They had bowls of rice and barbecued satay with a wonderful spicy peanut sauce, eggs fried in dough, noodles and pickled shredded vegetables. Between each course, they thirstily devoured large chunks of watermelon, skewered on chopsticks, to cleanse the palate. They tried sticks of marinated pork, others of beef, stir-fried with sesame seeds and soy, chunks of pineapple coated in seed and seared over red-hot coals, soup, and almond paste dessert.

“Stop, stop! I can’t eat any more,” Margaret said finally, laughing. “Take me away from here. I’ll burst.” It was impossible to look without wanting to taste.

Li grinned. “Your eyes are bigger than your stomach.”

“My stomach’ll be too big to squeeze into any of my clothes if I’m not careful.”

She was holding his upper arm, quite naturally, and without thinking. And as she turned she felt her breasts brush his forearm, a tiny, tingling, thrilling sensation that stirred the seeds of desire somewhere deep inside her. She knew he’d been aware of it, because she felt him tensing. She released his arm and they moved a little apart, self-conscious and awkward, and started walking slowly. She did a quick mental calculation. Li had spent around fifty yuan, just over six dollars, for everything they had eaten. And with a pang of conscience, she remembered how poorly paid the Chinese were compared to affluent Westerners. Fifty yuan was probably a lot of money to him. She determined that the next time, she would treat him. They sauntered idly through the crowds in the direction of the Forbidden City. She took his arm again, and glanced up at him. Why had she ever thought he was ugly? “How come you never married?” she said.

His step did not falter, and he kept his eyes straight ahead. “In China it is policy to encourage people not to marry young.”

She looked at him sceptically. “And that’s why you never married?”

He reddened. “Not really. I guess I just never met anyone I wanted to marry.”

“Cops,” she said. “The same the world over. It’s not a job, is it? It’s a way of life.”