‘You look like a rock hyrax with that mask you’ve made,’ he said, taking a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe away the smears. Sarah held her breath as he bent forward, one hand in the small of her back, drawing her close to him while he dabbed at her cheek with the other.

‘There.’ He put the handkerchief into his pocket, without letting her go.

She stood still for a second, then put her arms around his neck, and raised her mouth for his kiss. He was the only man she had ever wanted. She loved him. He had brought her here to his special place and that had to mean something. He bent his head, and his lips found hers, and then he was pulling her tight against him, and her whole body was filled with delight. He kissed her again and again – on her mouth, her forehead, her eyes, her throat – until she was breathless. She touched the short bristle at the nape of his neck, let her fingers stray along the line of his jaw, and bury themselves in the warm strawy thatch of his hair, then move downwards again to trace his cheekbones and his wide strong neck. At last, they drew apart a little, and stood looking at one another, their fingers entwined.

‘Come and sit down.’ His voice was hoarse. He led her to a seat hollowed out of the rock, and they sat close together, looking out at the land below. He took her hand, kissed each of her fingers, and she rested her head against his chest.

‘I read your poem,’ he said quietly. ‘You know, the Masefield poem you quoted in Gedi? It haunted me. I went home and looked it up. The first part of it is very pessimistic. But Langani is not going to be like those ruined cities. It’s going to live. And prosper. With vision and determination. You have that vision, Sarah. You give me courage, and faith in myself. You’re my inspiration. Like the last lines in the poem.

‘. . . let the spirit dive

Deep in self’s sea, until the deeps unlock

The depths and sunken gold of being alive,

Till, though our Many pass, a Something stands

Aloft through Time that covers all with sands.’

He put both arms around her, and rested his chin on the top of her head. ‘I’m an awful fool, Sarah. I was looking for my true soulmate, and I thought—’

‘You don’t need to say this, Piet.’ She turned to put a finger to his lips. ‘It would have been hard not to . . .’