Mario felt as if his chest would explode with the love he felt for the tiny woman before him. Standing up, he left the room, unable to trust himself not to cry. Maeve watched him go, feeling much more settled inside herself at their open admission of his sexuality.

In his room, Mario opened his briefcase and took out a telephone book. He dialled a number on his mobile and when it answered, he said, ‘Hello, Pierre? Could you do me a favour, mate? I need to know a destination address, please, on an airline. I think the holiday would have been booked with a credit card. Find out for me, would you?’

As he gave out Donna’s details he hoped against hope that his hunch was wrong, but somehow he didn’t think it was.

Donna stood with her case outside Colombo airport. The heat was stifling, heavy and damp. She pulled out the neck of her suit and blew down on to her breasts. The blouse she was wearing was already sticking to her with perspiration. A porter came towards her and loaded her case on to a small trolley.

‘Where is your tour bus, Madam?’ He smiled at her with crooked brown teeth.

Donna explained. ‘I have no tour bus. I need a taxi to Hikkadoa. To the Bay View Hotel. Where can I get a taxi?’

The man smiled again, his dark green boiler suit giving out a faint odour of old sweat and grease as he leant towards her.

‘I know very good taxi, Madam. I will take you to him personally.’

Donna followed the little man out into the brilliant sunshine. Everywhere she looked flowers abounded, deep reds and mauves. Jasmine filled the air with its scent, and the sky was a deep clear blue. Even in her agitated state she couldn’t help but appreciate the beauty around her.

The porter took her to a line of taxis and started talking to a driver. After a while he spoke to Donna.

‘This is my very good friend Raj, and he will take you to your hotel.’ He loaded her case into the boot of a very old dilapidated Nissan and Donna slipped him a hundred-rupee note. Two minutes later they were on their way to Hikkadoa.

After half an hour they entered the city of Colombo itself. Donna watched the people in amazement. The women’s saris were all the colours of the rainbow, people were selling their wares from the roadside, children ran about dangerously amongst the traffic. The cars were jampacked together, along with bicycles, tour coaches and buses.

The dust was everywhere, and street vendors stood selling their wares without a thought for the dirt covering everything from samosas to painted gourds.