‘So, we can arrange to meet her for lunch later in the week. I’m sure if we give Makimei a bit of cash he’d soon find a phone number for her.’

‘Why wait? We can go and see her now. Or would you rather plod off to Lake Nakuru like a tourist?’ Like the people his granddad hated so much, the ones who came to Kenya only to tick it off their bucket list. Is that what she wants?

Cars honk behind them and Joe clears his throat. ‘Please, I must drive somewhere.’ He adjusts his mirror and looks into the silent backseat.

‘Two hours is nothing, Yvonne. You know how much I want to see her.’

‘And what if we go all that way and she’s not there?’

‘Then, at least we can find out more about this charity. Come on. What would my mum do in this situation?’ It’s a cheap shot, but it’s all he’s got right now. Also, he knows the answer. He can almost feel Mum’s hand on his back pushing him in the right direction.

Yvonne throws her arms up and sighs. But he needs to hear her say it, to confirm that she feels Mum as much as he does. ‘Tell me,’ he says.

‘She’d go. She’d travel to see Purity.’

‘Exactly,’ he says, leaning back satisfied he’s doing the right thing.

Joe was right, they hit traffic and over two hours later they are only just winding their way out of the other side of Nairobi. Joe yawns so often that Kiama leans over and asks Yvonne to take over the driving.

‘There’s been an accident,’ Joe says. He steps out of the car and talks to a group of other frustrated drivers, each of them shouting over the bonnets of their stationary cars.

‘I knew something like this was going to happen,’ Yvonne moans. ‘We’re going to be stuck here for ages.’

A bright orange minivan, packed with commuters, edges out from behind them and drives up onto the pavement. The other cars beep at it and the drivers shout abuse.

‘The driving in this country is unbelievable,’ she says as Joe gets back in the car. He turns on the radio, tuning in to a news station, and shakes his head. ‘A coach has crashed. Up there, exactly where we need to go.’