‘It’s just … well, how many people can we really help there?’ she asked, not wanting to sound too negative. Along with his weak bladder, Wilkes was prone to tears, particularly now, during hay-fever season. He perspired a lot too. Basically, he was a leaker. ‘Don’t you think we’re better off doing good at home? We’re in a soup kitchen in the middle of the day, after all, discussing leper colonies in Indonesia.’

‘No, we need to wake people up. To make them see how much suffering there is in the world and how deeply it affects me. Not everyone’s like you and me, you know. Take your family, for example. Do you know, last week, I saw Nelson eating a tomato?’

‘What’s wrong with tomatoes?’ asked Elizabeth, baffled.

‘It was an Italian tomato, Elizabeth, and Italy exploits migrant workers in order to fill supermarket shelves around Europe. They barely pay them and then kick them out at the end of the season. It’s practically slave labour.’

‘You ate a pizza last week,’ said Elizabeth. ‘We were in Pizza Express. And pizzas have tomato bases.’

‘Yes, but I posted a picture of it online and pointed out the troubling politics and twenty-four people thanked me for drawing attention to the problem. And then there’s Achilles. Every time I see him he’s carrying a disposable cup from Starbucks in his hand. Can’t he buy a reusable one?’

‘Oh, that’s just Achilles,’ she said. ‘He’s an idiot.’

‘But it’s not just your family. It’s your friends too. And your family’s friends. And your friends’ families.’

‘Yes, I get the point. Don’t go on.’

‘You’re always saying that you really want to make a difference in the world – well, this is how to do it.’

‘What I mean is that I want to be an influencer.’

‘But this is how you influence people. By gaining as many followers as possible and making them believe in you, even if you have no knowledge or training in your particular subject. That’s how Jesus did it, after all. And look at Christianity. It’s huge.’

‘Jesus wasn’t on social media,’ countered Elizabeth.

‘Only because it wasn’t around then. But can you imagine if he’d tweeted from the cross?’

‘Dying,’ said Elizabeth, looking into the distance as she considered this. ‘Nails in my hands and feet. Back in three days. In the meantime, #BeKind.’

‘Exactly. Or if he’d made a TikTok and posted it as he rose from the dead? What about an Instagram video of him turning water into wine? Content like that would have broken the Internet. Hashtag Messiah!’

She thought about it, wondering how she could transfer his compassion to something less disgusting. Sick puppies, for example. Everyone loved a sick puppy.

‘How many lepers are on this island anyway?’ she asked eventually.

‘Around twenty,’ he said.

‘You don’t think it’s a bit white saviour?’

‘No!’ he cried, appalled. ‘We’d just be transporting knowledge, support and medical supplies to a people who have suffered for too long in silence.’