and Suniva yelped as he took hold of her arms and spun her around, forcing her to walk in front of him, and to struggle down the muddy slope to the Land Rover. When she fell and tore her trousers he helped her up in silence, ignoring her protests, keeping close behind her in case she should bolt into the thick bush. James followed them, without saying a word. He climbed into the back seat as Suniva took her place beside her father, an expression of pure rage on her face.
At the house Hannah came out when she heard the sound of the vehicle, running to open the car door and to take Suniva into her arms, sinking down onto her knees on the driveway, weeping with relief as she hugged her daughter before leading her into the house.
‘Esther, please make sure James has a hot shower and dry clothes,’ Lars said. ‘We don’t want him to catch cold. And don’t be kali with him. He has been punished enough.’
It was some time before they reassembled in the dining room. They sat through breakfast, Suniva pushing her food around her plate, mute and defiant. Both children looked self-conscious in their new clothes. When the meal was over, Mwangi brought the suitcases from the bedrooms and set them down on the verandah.
‘I need to put the last things in my cabin bag,’ Hannah said.
Lars nodded. ‘I’ll get everything else into the car, and keep an eye on these two.’
Half an hour later they were all piling into the old Mercedes and the staff had lined up on the driveway to say their farewells, faces beaming now that all had turned out well at the beginning of the great family safari across the sea. There was no sign of Esther or James, and Hannah did not know whether to be relieved, or to expect some further act of rebellion from her daughter who had not spoken a word since her return.
Suniva climbed into the car, withdrawn and pale, but instead of sitting down beside her brother, she knelt up on the seat to face out of the back window. And then she saw him, writhing in Esther’s grip, breaking free with a triumphant shout, running forward, waving frantically.
As they rounded the curve in the driveway, the only sound in the car was Suniva’s wild, primeval howling as she pressed her face to the glass, beating her hands on the window and screaming his name in desolation.
‘James! James! I’ll be back soon. I swear it. James …’
London, July 1977
The novelty of the long flight to London did nothing to dispel Suniva’s rebellious frame of mind. From the moment of departure from Langani she did not utter a word, other than an occasional monosyllabic response. In the aircraft she stared ahead, refusing to look out of the window, to eat, or to open the package of puzzles and games offered by the cabin steward. Piet tried to talk to her, but after a time he gave up and left his seat to explore the interior of the jumbo jet with a shining awe that increased tenfold when he was taken to the cockpit to meet the captain. He gazed, mesmerised, at the banks of flashing lights and knobs that controlled the huge beast, and it took a while to persuade him that it was time to return to his place in the main body of the plane. After dinner both children slept, Piet with his head on his mother’s lap, and Suniva curled in a defensive ball with her head hidden underneath a blanket. But Hannah and Lars remained awake, enjoying the luxury of champagne and quiet talk, holding hands, looking out at the accompanying stars and a pale moon that offered glimpses of dark, empty lands below them.
Streaks of dawn flooded the cabin with the promise of a new continent. Lars placed his son in the window seat and pointed out the green fields neatly framed by hedges, and the lines and squares of small houses butted up against each other in towns and villages, appearing and vanishing through the banked-up clouds. And then they saw the city itself, spread out for inconceivable miles on either side of the Thames. The river glittered, brown and silver in the early light of morning, spanned by bridges, flanked by ancient spires and towers and tall, modern buildings that stood side by side on the hallowed ground below.
‘I feel like crying,’ Hannah said softly. ‘It’s a new world for me, and yet I know it so well from the poems and books we read in school, and the films I’ve seen. I feel as though I’m dreaming, but you’ve brought us here for real, Lars. To see it for ourselves.’
Camilla met them on arrival, her face alight with pleasure. Looking at her, Hannah was struck again by her delicate beauty, and the way she seemed to drift rather than walk from place to place. Her skin was pale and luminous and her blonde hair fell into perfect shape each time she turned her head. She took only the most prestigious modelling assignments now, but her photograph was one of the first things that Hannah saw on a large billboard in the airport arrivals hall, in an advertisement for a new French perfume.
‘It’s been too long,’ Hannah said, moved by the tears in Camilla’s eyes.
‘I flew in from New York nearly three weeks ago, but I’ve had a punishing schedule since then,’ Camilla said, hugging the children, laughing and crying at the same time as she led them to a waiting limousine. ‘I wanted to clear my diary for the time that you are here, so that I could show you London myself and we could spend our time together. I’ve missed you so much, and I’ve promised myself never to stay away from home again, for so long. I can’t believe you are really here, or remember when I’ve looked forward so much to anything.’
In her Knightsbridge flat the children wandered from room to room, enjoying the view from the large third-floor windows over the leafy square below. Soon there was the aroma of coffee, and they were consuming flaky croissants from the patisserie around the corner.
