Burn My Heart by Beverley Naidoo Page A

stretch of thicker bush to the right where grazing was more difficult and where the grass was still longer.
    The two of them had remained neck and neck but as they descended the dip, Lance took the lead. A small rucksack bobbed on his back. He began to veer away from the dairy buildings, heading along a rocky path that cut between some prickly pear bushes.
    ‘Aren’t we going to see Titanic Lady?’ Mathew panted.
    Lance ignored the question. He was up to something.
    ‘Where are we going?’
    ‘Quit worrying!’ Lance called over his shoulder. ‘Just follow me!’
    Mathew fell silent. His heart was pumping rapidly from running. They appeared to be heading for where the bush was most dense. It occurred to him that although Lance was so confident, he had grown up mostly in Nairobi and knew much less about the bush than he did.
    The grass was waist deep either side of the pathbefore Lance began to slow down. It was just the kind of place where you could easily be taken by surprise.
    ‘Why are we going this way?’ Mathew felt a burst of anger. ‘We don’t even have your gun!’
    ‘Cool down, Mat. I couldn’t ask Mum for the keys to the safe and my gun, just for going to the dairy, could I?’ Lance laughed softly. ‘It’ll be worth it, trust me. We’re nearly there!’
    ‘Where?’ Mathew hissed in frustration.
    ‘A place you won’t forget.’
    Shortly afterwards, Lance crouched down and signalled Mathew to do the same.
    ‘Keep your head down,’ he commanded.
    They crept forward. Every now and again, Lance raised his head a little but any time that Mathew tried to do so, Lance waved him down. At last, Lance left the path and directed Mathew to follow. They shuffled behind a bush that looked to Mathew like the small poison-arrow tree that Kamau used to warn him about. The leaves, bark and roots made both medicine and poison. Lance delved into his bag and produced a pair of binoculars.
    ‘I’ll check what we can see from here,’ Lance whispered. ‘Don’t look yet.’
    Lance pushed aside the long grass beside the poison-arrow tree and peered through the binoculars. Mathew was left to sit on his heels and listen to hundreds of cicadas piercing his ears.Mugo once told him that the males sang to attract their mates. They sounded to Mathew like they were going mad.
    He felt thoroughly fed up and was wondering what would happen if he ignored his instructions, when Lance crawled back. He held the binoculars out in his left hand but before he gave them to Mathew, he raised the palm of his right hand.
    ‘Remember,’ Lance breathed. ‘Not a word.’
    Mathew held up his hand and they pressed palms. Mathew slithered into position. He poked the binoculars through the grass and rested them on the bony ridges protecting his eyes. There was a round grey blur until he swivelled the knob. A high barbed-wire fence came into focus. That was nothing unusual. But above it rose a wooden watchtower. High up, two guards carried rifles in a square lookout post. A little shock rippled through him as he lowered the binoculars and focused behind the fence. It was like a picture from the war in Europe! So many people herded together behind the wire, like he’d seen in a magazine from England that his parents had bought and kept after the war ended. If the watchtower had been concrete and steel, it would look just like the one in the photo of the Nazi concentration camp. In the far distance, at the side of a low building inside the camp, he spotted a jeep.
    ‘What’s going on?’ Mathew pulled himself up.
    ‘It’s dead secret,’ said Lance. ‘Dad’s screening this lot to find who are Mau Mau. I reckon that’s the Morrisons’ labour down there – and their house servants.’
    ‘Why doesn’t he take them to the police station?’ Mathew was confused. Inspector Smithers belonged to the Police Reserve and there was a police compound in town.
    ‘It’s better here. Dad’s in charge with his own team. He gets results,’ Lance