Below me, white foam hissed upwards as we cut through the turquoise water and small dhows carrying spices and salt slipped out of the way and off to Zanzibar, birds wheeling and screeching above them. An early evening breeze had started up, and was gently bending the heads of the palm trees. I checked my watch. It was past six o’clock, and the sun was touching the red roofs of the old town; the whole skyline looked on fire.

I let myself grieve the fact that I hadn’t persuaded Maud to leave earlier then pulled myself back from the edge. I couldn’t think about that night too much, couldn’t go over it and over it in my mind, imagining her last moments, wondering what she was thinking. Was she afraid? Did she know it was coming? I didn’t believe it was bandits, didn’t believe Bulawayo had anything to do with it, even if he had disappeared, and no matter what Phillips said. What would be the point? If I’d found the letter I might have been able to prove something, catch the killer, even, but someone had got rid of it. I had to let it go.

I could get used to the cold and the rain again, and there would be plenty of need for engineers in Edinburgh. It would be safer. It would be difficult too but, then, it would be difficult anywhere.

I’d burned her chair the morning I’d left. I wondered what my mother had thought when she found the charred remains, what she was doing now, if she understood the note I left her, especially the last line: I’m not sorry we came out here, but it’s not home any more. For some reason I was sure she would.

I left the railing and turned towards my cabin. I didn’t need to watch it disappear. Maybe it was never home. Maybe we weren’t supposed to conquer Africa. Actions had consequences, after all.

I smiled to myself as I opened the cabin door. The nurse was in the chair I’d brought on board specially, the one that matched the cot. She was feeding Solomon, who was looking up at her with absolute determination in his eyes, milk fog obscuring everything else. He was so unashamedly greedy it was a pleasure to watch.

I wondered if he’d remember her, her warmth, her smell, the feeling of safety she must have given him. Maybe one day I’d write down what happened to them, so Solly could know his mother.

The nurse offered up the baby.

‘He’s finished,’ she said. ‘Do you want him?’

I took the little body in both hands, cradling him against my shoulder. I’d have to learn to do this naturally. I was responsible for a whole other person now.