‘Go home,’ I called. ‘It’s freezing.’

They turned to go.

‘Don’t forget to invite us when you’ve settled in,’ George called over his shoulder.

I watched them make their way back into the hotel. I could imagine the rest of their evening: another drink at the bar, then a tram back to the close, running up the steps to stay dry. Then inside, where our landlady would have turned the beds down and left supper in the oven. Soon they would start work, and take up golf, and go to the pub on Friday nights to discuss politics.

Whereas I would be rattling through the countryside all night. Tomorrow I would wake up in London, and tomorrow evening I’d be walking up the gangplank onto the boat bound for Mombasa. If I was going back to join the railway company, I was also going back to sunshine, the Muthaiga, parties, sundowners, savannahs teeming with animals, totos shouting ‘Jambo, Bwana’ as they went about their business, music and laughter and Maud and Freddie. Maybe even Sylvie.

The rain had changed from fat, heavy drops to a slanting drizzle. My compartment was in an open-air section of the station, and I suddenly realised that my face and hands were soaking wet. I withdrew, and slammed the window shut, just as the train let out its loudest shriek yet and started forwards with a jerk.

Chapter Thirteen

When I arrived in Kenya, instead of going straight to Kiboko as I would have preferred, my father arranged a room for me at the Nairobi Club, and scheduled several meetings with railway officials and engineers to ‘ease into it’, as he put it. It only took a few lunches to realise working at the company was going to be even duller than I’d thought.

It was almost a month before I was able to escape to Naivasha, catching Maud as she was in the middle of ordering meals for the next week. She ran down the veranda steps and threw her arms around my neck. Scotty followed her, dancing and barking around our ankles.

‘I’ve missed you,’ she said.

‘I missed you too, Spanish.’

She suited the name even more now after years of sun. Her skin had turned nut-coloured, and at twenty years old she was tall, much taller than our mother, and her smile was wider. The totos called her Mama Mpole; ‘gentle mother’.

‘How was the boat? How’s work? Is Father well?’

I held up my hands, laughing. ‘Give me a minute.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘I thought university helped you think, not slowed you down.’

‘Why don’t we get out on the lake, have some time to ourselves? You can ask me any questions you like then.’

‘Alright. Let me just shut Scotty inside.’

‘We should go round to Mahalbeth,’ I said, as we stepped into the rowing boat. ‘How much do you see of Freddie, now he’s so close?’