Shortly after our second Christmas in Kenya Nicolas sent a toto to Kiboko with a note.

Rupert disappeared for a few weeks, he wrote. I thought we’d got rid of him for good, but he turned up again yesterday like a bad penny. He must have had a lucky streak while away, because he claims that I promised to take him on safari and insists we go through with it early February, no matter the cost. Sylvie is joining us for the first weekend – how about you? Do you think your parents could spare you?

I couldn’t help feeling irritated that Sylvie had agreed so easily to Rupert’s plans when he’d clearly abandoned her to go enjoy himself somewhere else. At least if I went too, I could keep an eye on them.

I went inside to find my mother and show her the note. She read it quickly, then folded it up and handed it back. ‘Of course you can go,’ she said, surprising me. ‘Just remember our talk.’

‘I do.’

‘Good.’ She left the room. I waited, half-expecting her to come back in and tell me she’d changed her mind, but after a few moments I heard her ordering a bath, then closing her bedroom door. I felt a small glow of triumph.

The toto was waiting on the veranda for my answer. ‘Tell him I’ll go,’ I said.

Chapter Ten

My father came home the night before the safari, his car jolting and starting down the drive. My mother was reading in front of the fire; from where we were doing our schoolwork at the dining table I heard her little noise of surprise and stood to look out the window until Miss Graham, at the table with us, tapped my exercise book and I sank down again.

Abdullah appeared from the kitchen with a lamp and passed through the dining room silently; I saw him open the screen door and step out onto the veranda, and heard a low murmur, then my father’s voice, much louder, thanking him for the light.

‘Come and say hello to your father,’ my mother called.

We put down our pencils and went into the sitting room. My father was coming up the veranda steps, rubbing his hands against the fog in the air.

‘Father,’ Maud said. She went forwards to kiss him, and he beamed down at her. He clapped me on the back when he came into the sitting room, Abdullah following with the lantern, then greeted my mother, who stayed seated.

‘I thought I’d have supper with my wife, for once,’ he said, sitting down next to her on the sofa, his voice booming and jolly. We sat on the sofa opposite, trying not to be too conspicuous so as to not get sent back to our schoolwork.

‘You’re just in time,’ my mother said.

‘What are we having?’

‘Cold partridge, red cabbage and mashed potatoes.’