I didn’t see where she came from or how she got a knife but suddenly Boitumelo was there. She held the knife over her head with both hands. She plunged it with all of her might into the big man’s chest, before he even had a chance to react. He fell backward and Rachel escaped to where we all stood, pulling Boitumelo with her.

We watched the blood pump out of the man’s chest and all over the beige carpeting of Sister Agnes’ office.

Rachel held Boitumelo and repeated over and over into her ear that everything would be fine. Boitumelo was wearing the cheap satin nightgown Sister Agnes forced all of the girls to put on when they were brought here for her ‘fundraising activities’, as she liked to call them.

Time seemed to pass so slowly. It was cold and Boitumelo was shaking. Rachel took her coat off and wrapped her in it. Then we heard the distant tapping of Sister Agnes’ boots, the sound growing louder as she neared.

Opening the door she spotted the blood. She looked around and then she turned and saw us. She suddenly seemed much smaller and weaker, as if our eyes had been seeing her in the wrong light for so long.

Rachel came forward. “Sit in your chair!” she ordered.

In shock, Sister Agnes sat and Karata quickly tied her wrists up with pieces of wire and Rachel taped up her mouth.

“I don’t want to hear another word from you,” Rachel told her. “Ever again.”

We waited until morning. Just as the sun came through the east window, the boarding matron and the night watchman burst through the doors, letting in fresh air, and the light of a new day.

* * * * *

Sister Agnes was carted away. Rachel took the blame for killing the big man and none of us said otherwise. It was deemed self defence. There was a cursory police investigation, and it was soon forgotten. No-one wanted the truth about any of it to get out. The school was closed shortly afterwards.

When Boitumelo’s mother and stepfather reluctantly pitched up to take her back home, she was nowhere to be found; neither was Rachel. A search was half-heartedly launched but soon abandoned. Nobody cared much about two lost girls. They were throw-aways in any case.

I went home and managed to finish school. I sometimes see Rebina in the newspapers; she’s Botswana’s first professional female boxer. Karata got married to the son of a very wealthy man; I wonder what stuff she is filling the rooms of her house with. Ludo writes most every month. She’s finishing a short course to become a librarian. Kgalalelo works at a sweets shop in the big mall in Gaborone. Mafiso moved to South Africa and counsels women at an abortion clinic there.

None of us have ever heard from Rachel or Boitumelo again. But I know where they are. They are living in the silence of those ancient hills. I know it in my heart that they’re out there in the hills, finally, living the peaceful life of their dreams.

* * * * *

Tell us what you think: What crimes should Sister Agnes be charged with?