It’s suddenly too much, too many questions, too many people to account for. Yvonne comes out of the bathroom with her nose turned up. She flicks water from her hands then wipes them on her jeans. She’s going to lose it with him. ‘Purity, are you coming back tonight? I know it’s late, but I’d love to see you.’

‘Yes,’ she squeals, ‘yes, you will stay at the house and we will see each other tomorrow. Sarah will make you a bed. Bring her for me.’

‘Sarah?’ He’s sure neither of the girls is called that.

Delia runs off to another part of the house.

Purity switches to a local dialect with someone on her side of the line, her voice sounds serious and direct.

‘Kiama?’ Yvonne steps forwards but he shakes his head and pretends to still be listening to Purity talk, but all he hears is a gabble of words and phrases that mean little to him other than to confirm he won’t be seeing her tonight. A small Kenyan woman steps forwards and gestures for Kiama to give her the phone.

Kiama plasters a smile on and faces Yvonne. ‘So,’ he says, ‘looks like we’re staying here tonight.’

‘We can’t stay here,’ Yvonne whispers.

‘But we can’t drive back either. Look at the state of Joe.’

Upon hearing his name Joe steps into the house, rubs his head and yawns.

‘We can get a cab back to Nairobi.’

The girls, who have been listening in, now laugh. ‘We only know one driver here but he’s on an airport run tonight. And when we arrived, we were strictly advised to avoid using unknown local drivers,’ the Irish one says.

‘Okay, but we can’t stay in this house,’ Yvonne says. ‘Not all three of us. Is there a hotel nearby?’

The other girl makes a chopping motion at her neck, ‘Yeah, but I definitely wouldn’t call it a hotel. It’s more a place for locals.’

‘Or for when you have a really heavy night and Purity locks you out. It’s fine for your driver though.’

It feels wrong, but Joe actually smiles when Yvonne suggests he stay elsewhere. ‘A hotel? What a blessing. I will sleep so peacefully,’ he says while bringing in their bags and taking his leave.

‘When Purity worked for your parents did she make you eat rice and beans every night too?’ the prettier of the two girls, Delia, asks as they sit down to bowls of rice and lentil curry.

‘Did Purity really cook this?’ It’s nothing like the food she would have made at his grandparents’.

‘Yah,’ the girl says. ‘Why, what did she used to make you?’

‘Pies, pasta, curries. English food.’

Delia drops her fork on the table, ‘You’re telling me she can make normal food?’