‘Yes.’

‘And all these people?’

Sanna looked at him. Her eyes told the whole story.

‘Oh, no …’

‘He’s very sick, Roff. Oubaas Retief and his grandson brought the … they brought the …’

‘The coffin?’

‘He’s not like he was when you last saw him. The disease has eaten his flesh.’

‘Is that Vinkie over there next to Drieka? She’s grown tall.’

‘That’s her. She’s taking it very hard.’

‘What happened to David?’

Sanna nodded sadly.

‘Your father shot him.’

‘What?’

‘The morning after Christmas. David woke up with the devil in him and hit Soela in her parents’ home, took the mirror to her head. Your father stopped him from killing her. When it was discovered that she—well, you’ll soon hear. That child standing next to Diena, Bessie, it’s Soela’s. Diena’s married now. That’s kleinbaas Lourens, her husband, next to oubaas Retief.’

‘What happened to Soela?’

‘She sits all day looking out the window. Doesn’t speak. Diena looks after her. It’s sad what’s happened here, Roff. Your father changed after you left, and after David, he went downhill. I’m glad you’re back.’

From where she sat on the wagon, Neeltje looked at the large Koi-na woman talking to Roeloff. Sanna had the same sallow complexion as the workers on her father’s farm, and wore a red cloth wound round her head. Neeltje took an instant liking to her, and handed Beatrix down to her.

‘Welcome back, Roeloff. It’s good to see you.’

Roeloff turned and greeted Jan Joubert, who had come up behind him. Joubert had changed only in weight; his smile was buried under a bushy beard, only a hint of it reaching his eyes.

‘Good to be back. This is Neeltje, my wife. Her father be Wynand Roos. And my son, Harman, and daughter, Beatrix. Hello, Oom Piet, Hennie.’

Pietie Retief grabbed hold of him.

‘Welcome, welcome. You’ve come back for good?’

He understood the question.

‘I don’t know.’

‘Glad you’re back, man. This place was dead without you and the bosjesman.’

Roeloff smiled. You could always count on Pietie Retief to call the devil by his name.

Then Joubert spoke again. ‘You know your father’s sick?’

‘Yes.’

‘Drieka has had her hands full since the illness. Diena and Lourens moved in to give her a hand.’

‘That was good of them.’

Then the women arrived and everyone talked at once, ushering them up on the stoep. Elsie hadn’t changed much, except that her lips seemed thinner, but Diena was a surprise, with her hair cut short to ear level, and several months pregnant. Drieka had thickened around the waist, and she had blue circles under her eyes. Vinkie, who had shot up like a sunflower, was smiling shyly at him. Her shyness lasted only a few seconds, then she rushed into his arms.

‘Roff!’

‘How are you, Tinktinkie?’

‘I’ve missed you, so much,’ she hugged him. ‘Oh, Roff,’ and she started to cry.

They held each other for a few moments, then he released her and introduced his wife to everyone.

The kitchen was as he’d left it: the heavy table, the benches, the cupboard against the wall holding dishes and condiments, plates of beskuit, the guns and powder horn on the wall in their usual place, the fire in the hearth burning winter and summer, glistening black and silver with kettles and pots, emitting wonderful aromas. But it wasn’t the smell of mutton roasting or bread baking outside that registered first, it was the stench of living flesh rotting. It brought him instantly to the putrid death smell at Oupa Herman’s funeral.

‘The kommando didn’t let us know they found you. We could have prepared,’ Drieka said.

‘They didn’t find me. The news got to me in the Cederberg through the doctor who came to deliver Beatrix.’

‘We’re glad you’re back,’ Pietie Retief said again. ‘It’s a sad thing to come home like this. Brace yourself, son, before you go in.’

Roeloff nodded. Now that he was in the kitchen with his wife and children, he didn’t know where he should put down his things. Diena noticed his discomfort.

‘You can have your old room, Roff. Lourens and I are happy to give it up now that you’re here.’

‘I don’t want to disrupt things. We can stay in the voorkamer.’

‘Your father’s in there. And don’t worry, Lourens and I want to get back, you can have your room. Come, Neeltje, you look tired. Let me show you where things are.’

Neeltje left with Diena and Vinkie, who seemed taken with Harman and the baby. Roeloff looked round at the others, then braced himself and went into the voorkamer.

There was an awkward silence when he left. Cups were stirred, benches shifted, but no one spoke. The prodigal son had returned. Along with his wagon and horses and wife and children, he’d come upon them like the wind, fast and unexpected, and no one wanted to be first to give his opinion.

‘His wife’s the image of Vinkie,’ Joubert said. ‘Have you noticed? He picked well. I haven’t heard of her family.’

‘Who do you think the boy looks like?’ Drieka asked. ‘His eyes. There’s something strange about them. Like I’ve seen them before.’

‘There’s nothing strange,’ Retief said. ‘He looks like Roeloff.’

‘Well, Neeltje’s not his mother, that I’ll say.’

Everyone looked at Drieka. That was dangerous talk.