‘Lovely. It sounds so welcoming that I’m wondering why we’re here.’ Camilla was the first to step out of the car. The air was heavy with humidity, and carried the scent of decaying leaves from the jungle in which the ruins lay hidden. ‘God, it’s spooky. Even in the middle of the day.’

A wave of heat and silence enveloped them, broken only by the ticking of hot metal as the car engine cooled, and by the scream and chatter of monkeys in the branches overhead. The old city loomed out of the encroaching forest, sinister, mottled with mystery and rampant vegetation. Through the tangled undergrowth they saw the flash of sunbirds hovering over the bushes that had fastened themselves to the deserted buildings. It seemed like an invasion to enter this other world, and they walked slowly and in silence until they came to the area surrounding the former palace. The bare arms of the baobabs loomed over the forgotten dwellings, and the roots of lesser trees seemed to have grasped the ancient walls in a stranglehold, squeezing the last vestiges of life out of the crumbling stones.

The buildings peered through the greenery like silent watchers, their coral walls and carved tracery looking out as a woman in purdah might watch the world from behind her veil, revealing only tantalising glimpses of her hidden presence. Three pillar tombs stood sentinel, close to the remains of the Great Mosque and the Sultan’s Palace whose windows gaped open, sightless and unresisting.

‘Man, what a place!’ Piet gave a long whistle, staring through overgrown avenues that disappeared into a wall of impenetrable foliage. ‘I feel like an interloper. Like we have no right to disturb its dreaming.’

‘My goodness, Piet!’ Camilla looked up into his face, smiling. ‘I didn’t know you had the soul of a romantic. You’re as bad as Sarah with her mystical pronouncements.’

‘You could discover all kinds of things about me, Camilla, if you wanted to. If you took the time.’

‘It’s too hot to go any further. Let’s open the picnic box and have a cold drink, and something to eat.’ Sarah’s voice sounded strained, even to her own ears.

They sat down in the grassy shade of the Sultan’s Palace. There was cold chicken and salad, fresh bread rolls, neat twists of paper filled with salt and pepper, and ice-cold beer from the cool box, with lemonade to make shandy.

‘Beer never tasted so good.’ Hannah leaned against the old stones, eyes closed, and took a long draught from her glass. ‘I hope the Sultan isn’t watching too closely. He wouldn’t be pleased to see women with their heads uncovered, legs and arms on display, and drinking alcohol in his rooms. Can’t you feel him stirring in his grave?’