Work was quiet. The secretaries’ footsteps were muffled in the corridors and the clack of their typewriters seemed to come from far away. I closed the blinds in my office and spent the week preparing a report. The weather was sultry, and my headache wouldn’t leave me. I ate alone in the evenings, too tired to make conversation. Instead I planned what I’d say to Sylvie over the weekend. I’d made her ill, and now I had to make her better.

Friday morning dragged itself out slowly. I finished the report and handed it to the secretaries to copy and file. MacDonald was in my father’s old office, smoking, and dictating to his assistant. He saw me hovering outside and waved me in.

I stuck my head around the door.

‘You want to leave early?’ he asked.

‘If that’s alright.’

‘Go.’ He stubbed out his cigarette. ‘Get some sleep. We’re gonnae be busy soon enough.’

I picked up some things from my rooms, and the car from outside The Nairobi. After the heat of the last few days, it looked like rain again, and I spent a few moments attaching the hood, before getting behind the wheel and taking a breath. My hands were shaking for some reason, and my vision was blurry around the edges. I thought about calling off my trip for a second time, staying in bed, but I knew I couldn’t. I started the engine and pressed my foot down on the pedal.

The drive was uneventful enough, although the further I got from Nairobi, the tighter my chest started to feel. I hadn’t planned on what I’d do with Sylvie.

I’d thought about spending the afternoon with her, then coming back to Kiboko for supper, but as I approached Naivasha I found myself turning off. More than anything, I realised, I wanted to see Maud, have her lay a cool hand on my forehead and bustle around me getting tea and broth and a compress. I felt a wave of affection for her and a pang of jealousy that Solomon would grow up with her as his mother.

The police cars were parked at the top of the drive, almost hidden by the trees. I drove past them, my heartbeat doubling, then pulled up outside the house and switched off my engine. Phillips was on the veranda. He came towards me and I felt my headache worsen, until I thought I was going to be sick. Perhaps a new witness had come forward, or they’d found fresh evidence on the grounds. Phillips looked serious. He stopped a few paces from the car. For a moment, we looked at each other through the windshield, then I climbed out and tried to smile.

‘Is everything alright? No trouble in the compound?’

He looked surprised. ‘No.’ He was playing with his hat. ‘I assumed you’d been told; I’m sorry.’

‘Told what?’