‘I just don’t want him to get bored,’ Martha said. ‘I know how much he wants an heir. And he’s too clever for his own good.’ She sipped her coffee. ‘Have you met the new Governor yet?’

‘Byrne?’

‘That’s the one. Much better than Grigg. He’s trying to get Freddie into politics.’

‘Oh?’

‘I think it’ll be good for him. He’s all fired up about the government proposition to introduce income tax here, thinks it’ll drive all the capital out of the colony.’

‘I’m sure Britain wouldn’t let Kenya collapse.’

‘We’re not a priority back there. We need more autonomy.’

‘I don’t think that’s too likely either.’ I smiled.

She shrugged, looking uninterested suddenly. Keeping up with her changing moods was exhausting, and I tried to remember if she’d been like this when I met her at the Muthaiga. I took a sip of cold coffee, then checked my watch.

‘I’m afraid I should be off –’

‘So this is where I find you,’ Freddie said. He came out onto the veranda. ‘How long were you back for before you decided to make a play for my wife?’

‘I thought a month was gentlemanly enough.’

‘More than fair.’

He grinned at me and I grinned back thankfully; seeing him was just as easy as I’d thought it would be.

‘Darling.’ Martha jumped up and threw her arms around his neck. ‘I’ve been chilling some champagne in case you managed to get away.’

He laughed. ‘Not for me, thank you. It’s a little early. And you spoil me too much.’

Martha laughed too. Red spots appeared on her cheeks. ‘You deserve it. How was the meeting?’

‘Very boring.’

She led him to the sofa and they sat. Freddie lit a cigarette and offered me one. I refused. ‘You’re looking well,’ he said. ‘Survived finals then.’

‘Don’t remind me of them.’

He laughed again. ‘Never mind. They don’t seem too bad after a while, not after you’ve had to work for a living.’

‘I’m starting to believe it. I hear you’re taking on more work though. Martha says you might be getting into politics.’

‘It’s a good idea. I could be a big fish out here, and at my age I should be thinking more permanently.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Had we but world enough and time –’

‘Trust you to quote Andrew Marvell.’

‘Very good.’

Sylvie had read poetry to us sometimes, and once or twice I’d read it to her. She’d been pulling a ribbon through the grass for Samson to chase. Or maybe she’d been grooming Roderigo at the table.

‘Did you hear me?’ Freddie asked, crossing his legs.

‘Sorry, no.’

He grinned again. ‘How was Edinburgh for you in the end?’

I shrugged. ‘Took me a while to get used to the cold. And everyone rushes everywhere.’