‘It’s like living in a tree-house,’ Piet said, and even Suniva stood gazing out of the window with the hint of a smile on her face.
‘We should probably rest for a couple of hours,’ Hannah said. ‘Especially the children.’ But she knew that it would not be possible. She wanted to be where she could blend in with the pulse of the place, with the incessant drone of traffic, the horns and sirens, the growl of taxi cabs and the squeal of brakes at the bus stops on nearby Brompton Road.
And so they set out to conquer the city. At Lars’s request they travelled on the top of the double-decker buses, with Piet and Suniva in the front row as they lurched forward and sideways, seemingly about to topple over, or to collide with the cars and taxis and bicycles that swarmed below them. They stood outside Buckingham Palace and watched the Horse Guards coming up the Mall on their gleaming mounts with the sun glinting on tall, brass helmets, and hoped that the Queen would appear on the balcony of her palace. Later they lunched beside the river, carrying sandwiches and Pimm’s and lemonade out into the sunshine, and sitting at a trestle table to watch the slow barges go by and the crowds crossing Westminster Bridge.
‘You should have seen it during the Queen’s Silver Jubilee,’ Camilla said. ‘The atmosphere was wonderful, but it was mobbed and very difficult to get around.’
‘This is more than enough for me, in terms of crowds,’ Hannah said, sitting back in her chair, a little drunk from the Pimm’s. ‘I’m beat. I can’t do any more, except hope that I’ll make it back to the flat.’
‘I’m amazed you have lasted this long, having just stepped off a plane,’ Camilla said. ‘Dinner will be at home tonight. Just for us, although Tom may drop round for a drink. He hasn’t seen you for two years – not since he came to visit the new workshop at Langani – and he’d like to welcome you to London.’
Hannah was secretly disappointed at the thought of having to see anyone on this first night, least of all Tom Bartlett with his sharp wit and smart clothes and sophisticated London ways. He had become very close to Camilla over the years, offering loyal support as both agent and friend. But Hannah was sure he wanted more. She suspected his many girlfriends were a sham, as he waited for Camilla to realise that she belonged with him. Permanently. Now she wondered if Tom had finally become the main reason that Camilla had remained in London and New York for such a protracted length of time.
‘I’m looking forward to seeing him, but in the meantime I need to collapse for a while.’ Hannah was smiling, but her heart was filled with trepidation. It would not be a relaxing evening. ‘You have to rest now,’ she said to the children as she made her way to the bedroom. ‘Otherwise you can’t stay up for supper.’
‘Put your feet up and I’ll take care of these two,’ Camilla said. ‘I can be very stern when necessary.’
‘It’s hard for me to communicate with Tom.’ Hannah fell onto the bed beside Lars. ‘Even though he started Camilla’s modelling career. He has been consistently successful in promoting her line of clothes, and the things we make in our Langani workshop. But there’s something about him that doesn’t ring true with me.’
‘He’s a wheeler and dealer in a big city, and we’re a couple of farmers from the African bundu.’ Lars had already been felled by jetlag. ‘Still, I believe he’s genuine. He delivers on his promises to Camilla, and to us. We speak a different language, that’s all.’
Tom arrived with champagne and flowers, and gifts for the children. Piet crowed with delight as he unwrapped a model London bus with a remote control, and Suniva received bell bottomed trousers in lime green, with a matching tank top. She folded them carefully and returned them to their box, before sitting down opposite Tom to inspect him more closely, taking in his shoulder length hair, wide, flowered tie and flared trousers, and the polished boots with high heels. He had his arm draped around Camilla who sat beside him on the sofa, her head touching his shoulder. She had changed into a blue caftan, embroidered and decorated with beads and crystals by the bibis at Langani. Her hair had been tied back and she wore blue topaz earrings that mirrored the colour of her eyes.
‘Here’s to you,’ she said, looking at Lars and Hannah. ‘It’s been a wonderful day. I feel as though I’ve seen London for the first time, all over again.’
‘I love it even more than I had imagined,’ Hannah said. ‘It reminds me of school. Of learning “Westminster Bridge” and reading about the Great Fire of London and all the kings and queens. Do you remember Miss Moss? She used to read to us in English and history classes, trying so hard to make the words come alive. I wonder now if she was also trying to re-create it for herself. To keep it sharp in her memory. She’d been away from here for so long, but she still called London “home”. What do you suppose happened to her when she finally came back here, after Independence? Do you think she found it had changed, and was disappointed? I wonder if she was able to adapt, after thirty years in Africa.’
