I take one last, lingering look across the lake, squinting until the scene begins to blur. I wish I could keep this moment as something other than just a memory, and then I would be able to return to it during times of need. I want to remember how it felt to be here, to be so close to something resembling contentment.

‘Come on, Gee-nie, come on,’ sings Tui, and this time when she presses her hand into mine, I squeeze her fingers back just as tight.

20

The closer we get to Milford Sound, the more enthralled I feel.

There is such a lot to know about this country, and I marvel at Griff’s humorous commentary as he entertains the coach with interesting facts and anecdotes, telling his captive audience more about Fiordland National Park and sprinkling in general titbits about New Zealand. No wonder Kiwis are so proud of their homeland – I would be, too. But then, of course, I suppose that my own heritage is linked to this place. Is that why I feel so at peace here? Or would the same have been true if I had embarked on a backpacking adventure, as Hayley and I originally planned years ago, without knowing anything about my roots?

For so many years, I have been content to fill my mind with only the stuff that I considered to be important, none of which ever reached as far as New Zealand. In truth, much of it did not reach past the gates of Mill House Stables. How sheltered I have been, and for so long, too. How could I have been so fulfilled by such a minuscule existence? It feels utterly baffling to me now that I’m here, learning and uncovering so much with every passing hour, and my previous life is starting to feel increasingly small.

We have only stopped twice more since breakfast – once to stroll past the jaw-dangling splendour of the Mirror Lakes, and again while we waited in line to drive through the Homer Tunnel – and Kit and I agree that it’s a relief to get the circulation going again via a short walk from the coach to the waiting ferry.

The vast white vessel has an upper and lower deck, but everyone – including Kit, Tui and me – heads immediately up the metal steps, keen to be in the best spot for both scenery and sunshine. It’s invigorating to be out in the clean air, and as the engines rumble into life and the boat moves slowly out into the water, I grip the railings with cheerful anticipation.

The only thing I know about Milford Sound is that Rudyard Kipling once referred to it as the ‘eighth wonder of the world’ – a fact that David repeated to me multiple times before I flew out here. As the boat chugs on, however, I soon understand why Mr Kipling was so overawed by what he saw.