He hesitated, then said, ‘Thanks, man,’ and took a cigarette. The other man, older and with a seamed, lived-in face, ducked his head as he took one with gnarled fingers.

I took out my lighter and we lit up. ‘This is a very nice island.’

The younger man stabbed his mattock into the ground with a sudden violence that made the muscles writhe in his brawny arm. ‘Some think so.’

‘But not you?’

‘Would you like it if you were me, mister?’ he asked.

I looked around at the arid field and shook my head. ‘Probably not.’

He blew out a plume of smoke. ‘You going to El Cerco? The Salton place?’

‘That’s right.’

‘If you see Mrs Salton, you tell her McKittrick said hello.’

‘Are you McKittrick?’

He nodded. ‘Tell her I was sorry about Mr Salton.’

‘I’ll tell her,’ I said. ‘Do you know her well?’

He laughed. ‘She probably won’t remember me.’ He took the cigarette and delicately nipped away the coal before dropping the stub into his shirt pocket. ‘People forget.’ He tugged the mattock out of the dust. ‘This isn’t getting the corn planted.’

‘I’ll pass on your message,’ I said.

McKittrick made no answer but turned his back and bent to draw a furrow in the ground. I hesitated for a moment and then went back to the car.

I knew immediately what Jackson had meant about invitations when I arrived at El Cerco. I looked at the strong, meshed cyclone fence set on steel posts and at the two men at the gate. They wore what might or might not have been a uniform and, although they didn’t seem to carry guns, they looked as though they should have done. One stayed by the gate; the other came up to the car and bent to look at me.

‘My name is Kemp,’ I said. ‘Mrs Salton is expecting me.’

He straightened up, consulted a sheet of paper which he took from his pocket, and nodded. ‘You’re expected at the beach, Mr Kemp. The boat is waiting for you.’ He waved at the other man, who opened the gate.

What boat?

I found out about two hundred yards down the road the other side of the gate, where the asphalt curved into a bend giving a view over the sea. El Cerco was breathtaking. The natural coral formation was a perfect circle about three-quarters of a mile in diameter. Outside, the steady trade wind heaped up waves which crashed on to the coral, sending up spouts of foam, but inside that magic circle the water was smooth and calm.