She pursed her lips. It made her look young, and I wondered suddenly if that was why she did it. ‘I miss looking forward to life. Now half of it’s gone already, and I haven’t done anything.’ She gave a little sigh. ‘Freddie’s right – he’s trying to make his life mean something. It can’t all be cocktails and fucking.’

I heard a laugh escape me. ‘You do know he’s only out for himself, don’t you?’

‘Is he?’ She looked at me out of the corner of her eye. ‘Didn’t they teach you Classics at school? No one can have everything they want – the gods don’t let that happen.’

‘Can I ask you a question?’

‘Yes.’

‘Was I always just a play-thing to you?’

‘Theo –’

‘I know you used me – both of you – and I’m sick of it.’ An ice-like feeling had started in the base of my spine and spread upwards. I was dimly aware that I’d stepped forwards and Sylvie had stepped back, and my arms were either side of her, leaning against the car so she was pinned up against it, but I couldn’t feel the metal underneath my palms, or her breath on my face. Her eyes widened.

‘Stay away from me,’ I said. ‘I can’t promise not to hurt you otherwise.’

‘You wouldn’t do that,’ she said softly.

I turned my face away and looked out at the pale sky and the fields in the distance, at the coffee workers picking red coffee cherries from their trees. From where I stood, the leaves on the branches were tinged with blue, and rippled in the breeze. The workers were faceless as they moved slowly through the avenues, tossing the cherries into sacks on the ground. It seemed fifty years ago that I’d lain in Freddie’s Muthaiga bungalow and pictured the three of us together.

‘People change,’ I said.

The following Sunday my mother insisted on a family lunch at Kiboko.

‘Your father would want us to be together,’ she said.

Maud spent most of the morning with swollen eyes. Abdullah didn’t say anything, but before lunch I saw him bring her a small brown paper parcel. She waited until he’d left the room to unwrap it, then sat with her head bent forwards, staring down at whatever was in her lap.

I went to sit next to her. ‘What is it?’

‘Father’s pocket watch. The one the office in Edinburgh got him when we left.’ She picked it up and opened the case, then stroked her thumb across the glass. ‘Do you remember it broke soon after we got to Dar? Abdullah’s mended it.’

‘I didn’t realise he knew how to do that.’

She looked up at me. ‘Do you want it? Father would have given it to you, wouldn’t he?’

‘No.’ I closed her fingers over the watch. ‘You keep it.’