A minute or so later screams came echoing up the slope. The voices were distraught, shouting in frantic, high-pitched Hindusthani: Yahan! Here! Here! We’ve found him …

She quickened her pace and soon afterwards the men came into view. They were kneeling around a bare-bodied corpse that had washed up on the beach; some were weeping and some were striking their foreheads with the heels of their palms.

One of the men, bearded and turbaned, looked up and caught sight of her. His face did not look familiar but she could tell, from his widening eyes, that he had recognized her. He rose to his feet and came towards her.

‘Miss Lambert?’ he said softly.

She recognized the voice at once. Apni? she said in Bengali. Is it you? From the Ibis?

Yes, it’s me.

She saw that his face was streaked with tears. What’s happened here? she said. Who is that?

Do you remember Ah Fatt, from the Ibis?

She nodded. Yes. Of course.

It’s his father. Seth Bahram Modi.

*

According to the legends of the Fami, it was entirely by chance that Neel came into possession of Robin Chinnery’s letters.

The story goes that towards the end of his visit to the Colver farm Neel asked if he might spend a few nights in the place where Paulette had once stayed, down by the sea. This was a tin-roofed cabin, tucked inside a coconut grove: there was a charpoy inside, a rickety table and a chair or two; other than that the place was empty. Of Paulette’s occupancy there was no trace at all, and yet, in the same way that a man can sometimes feel the gaze of another person resting upon his back, Neel felt that something of hers was staring him in the face. He got down on his knees and crawled over the tiled floor; he examined the walls; he went outside and rooted around in the sandy surroundings, hoping to find some shrub or flower that she might have planted. But other than coconuts and sea-grapes, not much would grow there and he found nothing.

Through all this, Neel grew ever more certain that something of Paulette’s was hidden in plain view: what could it be and where was it? The thought nagged at his mind so persistently that he could not sleep properly. At some point in the night he pushed the pillow off the charpoy: that was when he noticed a bump in the mattress – something was hidden underneath. He lit a lamp and pulled back the mattress. Underneath lay a packet of some sort, wrapped in tarpaulin. He undid the knotted leather cord that was tied around it and gently removed the covering.

There was a sheaf of paper inside. The first sheet was yellow with age and covered with handwriting – large, flamboyantly sloped and a little faded.

Neel moved the lamp closer and began to read.

*

8 Rua Ignacio Baptista

Macau

July 6, 1839

Beloved Pugglee-shona, you cannot imagine how happy I was to receive your last, most recent letter. It provided me with the only bit of cheer I have had in a long while. It was nothing less than thrilling to learn that Zachary has been cleared of all charges and is on his way to China!