Steve paused as they reached the beach, which was deserted save for a small fishing boat pulled up on the sand.

‘Not much surf. Gentle enough for tourists, which is good. The serious surfers will have to find the best breaks.’

‘You a serious surfer?’ she asked.

‘When the mood and opportunity strike. And the water is clear. Good that this strip of beach is clean and empty. Guess they’ve put that breakwall there deliberately for privacy, even if it does look natural.’ He grinned. ‘Okay, where now?’

‘Down this way.’

They walked in silence as Grace studied the tree line along the beach. Steve stopped and bent down, picking up a small shell. He handed it to Grace. ‘Don’t see too many of these anymore. There used to be beautiful big shells by the truckload on these islands. All picked over now, to sell.’

Grace studied the shell and put it in her pocket. ‘How delicate. Well, at least it’s not a bit of plastic.’

Steve nodded. ‘Sadly, it’s out there. They say the government is working on it, but a lot of locals just want the convenience of plastic. I hope the international hotels are more conscious of it because of their guests.’

‘I’m pretty sure Andy is on top of it in the bars – paper straws instead of plastic, things like that – but I’ll check it out,’ said Grace. ‘Ah, here we go. I recognise it now.’ She turned and headed up the sand into the pandanus, date palms and coconut grove.

‘Where’re we going?’

‘It’s the old section of the Kamasan land that they’re not developing for the hotel just yet. But look, over there . . .’

Steve slowed to a stop and whistled. ‘What is this place . . . or was . . .?’ He began taking the lens cap off his camera. ‘How amazing . . .’

She smiled at him. ‘This is it! K’tut’s hotel!’

Steve gazed around him in silence for a moment. ‘No way . . . this is incredible. I had no idea it would be like this.’ Moving forward, he stepped carefully among the few remains of the old stone walls and what might have been a carved gate, almost lost in the tangle of growth, taking photos from all angles.

Grace sat down, hugging her knees as she stared at the strip of beach and sea between the old trees.

Steve finally returned to her and sat down beside her, swiping through the photos he’d taken. ‘How bizarre. Almost sad, isn’t it?’

She smiled. ‘I wanted to show you this because I think it’s the key to the promotion of the Kamasan. Like a phoenix rising from the ashes . . . paradise is restored . . .’ Grace looked at him, her face alight. ‘Here are the ruins of the original hotel on Kuta Beach – The Sound of the Sea. There’s our story! I just have to find out more about the extraordinary woman who did this.’