There was a murmur of assent. I sat in the chair Freddie gestured to, in the middle of the room facing the benches, and crossed my legs. My head felt hot, and I quickly wiped my forehead with the back of my hand. Freddie smiled at me.

‘First off – can you tell us exactly how much the taxpayers of this country pay for the railway?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know exactly.’

‘But you do know that we pay more than Uganda?’

‘That sounds right.’

‘And why would that be?’

I uncrossed and re-crossed my legs. ‘The majority of the track is in Kenya,’ I said. ‘More maintenance is needed on this side. And there are more branches, more stations, more employees.’

A few members nodded their heads; most looked bored.

‘That sounds reasonable,’ Freddie said. He smiled at me again. ‘Who works out the railway estimates?’

‘Our finance director, with help from my father.’

‘What sort of person is this finance director?’

‘I beg your pardon?’

He smiled further. ‘I only ask, because each year it seems to me the estimates are significantly more than can possibly be needed … Given the visible results.’

My ears thrummed with blood. ‘You think the taxpayers are paying too much?’

‘I don’t know where their money is going,’ Freddie said flatly.

I tried to catch his eye, but he turned away to face the assembly, who were looking slightly more interested. The air in the room felt closer than before and I had to resist the urge to wipe my forehead again.

‘It is always a matter of great admiration to me,’ Freddie said, and paused. ‘Admiration’ was loaded with sarcasm, and I saw a few members grin. ‘… How he is ever able to get away with these estimates with only an occasional and gentle kick from Council.’ He threw his hands up in the air theatrically. ‘Which he can, of course, and does, in fact, almost entirely disregard.’ He turned back to point his finger at me. I recognised most of these tricks from his BUF days and the buzz in my ears increased. ‘Tell me, what will our money be spent on this year?’

‘There are plans to improve existing stations,’ I said carefully. ‘And build new ones where necessary.’

‘I see. Now, Theo, what would you say is the primary industry in Kenya?’

‘Agriculture.’

‘And do you think these hardworking farmers care about beautifying the railway?’

There was a ripple of laughter among the Council.

‘I suppose that depends,’ I said, forcing a smile, ‘on whether they’re farmers with a sophisticated aesthetic sensibility.’

Another ripple. ‘That’s it, Mr Miller,’ someone called. I kept the smile plastered to my face, trying to catch Freddie’s eye. I didn’t understand what he was trying to do, but I had to believe the goal wasn’t to humiliate me and the railway. He’d turn it around, or give me a chance to defend myself.