Freddie caught my eye. I smiled at him. ‘And now we have the technology,’ he continued, ‘so the natives work for us. They build our houses, they tend our crops, they cook and clean for us, and in return we give them clothes and meat, we protect them from enemy tribes and wild animals.’ He signalled for more wine. ‘We need them, so we should treat them well. But we’re not equal, as much as the colonial office thinks they can just pass a law saying we are.’

‘It’d be a bloody disaster,’ Soames said. ‘The crops would be gone, the houses would be falling down. They’d all be living with their eight wives in one mud hut again.’

‘Is that so?’ Sylvie had been unusually quiet up until now. She took out her cigarette case and leaned forwards to light the cigarette on a candle between us. I hoped she’d look at me, but she kept her gaze downcast.

I took a sip of my wine, suddenly irritated. I resented being so cut off from anyone I wanted to talk to privately, and the general conversation was going in circles. No one seemed to consider the possibility that the Africans might not want everything we’d built for them. I’d spent long enough back in Britain to see that not everyone appreciated being paternalised. ‘Have any of you heard of the King of the Wa-Kikuyu?’ I asked, remembering a story Douglas had told me once.

‘Another bloody jumped-up native?’ Soames said.

‘He was from Yorkshire actually.’

‘What about him?’ Freddie asked.

‘Apparently he ran away from home at thirteen, and set himself up as some sort of leader of an East African territory. He flew the Union Jack outside his house, and held court there, passing sentences and leading raids against other villages.’

Everyone laughed.

‘Good man,’ Freddie said. ‘What happened to him?’

‘The British authorities arrested him.’

‘Typical,’ Freddie said, pointing at Byrne. ‘We come out here – the dreamers, the ambitious – to make our mark and help the country out, and the British government won’t let us.’

Byrne held up his hands. ‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘The colonial office isn’t going to pass a law along those lines for quite some time. Especially not if the High Constable of Scotland is breathing down their necks. I told you you belonged in politics, Hamilton.’

‘Hear, hear,’ Martha said.

‘You know, I can’t understand you, Byrne,’ Freddie said. ‘Surely you need more people on your side, not against you.’

‘I respect intelligence,’ Byrne said, leaning back in his chair.

‘Freddie tends to use his other brain most of the time, don’t you Freddie?’ Soames said.

Freddie grinned.