The rocket provided scant information on the planet, which was a world of jungles and deserts, populated by different tribes. Tancredi and his companions found themselves in a garden of cacti with pretty pink and purple blooms. A stream of crystal water flowed through its centre, prehistoric stones decorated the landscape.

They set off into the garden in search of Soloman and soon came to a children’s play area featuring a battered tea-cup ride. Beyond was the mouth of a cave with a boulder, which served as its door, rolled to one side. A window with iron bars was set into the rock face, giving a view of its interior. A group of impoverished children wearing the yellow and brown shuka of desert tribespeople were kicking around. They were supervised by some sad-looking women, presumably their mothers. Oblivious to the poverty of the scene, Tamany and Kasbek raced over to join them.

Only one of the children would play with Tamany, a pretty girl with sparkling brown eyes set in a dark-skinned face who introduced herself as Solange. Tancredi chuckled – everywhere he travelled, there was always one to stand out from the crowd. Differentiation should be taught at school; it was superior by far to science, maths or history.

Shortly Soloman came bounding through the garden towards them. He was still in his party clothes of leopard-skin trousers and an expensive silk shirt.

He waved a muscular arm in the air by way of greeting.

‘I’m so happy you came,’ he boomed. ‘Welcome to Ylang Ylang! Welcome to our paradise! Welcome to the after party!’

His face lit up as he saw Cocomo, and he smiled a smile of dazzling whiteness.

‘This is the General’s garden. These are his people. The party’s at his palace. Please, come with me.’

By now Tamany was engaged in a staring competition with Solange. The game had occupied him and Kasbek for hours during their travels, gazing into each other’s eyes to see who would blink first. Tamany always won, following which Kasbek would fall into a deep sleep. Tancredi couldn’t disturb the combat now it had begun, so he promised to return soon.

Tancredi and Cocomo followed Soloman along a garden path. Tancredi felt strangely bold. Love had made him confident, but he also knew he needed to show courage in the face of what was about to happen. Cocomo wasn’t afraid of the coming Armageddon. As he walked in the sunshine he felt her equal. He would play his part when the time came.

Soloman strode along humming a merry tune, emitting an occasional chuckle. The extraordinary beauty of the planet seemed to Tancredi to be at odds with the poverty of the people they passed. He interrupted his host’s reverie to enquire about this surprising contradiction.

‘You have a sharp eye,’ Soloman roared, slapping him on the back as if they were old friends, ‘but if we weren’t destitute, we wouldn’t get funding.’