I’d wanted to fish that day, but she’d begged me not to. Then when I’d gone ahead and caught a fish after all, I’d stared at it jerking violently across the bottom of the boat, eyes wide open as it suffocated, and hadn’t been able to go through with the kill. I’d picked it up instead and dropped it back into the water. The three of us had watched it sink for a moment, holding our breath, then a shiver seemed to run through the silver body, and it had darted away. Maud had linked her fingers through mine and squeezed my hand.

I screwed my eyes shut even further. For a moment, I could almost believe that when I opened them she’d be with me again, body half-twisted in her seat, looking out at the water. The thought made my chest ache with happiness, and grief, knowing even as I imagined her there, she was really a mile or so away, deep in the ground.

I opened my eyes. The edges of the clouds had turned a burnt pink. My coldness had left me. My mother was right, I couldn’t let her memory be ruined.

The sun set quickly as I started rowing back to shore, dropping out of sight behind the mountains, and the lake turned cold and black. It was strangely quiet on the water, except for the splash of the oars. After a while I questioned if I was going in the right direction. I stopped and wiped my forehead. Thoughts of hippos swimming unseen beneath me made my hairline prickle with sweat, and I wondered if I should risk a shout, to see how close I was to land. Then I saw a yellow glow to the right of where I’d been steering and headed for that. For a long time it didn’t seem to be getting any closer, then suddenly I could make out the shape of Kiboko up the slope of the lawn. My mother was waiting for me on the jetty. She’d brought a lantern and laid it at her feet, so her face was in darkness as I looked up from the boat. I could see her arms clearly, though, and the goosebumps that dotted her skin, and realised she must have waited for me for nearly an hour.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. She was the first to break the silence.

‘Supper’s ready,’ she said.

The lights were on at The Farm, although it was dawn already. Sylvie opened the door to my knock. She was in her green dress, the one she’d worn for lunch with me and Lucy all those years ago, and her hair was pinned, her lips and her cheeks rosy pink.

‘I knew you’d come,’ she said.