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His smile was gentle as he said, ‘I can come back if I need to.’ A moment passed while he negotiated his way through an intersection. ‘So, it turns out that the blockhouse line split at Bethlehem. One line followed the road down towards Fouriesburg and the other ran across to Harrismith.’ He looked at her, clearly expecting to see understanding dawn across her face, but she remained blank. He sighed. ‘Goshen sits right in the middle. If, as Rachel says, they were growing food for the troops, it would have been perfectly placed. Those blockhouses were manned by British infantry – at least seven men, but sometimes double that. They were built about a kilometre apart, in sight of one another, and joined by barbed wire. That’s a lot of blockhouses. And a hell of a lot of men to feed.’

Hannah lay her head back against the headrest and smiled at him. ‘You almost sound excited.’

He kept his eyes front but smiled. ‘Okay. Go ahead.’

‘Go ahead with what?’

‘You know you want to.’

She scrunched her brows. ‘Want to what?’

‘You’ve been dying, from the first time we met, to put me in my place.’ He swung one arm wide. ‘Go ahead. I told you so. I told you it was true. I told you this was real. I told you this was gripping. Come on.’

‘No. It doesn’t have the same effect. You can’t tell me to tell you so. There’s no satisfaction in being prompted. I need to wait for my own “na-na-na-na-na” moment.’

He shot her an amused glance. ‘Fine.’

‘Fine,’ she said, shutting her eyes but allowing a grin to play on her lips.

She must have fallen asleep, because she awoke with Alistair’s hand on her shoulder, not shaking her awake but running down her arm, softly. She sat up, pushing her hair off her face. Alistair came around to her side of the pickup, opening her door, but she stayed in her seat.

‘You okay?’ he said.

‘I feel a bit ridiculous. Like Rachel’s waiting in there for me. When I open her journal again, she’ll be there, still longing for them, still hoping they’re okay, and now I know the truth. It’s awful. Even just a touch of her grief is so heavy. I can’t deal with it. I don’t want to deal with someone else’s grief!’

When she glanced up at him, he was still holding the door open for her, but his face had closed. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said quickly, ‘I didn’t mean you…’

He stepped away onto the curb, pulling the door wide, and she climbed out, feeling drained and inadequate.

She let him open the gate for her and escort her up the steps to the deck. Joseph was sprawled on a lounger there.

‘My favourite farmer,’ he said, swinging his legs to the side and reaching up a hand for Alistair to shake. ‘Productive day?’

‘Revealing,’ said Alistair.

Hannah stepped towards the French door. ‘I think I’m going to lie down for a bit. Thanks for driving me, Alistair.’ She disappeared inside, leaving Joseph staring after her.

‘Is she okay?’ she could hear him ask Alistair.

She had scrubbed her face clean and was tying her hair back in front of the bathroom mirror, when she looked up to find Joseph lounging against the doorframe. ‘What happened up there that has both of you acting so weirdly?’

She ignored him.

‘What happened?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Alistair says you found out the Badenhorsts all died in a camp.’

‘Yes.’ She stepped past him, and he followed her back into the kitchen where she picked up her keys off the counter.

‘I thought you weren’t feeling well,’ he said.

As she walked out onto the deck, she said over her shoulder, ‘I’m just going across to Kathryn’s. I’ll be back for supper. Maybe you could make some for a change.’

‘You don’t know my cooking,’ he called after her. ‘You’ll have to take your chances.’ But she didn’t respond, walking quickly out the gate and disappearing around the corner.

Hannah found Kathryn serving her last table. A family were enjoying coffees and pretty milkshakes, the children shrieking in delight at the tall plastic glasses, piled with marshmallows and sprinkles. Hannah pulled out a bar stool at the counter and asked Maisie for a pot of tea. She soon had a pot covered in a pink-and-grey crocheted tea cosy which she found immensely comforting. Kathryn came up behind her and, placing a hand on her shoulder, spoke across the counter to Maisie, ‘Please take over that table – they want double fudge cupcakes all round.’ She pulled out another stool, still with her hand on Hannah’s shoulder, and sat down. The gentleness communicated through Kathryn’s touch brought hot tears to Hannah’s eyes.

‘I’ve been thinking about you today, hon,’ said Kathryn. ‘Something to do with Alistair and Marilie?’

Hannah turned swimming eyes to Kathryn. ‘How do you do that? When I first arrived, you spoke like this too – like you know stuff without being told. Are you clairvoyant or something?’

Kathryn laughed and shook her head. ‘Nooo!’ She stood up on the rungs of her stool and reached over for another cup, pouring herself tea from Hannah’s pot. She said matter-of-factly, ‘It’s Holy Spirit stuff. I’ve learnt to listen to him, but I want to hear this story from you.’

A part of Hannah’s brain wondered at her own lack of surprise or suspicion of something so weird, but deeper than that was the fact that she trusted Kathryn completely. ‘Alistair and I went to Bloemfontein to do some research today. It was all going so well, and then I found out that Rachel’s sisters, her mother, and her grandfather died in the Winburg camp. I just felt so desolate afterwards.’ She shook her head. ‘I can’t explain it. Then I shot my mouth off to Alistair, saying I can’t deal with someone else’s grief, that it feels like too much. He shut down after that.’ Kathryn tutted, making Hannah bridle. ‘What? You think I was insensitive too? Don’t you think he should be over her by now? Eight years, Kathryn!’

Kathryn put her hand on Hannah’s arm to draw her attention fully. ‘It’s not just the loss of his wife he had to get over, Hannah. Alistair carries the scars of that day on his face, and no doubt scars of that day in his mind for the rest of his life. He lost his life as he knew it. Esme has attacked him over and over. The press picked up the story because Marilie was so well known in sports circles. People came crawling all over the farm, looking for where it happened, for the blood stain on the driveway.’ Kathryn caught Hannah’s raised brows. ‘No, really, they did. Which is why he is so wary of strangers on the farm. That he is allowing this dig at all is a miracle, and perhaps testament to how much he feels for you.’

Hannah shook her head, not wanting to deal with that added load of emotion.

‘Hannah, he is a kind, gentle, damaged man who deserves to live again. Don’t step away from him.’

‘I’m not strong enough to deal with all of it.’

‘Who said you aren’t strong?’ Kathryn’s voice had sharpened.

‘Todd… my mother… me.’ Hannah twisted her hands in her lap.

‘Stop it this instant!’

Hannah looked up in surprise at her friend’s fierce face. Kathryn was oblivious to the curious glances from the occupied table, her eyes flashing. ‘You haven’t even begun to discover the depths of your strength, but you will. You have made a new start here. It could be a new life. Don’t run away now, at the first obstacle. Why do you think you have such a connection with Rachel? Because she was strong like you, a survivor like you. You’ll see.’ Kathryn settled back down and Hannah thought of a bird unruffling its feathers.

‘More tea?’ Kathryn asked, as if her mini tirade had never happened.