‘So what do you do with your time when you’re not working?’ Sarah felt sorry for him. It was difficult enough being a stranger, an orphan with no family to support you within the tribal hierarchy. But to be ostracised by your fellow workers as well must be especially hard, particularly if their rejection had grown out of jealousy.

‘I have books, Madam. The father at the mission gave them to me. He told me, “Simon, read and read all the time. It will make your brain good.” So I read, and I prepare to make my English better, and my brain. You think it is good?’

‘I think your English is extremely good, Simon. Which father gave you the books? Was it the priest who wrote your references?’

‘No, Madam. He was an old priest. A mzee who gave me lessons when I did not know anything. Always I read what he gave me.’

She was moved by the image he had conjured up of the small boy, abandoned at the mission, ignorant and lonely and probably frightened out of his wits, and the kindly priest who had given him the precious gift of a new world, opening up for him the written word. She could picture him vividly, sitting there, struggling with the strange symbols, and then one day being able to read.

‘Simon, wait here a moment.’ She had a sudden inspiration.

She ran back to her room and rummaged through her collection of books. She had an anthology of English literature that she had won as a prize in her fourth year at school, and she still carried it with her everywhere. It had excerpts from works of prose and poetry, and there were fine woodcut illustrations and engravings. In the front was a dedication, stating that she had won first prize in English. She thought Simon would like that, and would see that she had given him a book that meant something to her. Below the prize label, she wrote an inscription:

To Simon, I hope this gives you great pleasure, and helps to increase your knowledge. With best wishes, Sarah Mackay.

She also rifled through her portfolio until she came to a photograph of him that she had taken the first day they had ridden out to the lodge, and she inscribed the back of the picture too. There was a Christmas carrier bag on her chest of drawers and she slipped the two gifts into it.

‘I hope you will like this book, Simon,’ she told him. ‘I have treasured it since the day I received it, and there is good writing in it. The best. It will bring you many profitable hours.’