I stroked her hair. ‘So the natives get bored of their wives. Why are you so upset about it now?’

‘Poor Josephine. It’s not fair. And those poor girls.’

‘That’s life, Spanish.’

‘Is it our fault? First we come and say we’re in charge, behave like us, then the missionaries come and say God is the only thing that matters, make babies for God, and all the while white husbands are swapping wives and no one’s any worse off for it.’ She pulled away from me and rubbed her eyes with a clenched fist. ‘And it’s their culture, anyway. What right do I have to say ours is better?’

‘So don’t.’

‘But the women, Theo. How can I just stand by and say nothing? This place –’

‘What about it?’

‘Sometimes it breaks my heart.’

‘You can’t save everyone, Spanish. Come on.’ I dried her eyes with my handkerchief. ‘Let’s have breakfast.’

It was Edie who told me about Sylvie’s overdose. I was in Naivasha, loading refilled paraffin bottles into the car, when she found me.

‘How did it happen?’ I asked.

‘She took almost a whole bottle of pills.’

‘I mean – how was it allowed to happen?’

‘No one knew she’d try anything like this.’

I wanted to scream. ‘Where is she now?’

‘At Nairobi hospital.’

‘When did she try?’

‘Yesterday. Noel sent a note saying Sylvie couldn’t come because she’d tried to kill herself, so I got a medical team from Gilgil and we drove over and they pumped her stomach. She kept saying sorry.’ Edie’s eyes filled up and she blinked. ‘She was saying sorry to be such a nuisance, and I was saying sorry for saving her.’

‘Why would you be sorry?’

‘She wanted to go.’ She rubbed her eyes with the heels of her palms. ‘Goddamn it, I can’t do it again, Theo.’

I drove to Nairobi at top speed. When I reached the hospital I smelled paraffin, and realised the bottles had smashed along the way.

My mother had once taken us to the Native Hospital when she’d been running an errand for Lady Joan; all I could remember was the cold and filth of the corridors, and the crowding in the wards, over two hundred beds in a very cramped space. The European hospital was small by comparison, only thirty-one beds, and the floors and linen were spotlessly clean. White doctors and nurses moved quickly through the corridors, their shoes squeaking on the linoleum.

Noel was waiting outside the room. She burst into tears when she saw me and buried her face in my chest. I let her cry for a moment, then moved her away, impatient to get to Sylvie.

‘Is she awake?’ I asked.

‘Yes. You can go in if you want.’