‘If you’re going to be working up here, will you still be staying in Nairobi?’ she asked.

‘Probably.’

She nodded. I couldn’t tell if she looked disappointed or relieved.

‘You can come visit me.’

‘Maybe. The loan’s about to go through now. But it would be nice to see you all.’

‘Us all?’

‘You and Father. And Mother of course. She was asking about you the other day.’

‘Asking what?’

‘How you were.’

I shrugged. ‘I’m fine, if she’s really interested.’

‘I had supper with her and the Cartwrights a few weeks ago.’ She squeezed my arm gently. ‘I’m sorry – I shouldn’t have brought them up.’

‘You still see them?’

‘From time to time. Mr Cartwright’s helping me prepare for my first public speech.’

‘When will that be?’

‘Before the next Committee.’

‘Oh yes.’ I looked down at her. ‘Freddie told me you went to the last one to thwart him.’

‘I’m surprised he noticed me over all the people agreeing with him.’

I couldn’t help smiling. ‘Why are you fighting him so hard? He’s not even elected to Legco yet – he doesn’t have any real influence.’

‘Of course he does.’ We reached the car and I tossed the robes through the open window. She leaned against the hood. ‘He’s a public figure. What he says matters. When he talks about Africans needing patriarchal benefits and being intellectually inferior to us, people believe him. And then they treat the Africans a certain way at work, or on the street. Their lives are affected every day by what white people like Freddie say about them. And some people say worse, that they’re all thieves, or they’ll attack white women if you give them a chance.’ She looked down at her feet. ‘Have you ever noticed how scared of them some people are?’

‘Maybe you’re too fearless,’ I said. ‘How’s Abdullah?’

Her face flushed. ‘We’re happy.’

‘Are you?’

‘Yes.’

‘Where is he?’

‘We don’t shop together any more. Last time a woman came into the store after us and shouted at the storekeeper for letting Kikuyu in there with white people.’

‘But Abdullah’s not even Kikuyu,’ I said.

‘They don’t see the difference. They just see a black man in funny clothes and say “savage”.’ She shook her head. ‘I almost lost my temper.’

‘Careful now. You’ll get a reputation as a firebrand.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t worry about me.’

‘Of course I do.’

‘Well I worry about you. You’re my big brother. Even if you are a dunderhead.’

I grinned. ‘I hope you’re not this foul-mouthed when you’re speaking up for the Africans.’

She laughed. I kissed her again and she climbed into the car.

‘I’ll come see you soon,’ she said. ‘And you come home. It is still your home, you know.’

‘’Bye Spanish.’

‘’Bye Dunderhead.’