‘Jessie Miller,’ my mother said warily. ‘My husband is William and these two are Theo and Maud.’

‘Come into the garden, Maud,’ he said.

‘My favourite poem.’ My mother smiled and I realised, thankfully, that she wasn’t going to be difficult.

‘I should congratulate you on two very good-looking children,’ Freddie said, and I felt he was looking at me particularly when he said it. ‘But how could they be otherwise with such an attractive mother?’ He clapped his hand on my shoulder and I started. ‘How old are you, Theo?’

‘Nearly fifteen,’ I said, at the same time that my mother said, ‘Fourteen.’

‘You make friends so quickly, Freddie,’ a woman said, and I felt myself tense under his hand as she came into the light, her eyes even darker and wider than before. I caught a hint of her scent in the air – musky and fruity, and intoxicating, like her voice, which was husky, with an American twang. It was nothing like the voice I’d given her in all the conversations I’d imagined us having over the last few days.

She was so close to me that I could have reached out my right hand and touched her. She was wearing the same outfit as before, with the addition of a small monkey perched on her shoulder. Now she was standing, I could see how long her legs were.

‘He’s called Roderigo,’ she said, and I realised she must have been watching me. ‘I’m Sylvie de Croÿ.’

‘These are the Millers,’ Freddie said. ‘Jessie, Theo and Maud.’

‘Can I hold him?’ Maud asked.

‘Of course you can.’ Sylvie offered her forefinger to Roderigo, who wrapped his paws around it, and swung him off her shoulder into Maud’s lap.

‘He doesn’t bite, does he?’ my mother asked.

‘This one’s tame,’ Freddie said.

‘Freddie bought him for me,’ Sylvie said. ‘He knows a man.’

‘You have to be careful who you buy them from. The locals know we like to have them as pets, so sometimes they wait underneath marula trees and catch them as they fall out, then pretend they’ve been domesticated for years.’

He still had his hand on my shoulder, weighing on me. I’d come across boys like him at school – popular, witty, larger-than-life. In comparison to them I’d always felt smaller and wirier than ever, with big, clumsy hands and feet.

I cleared my throat, trying to get my voice to sound as confident as Freddie’s. ‘What makes them fall out?’

‘Marula fruit gets them soused,’ he said.

‘He’s so sweet,’ Maud said.

‘He’s very naughty,’ Sylvie said, and smiled slowly.

‘And what brings you all to Kenya?’ Freddie asked.

‘That would be my husband,’ my mother said.

‘He’s the new Director of the railway,’ I said.