her, and as the journey progressed, wished she could remove her dress, which seemed to have grown awfully tight since she’d last worn it for dinner at Woodhead Hall.
‘What do you expect, Cecily? Apart from the safari, you’ve hardly stirred from your room,’ she muttered, promising herself that when she returned to Mundui House, she’d take a dip in the lake every morning.
As they approached the city, Cecily glanced eagerly out of the window, but could only glimpse the buildings of central Nairobi spread out to her left, interspersed by endless shacks built haphazardly along the road.
‘Manhattan it is obviously not,’ she chuckled as Makena steered the Bugatti off the dusty main road. Stopping at a set of gates, he stuck out his head to speak to the security guard on duty. The gates were opened and they drove past pristine green lawns, planted with oak, chestnut and fever trees, which reminded Cecily of an English parkland. They pulled to a halt in front of a two-storey salmon-pink building with a smart red-tiled roof, its windows edged by clean white shutters. Palm trees and neat hedges lined the walls, and small Doric columns graced the entrance. Cecily had not seen a building in Kenya that seemed to insist more on its own civility. She stepped out of the car and was greeted at the double-fronted doors by a man who resembled a younger version of Aleeki.
‘Good afternoon, memsahib. May I enquire as to your name?’
‘I am Cecily Huntley-Morgan, sir.’
‘You are here for the wedding of Mr and Mrs Sinclair?’
‘I am,’ Cecily said as the man ran a fountain pen down a long list of names.
‘Mrs Sinclair has already signed you in. Ali!’ The man turned inside the shadowy interior and clicked his fingers. A servant appeared immediately by his side. ‘Please see Miss Huntley-Morgan to her room.’
Ali took her cases from Makena, who gave her a salute, then stepped back into the Bugatti. As she followed the man through the wooden-floored reception area and along a couple of narrow corridors, Cecily could already hear the hum of voices coming from somewhere in the building.
‘Here, memsahib. Room number ten,’ said Ali.
Cecily walked into a spartan cell, with only a narrow single bed, a chest of drawers with a washbasin atop it, and a closet which resembled an upturned coffin wedged into the corner.
‘Okay, memsahib?’
‘Perfect, thank you.’
As Ali left, shutting the door softly behind him, she shook her head in disbelief; she’d imagined that Muthaiga Club would be the Kenyan version of the Waldorf Astoria. Not that she cared – it was simply a place to lay her head for the night – but she could hardly imagine Kiki sleeping in a room like this.
Refastening her hat in the mirror, then applying some fresh lipstick, Cecily surveyed the door that would lead her out to the party. Taking a deep breath, she opened it, then with absolutely no idea of which way to turn down the corridor, decided to follow the hum of the crowd. Eventually, she found herself in a deserted dining room, the many tables set with creamy roses and garlands, the silver cutlery polished to a high shine. The tables flowed out into a veranda, beyond which stood a large crowd of guests, sipping champagne. She felt rather like she was walking through a beautiful garden filled with exotic birds of paradise. Well, that was the women at least, she thought, because they all seemed to be dressed in colourful silks and their jewels sparkled in the late afternoon sun. As for the men, they looked like a flock of penguins in their white tie and tails. She emerged at the other side of the crowd and saw Bobby and Katherine, who was wearing a simple but beautiful lace gown, which hugged her generous figure and showed off her creamy bare shoulders. Ivory roses adorned her lovely red hair and Cecily smiled, thinking she looked the picture of happiness.
‘Champagne, madam?’ asked a passing waiter.
‘Do you have water?’ Cecily wasn’t taking any chances; she wasn’t going to throw up in the bushes amongst the crème de la crème of local society.
‘Cecily, darling!’ Katherine waved at her as a flashbulb popped in front of her. ‘Just a couple more photographs and I’ll be over to introduce you to everyone.’
‘No problem!’ she shouted back, content to cast her eyes round the crowd while she waited. There was Alice, attired in a long, beaded sapphire gown that skimmed her too-slim figure. And Idina