‘We weren’t kind to her,’ Camilla said. ‘We used to laugh at her, with her frumpy dresses that were all the same. She had that permed hair, dyed black like an old crow, with a tortoiseshell slide to keep it in place. And that dreadful dog. He looked like a sagging sausage, and farted and leaked all through the lessons. We didn’t understand, at that age, how dedicated she was. How could we, until we’d been thousands of miles from our own homes, to discover for ourselves what it was to long for another place and a time.’
‘Lucky I was here to console you, then,’ Tom said. His smile was sardonic, but he touched Camilla on the cheek with gentle affection.
‘You’re like people from a story book.’
Everyone turned to look at Suniva, who had spent the day trapped in her self-imposed, stony silence. Hannah gave a small sigh of relief at this first sign of a thaw. She stretched out a hand, but her daughter turned away, rejecting close contact.
‘We are story book people,’ Tom said. ‘That’s the fun of a big city like London. You don’t have to be the same person or do the same thing every day. You can decide who you would like to be when you wake up in the morning, depending on how you feel. You could act like the Queen, riding through London and waving at people from your car. Or you might want to be someone who sings and dances on the pavement. Or a fat pigeon that struts about waiting to crap on the tourists. Who would you like to be tomorrow?’
‘I’d like to be myself. At Langani.’ Suniva lowered her eyes, her expression sulky once more. There was an uncomfortable silence before her next question. ‘Are you Camilla’s boyfriend?’
‘No, I’m not.’ Tom’s laugh was forced. ‘I’m not that lucky. Right now I’m sitting next to her and happy to be her friend. And I’m celebrating the fact that she has come back from New York for a while. She doesn’t spend enough time in London any more.’
‘She doesn’t spend enough time in Kenya either,’ Hannah said.
‘I’ve already made a resolution to change the second thing,’ Camilla said, her face flushed. ‘Come and help me set the table, Suniva.’ She stood up, creating a distance between herself and Tom. ‘You’re welcome to stay for dinner, if you stop talking about me as though I’m not here. Is that a deal?’
He grinned and nodded, and Hannah was sure that he had become an ever-present figure in Camilla’s private life in London as well as being her agent. And perhaps more. She wondered how Anthony fitted into this picture. It was difficult to gauge whether he really mattered at all. His name had not been brought up all day, except for a brief enquiry on the way in from the airport.
‘Did you see Anthony before you left? Has he been at the lodge?’ Camilla’s tone had been light and it was impossible to see the expression in the blue eyes, shuttered by dark glasses.
‘I spoke to him on the radio the day before we left,’ Hannah said. ‘He was camping up in Meru, but he plans to drop in at Langani when he moves south with his clients.’
There had been no further mention of him, but the day had been so packed with activity that neither Hannah nor Lars had thought it strange.
They came to the dining table within a few moments, the children overtired and unable to smother yawns or to resist rubbing eyes that prickled. Hannah had gone beyond fatigue, and after the champagne and a second glass of wine she found herself more at ease with Tom who sat across from her, separated by the flicker of candlelight on stemmed glasses and silver, and bowls of summer flowers.
‘I’ve arranged a newspaper interview for you,’ he said.
‘For me?’ Hannah was astonished. ‘I don’t think I could—’
‘There are readers out there panting to know about the woman who turns out such exotic bags and belts and jackets from an old farm shed in the middle of darkest Africa. It’s unusual for ethnic things to hold their own in the fashion world for so long, even though there are such broad influences today.’
‘That’s because of Camilla’s changing designs,’ Hannah said, offended by his description of the workshop. ‘She is so well known, the embodiment of glamour. If she has made it, or she’s wearing it or carrying it around, then it must be right. I only supervise the cutting and the embroidery. I wouldn’t have anything to say to people involved in high fashion.’
‘Ah, but you’re the hidden light,’ Tom said. ‘In the workshop every day, keeping the quality high. That’s what Camilla says, and now that you’ve finally come to London we want to show you off. It’s a good angle in terms of press coverage. I’ve lined up a feature article in one of the glossy magazines – the Tatler will do a piece about you and Camilla, that will also feature the wildlife on the property, and Langani Lodge. And the Daily Mail will run an article too.’
She was about to protest when Lars clapped his hands in approval. ‘That is great news,’ he said. ‘She deserves it, my Hannah. It will be good publicity for us and for Kenya generally. When will it be, this interview?’
‘It’s a lunch party’ Camilla said. ‘With a tame reporter from the Daily Mail. Afterwards we’ll go to the Tatler offices. I’ve already sent round slide photos of us with Anthony at the lodge, and some pictures of the workshop that I’m sure they will use.’
‘I’ll take the children sightseeing on that day,’ said Lars. ‘There is no point in bringing them to lunch in a fancy restaurant.’ He saw the flash of relief on Tom’s face and resented it, even though the suggestion had been his own.