‘I make?’ she asks. ‘We try the generator.’

In the kitchen, I can see the man trying to get the generator working. The woman is still preparing food, doing what she can with little resources.

‘We’ll have anything,’ I say. ‘You bring and we’ll eat. Whatever’s possible.’

‘Thank you, thank you,’ Linh beams.

‘No, no,’ Justin says, feeling like an arsehole, I hope. ‘Thank you.’

The gentle ripple of the blankets suggests it’s not too windy outside, so the storm could well be passing. It occurs to me that Jack would have been a wreck on the flight from Bangkok to Da Nang, had he known we were landing in such extreme conditions. I didn’t think about it at the time, presuming the bumpy ride down was due to the plane being a small low-budget aircraft. Despite that, I wish he was here, beside me in the candlelight. He’d be best mates with Linh and her family by now, giving the little Dutch kid a shoulder ride.

‘Thinking about Jack?’ Justin asks.

‘Always.’

I really don’t want him to say anything bitchy about Sabrina. It’s not the right moment.

‘Everything feels a bit fuzzy,’ I admit. ‘Like I’m caught between reality and a dream. I know I’m here, in Vietnam, but I’m not sure how I got here … metaphorically, like.’

‘I know what you mean.’

‘That’s good. I’m not usually such an – erm – philosopher.’

‘Do you feel like the decision to be here, although you ultimately made it, was out of your hands?’

I take in these words, think. ‘Yeah, I do.’

What I mean is ‘I hope so’.

Linh places a plate of Vietnamese spring rolls between us, a colourful-looking noodle salad and some chicken rice, plus a dish of what looks like fat, fried potatoes. One bite tells me it’s not potato; it tastes cold, crumbly and rather odd. Good-odd. I try a spring roll and it’s so fresh, so delicious, I’m in awe of how this was thrown together without any electricity. We tuck in.

‘Sorry, sorry,’ Linh says, gesturing at the food.

‘Oh no, this is amazing,’ I tell her as I take another potato-that’s-not-a-potato. ‘Even this!’

We enjoy a couple more beers and the Dutch family join us around our table. It’s inevitable but I tell Linh that I’m from the birthplace of The Beatles, pointing to the quote on the wall. I’m not sure she understands what I mean, although she smiles kindly. Like a total moron, I point to the quote again and speak slower. Again, she smiles and now puts her hands to her heart, saying yes.

Justin stands and reaches for the guitar, asking, ‘May I?’