He was avoiding her name, but I knew what he was thinking. My father had been the most disappointed to hear Lucy’s and my relationship was over; my mother had nodded once, asked if I wanted a drink, and never mentioned it again. Maybe Lucy had been right that night on the beach, when she’d hinted that my mother didn’t like her. Maybe I should have paid more attention to her opinions. I tried to remember what else we’d talked about: trains – I think they’re romantic, she’d said.

I looked across at my father – they were romantic for him, too; the big romance of his life. I wondered what he’d thought when he first came out to Kenya, a big empty country with its burnt, dry colours, and scatterings of trees across vast plains of yellow grass; the smell of smoke and spice on the air. I could picture the way he would have looked at the ground in surprise when his whole body shook with the vibrations of a stampede. Building the railway then would have been like building to the edge of the world. My father was a conqueror, I thought, and I understood why he was so proud of his work, even if the settlers laughed at him and the trains were slow and dirty and people were looking to the skies for travel now.

I cleared my throat.

He was playing with his pocket watch. ‘Well, what do you say to the grand plan? My legacy?’ He blinked suddenly. ‘I don’t want to force you, of course. I just thought if I can’t pass on the directorship to you, at least we could share this.’

‘I’d be happy to help.’

‘Do you mean it?’

‘I do.’

He beamed at me. ‘Splendid. We’ll have a proper meeting later on this week. Put some plans forwards.’ He struggled out of his chair. ‘Lunch at the club together today?’

I tried not to let my surprise show. ‘Two o’clock?’

‘Perfect.’

After he left I walked to the window and rested my forehead against the glass. A few months ago I would have wanted to share my news with Lucy and Sylvie, the strange stirring I’d felt at my father’s invitation to lunch, but now they were both gone.

Next to me, a translucent gecko ran halfway down the wall, then paused as if sensing danger, its black eyes bright even in the gloom of the office. With its pale, pointy face, it reminded me of Carberry. I put out my hand, letting the shadow rest on the animal, and the gecko’s tail flicked.

I lowered my arm. ‘Not today,’ I said to it.