‘I do. But not the way it was before. Can’t we be friends now instead?’

My mind was still trying to make sense of what had just happened. ‘Are you in love with Freddie?’

‘No, God no.’ She tried to take my hand but I stood up, forcing her to step backwards. It felt as though she’d wrapped a metal band around my chest, squeezing the air out. She looked down. ‘You don’t want this either, really.’

‘Don’t I get to decide that?’

‘I know things were always difficult with your mother –’

‘I don’t see what that has to do with it.’

‘Don’t you?’

She caught my eye and I felt my face flare up. ‘You can’t possibly think – please don’t twist this into an issue. You’re nothing like my mother.’

‘That was the point, wasn’t it?’

Her voice was soft with sympathy, and for a moment I hated her. I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you, I wanted to say. Don’t cheapen it like that.

I pictured my mother, wherever she was, with that disapproving look I knew so well from my childhood. The thought flashed through my mind that she would be glad to come between me and Sylvie, and then another that I’d be glad if she died right now.

‘Should I leave then?’ I choked on the words.

‘Don’t be mad, darling.’

‘Don’t throw me away.’

‘You’ll come back soon, when you’ve calmed down? You’ll see – it’ll be so much better when you’re not tied to an old woman like me.’ She was trying to make her voice light.

I couldn’t look at her or spend another minute in the room. I picked up my jacket and shoes and left the house barefoot. I threw them in the back seat and drove off without looking back. I half expected her to change her mind and chase after me, but after a mile I realised she wasn’t coming.

Chapter Twenty-One

Freddie steered the yacht towards the jetty. It was March 1935, and the autumn winds were hardly out. The sail fluttered briefly as we turned, then fell still again. The lake seemed bluer than ever, its surface smooth as glass, rippling only as we cut through it or when yellow, green and black kingfishers skimmed it in search of food.

‘We should do this more often,’ Freddie said. ‘You know, I can’t even remember the last time I saw you.’

‘It was before Christmas,’ I said. ‘At the Njoro meeting.’ I’d been lucky to catch him. Usually Martha was alone when I dropped off the medicine, but this time Freddie had met me at the door and suggested taking the boat out.

‘That long ago?’ He shrugged. ‘I suppose I’ve been busy.’

‘Campaigning?’