Such is the anticipation of the crowd that there is a collective intake of keyed-up breath as the first cluster of penguins comes into view, each one padding with quiet stoicism from one flat foot to another with their pointed little flippers held out behind them. As they pass by right below us, Tui gasps out loud with awe, and Kit and I exchange a smile over her head.

Some of the birds hurry straight under the protective cover of the wooden walkway, while others stand in groups, squawking away as if they’re having a good old gossip about their day out fishing. It is not just Tui who is gazing down at them adoringly now, all three of us are, and when the first batch have all scuttled into their nests, another group comes ashore, and then another, and before long there are hundreds of penguins just distinguishable in the dusk. The racket they are making, as well as the smell coming off them, is quite something, and Tui pointedly holds her nose.

‘They’re so noisy,’ I whisper to Kit, and he chuckles.

‘I might start calling Tui a penguin from now on,’ he replies, prompting an indignant and clearly audible, ‘Hey!’ from the girl in question.

‘Shhh,’ hisses a woman sitting behind us, and Kit rolls amused eyes to the sky.

Looking down, I notice that Tui is holding Kit’s hand as well as mine, but the next moment she almost pulls the two of us over as she shoots up from her seat, leaning right over me so she can see the newest arrival of penguins more easily.

‘Sit down!’ demands the angry woman, and I tap Tui gently on the leg.

‘Jeez!’ she complains, her shrill voice echoing around the silent grandstand. At first I think Kit is going to tell her off, but instead he shifts round in his seat.

‘Chill out, would ya?’ he says to the woman, his voice low. Then, reaching across me, he grabs the waistband of Tui’s leggings.