She smiled. ‘You talk like there’s no good in people.’

I opened my mouth to mention Sylvie, but I’d lost her attention. The sound of a car jolting up the driveway floated in on the chill air.

‘That’s Mother,’ Maud said. She tidied away the sewing and opened the screen door.

I heard footsteps on the veranda, and my mother’s voice saying, ‘Thank you, Maud,’ then she was standing in the doorway, a dark shape against the sunset behind her. She kissed Maud, then spotted me and came over. She was wearing a long grey skirt and cream blouse. Her hair was pinned up and I saw a hint of grey in that too that I hadn’t noticed in Nairobi.

‘How are you?’ I asked, standing and kissing her.

‘Tired,’ she said. ‘Does Joseph know there’ll be three of us tonight?’

‘Yes,’ Maud said.

‘You’re much better at this than I ever was,’ my mother said.

She took off her jacket, gloves and hat and handed them to Bulawayo, who’d been leaning against the dining room doorway, staring at us unabashed. ‘I see you’ve started on the wine,’ she said.

‘Join us?’ I asked.

She nodded and I signalled to Bulawayo, who disappeared.

We sat, the two of them on the sofa, me facing them on the armchair.

‘And to what do we owe this pleasure?’ my mother asked. ‘Any news in particular?’

‘Just felt like seeing my family.’

‘Will you be coming home for your birthday this year?’

‘I don’t know. It’s not exactly a special one.’

‘You should count yourself lucky. Not everyone makes it to twenty-three.’

Too late I remembered her brother had died a week before his twenty-third birthday.

Bulawayo reappeared with more wine for the three of us. We chose glasses and I took a long drink of mine.

‘You can go now, Bulawayo.’ My mother’s voice was harder now. ‘So, Theo, what are your thoughts about staying on at the firm?’

‘I’d rather not do it forever.’

‘Your father’s hoping you’ll be his successor. And he’s sixty-two – he should be retiring soon.’

‘He doesn’t have to choose the new Director.’

‘He’d like to be involved in the process.’

I finished my wine and called for Bulawayo, who appeared straight away. ‘Another glass,’ I said, handing over my empty one. I thought I saw him smirk, but it was gone the next second. ‘Well, it’s my decision, Mother.’

‘And when will you make it?’ She drummed her fingers on the arm of the sofa. ‘I don’t understand why it takes you so long to get anything done.’

‘Yes, I’ve always been a disappointment to you, haven’t I?’

‘Theo,’ Maud murmured. ‘Don’t do this.’

Bulawayo returned with two full glasses.

‘Thank you,’ I said, accepting mine. I tried not to look at my mother’s face.

He presented the second glass to her.