Blood. It’s everywhere. Rocks, fist-sized and larger, scatter the area: many are bloody. There’s a body: a man’s. He’s on his back. His head is a mess. A woman leans over him. She feels his neck. Her shoulders are heaving; she’s sobbing. Several men are standing around, milling aimlessly; they don’t know what to do.
It is reported in the British press as a tragic accident in Angola. This story suits the majority of those present, until Sophie Addison turns up. What is her interest and why has it taken thirty years for anyone to question what happened? But one thing is clear to all who meet Sophie, and that is who she is. She cannot be ignored. How and why did James Lodge die on that dusty mine road thirty years ago?
These questions had either been forgotten or buried by all those involved.
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