I took another slug of my drink. ‘Shut up.’

They laughed again. I’d barely seen my mother since I’d left Kenya. Shortly after Nico and Sylvie had moved away we’d reached a sort of understanding, and she’d mostly left me to my own devices. It was only when I’d come to Edinburgh and been away from her as an adult that I’d realised how afraid I’d been growing up, how unsettling she’d been. Now I was going back I didn’t particularly want to see her. I knew she was wrapped up in the League anyway, which Lady Joan had left in her hands.

My father was wrapped up in work too; Maud spent most of her time alone at Kiboko. I was glad to be returning for her sake, although she never sounded lonely in her letters. The thought of her made me feel suddenly impatient to be off, and I tossed back the rest of my drink and stood up.

‘Onwards and upwards,’ I said.

They stood too, raising their glasses to me, then draining them.

‘Let’s get you on that train,’ Douglas said.

Scarves and coats were collected, and we left the hotel by the door that opened straight onto the station. That, too, was quiet, with only a few families saying their goodbyes, and a porter or two standing idly around. It was so different to the station at Mombasa I almost laughed.

I signalled one of the porters, and told him where to find my trunk in the hotel, then the four of us shook hands.

‘I’m sure we’ll be reading about your exploits in the papers,’ Douglas said.

‘I’ll be reading about yours,’ I said. ‘Douglas McFarlane, the Great Reformer.’

He pulled a face. ‘I’m a faceless bureaucrat, remember.’

‘And I’m a pauper,’ Ned said. ‘George is a pencil-pusher. It’s down to you.’

‘Well – if my public demand it …’ I said.

‘Shouldn’t you board?’ Douglas asked.

My train was smoking and letting out occasional shrieks. We shook hands again and I climbed into my carriage and found my compartment. It was small, and the light was dim, but the sink was clean and it was warm. I unwound my scarf and sat down on the green leather seat.

A train guard knocked on my door. He checked my tickets and handed me a menu.

‘Will you be eating in the dining car? It closes at midnight.’

I glanced at it briefly. ‘I’ll have the sauvignon blanc. And chicken salad to start, then the crab croquettes.’

‘Very good,’ he said. ‘I’ll make up your bed while you eat.’

He left my compartment. I locked the door after him and went to the window. I manoeuvred it open enough to stick my head out at the top. The other three were still on the platform, hopping about to keep warm. Ned saw me and waved a white handkerchief.