It was as if she had hit him in the face.

‘My brother’s? What are you talking about?’

‘I should lie to you, Eyes of the Sky? Remember the time in the stable? When you found me crying, with my dress torn?’

‘You never told me. Why didn’t you tell me you had a baby by him?’

‘Look what it’s doing. And when should I have told you? When you came to our camp? When we met each other out there?’

‘When we talked about Toma. When I told you what happened between me and my brother, why I left. Before now, Zokho. Before this.’

She looked down at her feet. He’d never been angry with her before.

‘Where’s the child?’

‘He didn’t live.’

Roeloff turned away.

‘Don’t walk away from me,’ she pulled at his arm.

He jerked himself free.

‘That was then, this is now!’ she shouted after him.

Roeloff paid no attention and walked on.

Darkness came with a thickness of breath, a moonless night on the mountain. Zokho waited patiently for the crunch of his boots on the path and, when it looked like he wouldn’t be back, she pinched out the flame of the lamp and went to bed. She hadn’t heeded the words of the old people. Never tell the one that feeds you everything. She had thought she knew all about a woman’s fears. She didn’t. A woman could also lose a man to the past.

When she heard Roeloff come in, towards morning, she closed her eyes.

‘Zokho, are you awake?’

She stirred, as if in a deep sleep.

‘Zokho, Zokho,’ he pulled her towards him, his hand exploring the smoothness of her skin. ‘I’m sorry. We’ll have this baby and forget the other. It wasn’t your fault.’

Zokho curled herself up in his arms and cried quietly into the sheepskin.

In the morning he got up to light the fire to make coffee. He was warming his hands over the kettle when Zokho came rushing out, her hand covering her mouth. He listened to the retching behind the dwelling. It hadn’t taken hold of him yet, the reality of becoming a father, of what he had done. He’d rinsed his blood with hers and there would be a child. A baster. One who would carry his name.

‘I feel bad,’ she said, coming round the corner.

He handed her a mug of coffee.

‘Drink this, it will make you strong.’

‘It was the smell that did it. I don’t want any.’

He took the mug back for himself and followed her inside.

‘I’ll talk to Wynand Roos about staying on another six months, or a year. We’re not ready. Especially now, with the baby coming.’

‘You like it here?’

‘We have somewhere to lay our heads. And he keeps his thoughts to himself. It might be different elsewhere.’

‘And his daughter?’

‘Neeltje?’

‘You have feelings for her?’

He was surprised by the question.

‘Feelings?’

‘I’ve seen how she looks at you. You do things for her.’

‘Doing things for her is not bad, Zokho. She’s alone.’

‘She has her father.’

‘Her father’s her father, that’s all. She has no one to talk to. I feel sorry for her.’

‘Sorry will lead to other things. Next time you’ll feel sorry she has no husband. What then? I have no husband either.’

‘I don’t know you like this, Zokho. I thought you liked Neeltje.’

‘I like her, but she has powers. It will come between us. You can’t see this. Why do we need this farm? We can live out in the world. We will eat, sleep, and live like all my people.’

‘You’re talking foolish things now. If we had a wagon, it would be different. And where would we get oxen without money? The farmer has four and they are hardly sufficient for these mountains. When I said we would go to the Cape, I wasn’t thinking of the hardships of such a journey, only of the adventure. This isn’t an adventure, Zokho. Look at us. We can’t just drift around. I have nothing. You’re going to have a baby. We need money.’ He sipped his coffee, and came to sit next to her on the bed. ‘As for Neeltje, I see her as a sister. It’s not necessary for you to worry about that.’

‘She’s not your concern.’

‘You’re making it my concern, the way you’re talking. Stop now, or you’ll spoil the thing that separates you from others. I have chosen you, Zokho. Above everyone.’

‘You do not wish to play marriage with her?’

‘No. But I have feeling for her of a brother. She be an Africaander like me.’

Wynand rested his foot on the shovel and turned his face into the rain. The weather had turned suddenly in the afternoon, and dark clouds hung grape-like above them.

‘It’s going to be a bad one this year. No use working on in this rain, let’s go in. I want to talk to you about a kraal I want to build for the sheep.’

Roeloff wiped the wet hair out of his face.

‘There’s something I want to talk to you about, too.’