Grace wandered around while Steve and Mateo filmed the old gardener tending the overflowing beds of vegetables for the kitchens of the Kamasan. She found the whole place endlessly surprising. After a little while she said, ‘We should finish now or you’ll be worn out, Nyoman. Thank you so much for all your time and for showing us your magical garden.’

The old man smiled, clearly enjoying taking the visitors around, and he handed them each a flower he’d picked from one of the colourful beds.

They all thanked him profusely and Steve glanced at his watch. ‘Okay, let’s head over to the bar and catch Andy at work.’

As they walked, Grace said, ‘Steve, I’ve read more of the book on K’tut Tantri that Andy gave me. I’ve been chatting with him about it. It’s mind-blowing. Better than a novel, it’s mesmerising.’

‘I know, right? It really opens your eyes to a different world, doesn’t it?’

Grace was thoughtful. ‘It really does. I’m not sure what it is about it that’s got me so intrigued – K’tut herself, or the times, or how different old Bali was from the one we know today. It’s amazing to be here, reading it. I’d love to talk to you about it when we’re not working.’

‘Sure. Every day here is getting filled up, isn’t it?’ He shrugged. ‘No matter how well you prepare for a day’s shoots, there’s always something that doesn’t go to plan, or something unexpected comes up that we really want to film.’

‘I guess that’s showbiz, eh? C’mon, let’s find Andy and his amazing cocktails.’

*

The design of the main bar, the ambience, the exquisite setting, the music, flower arrangements and flickering candlelight blending with the contemporary lighting, all against the backdrop of the bleeding sunset sky, was inviting, sophisticated and friendly. It promised fun and pleasure.

Leaving Steve and his crew to the filming after helping them to get set up, Grace said, ‘I might go check out the kitchen while I’m here.’

There were well-equipped food-serving areas dotted about the complex, but Grace headed to the heart of the food empire, the main kitchen. As she approached, she heard the clatter of dishes and pans, and smelled a delicious aroma. But suddenly she heard shouting coming from inside.

Hurrying through the doors into the main part of the kitchen, she saw several frightened staff standing back against a wall as Chef Emile shouted at and shook a young chef.

‘Stop that. Immediately,’ shouted Grace, hurrying forward. The red-faced chef let the younger man go and spun around to face her.

‘Sortez d’ici! Allez-vous-en!’ he screeched.

Grace stood her ground. ‘Chef, leave that man alone!’

The frightened young chef hurried towards the group huddled in the corner.

‘What is going on? What happened?’ demanded Grace. ‘Where is Wayan Toni?’