I lingered there—why?—about to pass through to my cabin. The shadows, the warm smells of the timber, the faint movements of the Moonbird.

When I turned and saw the doctor come out of his room and stand behind me, just outside his doorway, looking at me, I realised what I had been waiting for. His eyes, bright with mischief, entreated my complicity.

My mouth was opening to demur, my breath suspended to wish him a second goodnight—and we were kissing.

I had not seen it coming: I had not known I was in his arms until I felt my whole body press towards his, the shock so great that I could not think of anything at all. I kissed him back, yes, I am sure of that. For how long? I cannot say. But then there was panic rising inside me: we were standing within a couple of feet of my father’s bed. He must not wake to this. I gave a little shudder, and made to push the doctor away, but he clung harder. I turned my head; stepped away, felt his hands drop.

Just as I did so my father gave a snort, and woke.

‘Girl?’

‘Here, Papa.’

‘What are you doing there?’ He was climbing upright, pushing his blanket back.

‘Just…just checking on you.’ The doctor had made no attempt to retreat into his quarters. He remained standing exactly where we had embraced. His eyes were wide and darting, eyebrows raised, and mouth curled into the tiniest smile. Could this be amusing to him?

My father had found the edge of his bed and used it to drag himself to his feet. He stood up in front of me, a mere two feet aside of the doctor, who stood so perfectly still that even his breathing appeared to have stopped. My breath, too, had steadied.

Father came forward, tiny shuffling steps that measured the floor, hands outstretched.

‘Eliza?’

‘Yes, Father,’ I said softly. Our ritual, so many thousand times.

His hands reached forward; the tips of his fingers searched the air. His right hand swept within inches of the doctor’s jaw, but the doctor did not flinch or make a sound. Then one of my father’s fingers made contact with my cheek, and the fingers of his other hand moved in unison to find the other cheek and there he rested them for just an instant. So lightly. I saw the confusion in his face as a faint light fell on his whiskers. The overworked senses adjusting to a suspicion about the space around him.

‘Here I am, Papa.’