‘I’ll make you feel better.’

‘You do, just by being here.’

‘You know what I mean.’

She looked so serious I almost laughed. ‘Come on.’ I led her to the bedroom; she didn’t resist.

Inside the room, I guided her onto the bed. My heart was hammering so hard I could feel it throbbing in my fingers and toes. This was the moment. Sylvie seemed almost calm, but I could sense something underneath it; I saw it in her quick blink, in her mouth, which trembled before she pressed her finger against it. I heard it when I took off my clothes, and she let out a sound – half pant, half sigh.

‘I’ve wanted to do this for so long,’ I said. I stood in front of her, and let her see me, let her take in the full extent of how I felt about her.

‘You think I’m beautiful?’ she asked.

‘More than beautiful.’

She put out her hand to touch me and I willed my body to keep control. Her eyes were huge and doe-like.

‘Why shouldn’t we, then?’ she said, and the blood that had been swelling my body filled my ears with a triumphant roar.

Chapter Eighteen

It was strangely cool when I arrived at Kiboko a few days later, and Maud was sewing near the fire in the sitting room. I bent down to kiss her.

‘You look terrible,’ she said. ‘Exhausted.’

‘Thank you.’

I dropped into a chair opposite her. I’d spent the last seventy-two hours unable to do anything but think of Sylvie. I was more sure than ever that we were meant to be together, even though she’d been frustratingly vague when I’d left The Farm – smiling at me, but making no promises. I needed to tell someone about her, but for some reason I’d held back when I’d seen Freddie. I’d thought of writing to Douglas, but he didn’t know her. Eventually I’d realised it had to be Maud, although now I was here, I didn’t know how to bring it up.

‘How’s Lucy?’

‘Busy.’

‘That’s a shame.’

‘I suppose so.’ I knew if anything more happened between Sylvie and me I should end things with Lucy, but at the same time I didn’t want to. She wasn’t Sylvie but she was sweet and pretty and loving. But I’d cross that bridge later. ‘Where’s Scotty?’

She put down her sewing. ‘Abdullah’s taken him for a walk. He was getting too fat to fit in his kennel.’

‘Is there anything to drink?’

She called for two glasses of wine and a new toto brought them to us. He was young and very black, muscular, but with long, pale eyelashes. He carried the tray lightly, as if he was indifferent to it.

‘Thank you, Bulawayo,’ Maud said.

‘Thank you, Mama,’ he said.

I grinned at her. ‘Cheers, Mama.’