‘Yes, maybe they were; certainly there must have been some wild times in Bali. When I made the film about the art colony at Ubud in the twenties and thirties, I researched the German artist Walter Spies and his amazing life up there. His paintings sell for a bundle these days – one went for eight million dollars recently at Sotheby’s. You should go up to Ubud when you have time. It’s a totally different atmosphere in the hills,’ Steve said. ‘Anyway, Spies’s home is now an up-market rental to the stars and royals. Bowie loved it; Jagger got married there. It’s been beautifully restored.’

‘Really? Will it be in competition with the Kamasan?’

‘Well, not really, although they both appeal to top-end clients. One is in the mountains and one’s at the beach, plus the Kamasan is a hotel, not a house,’ said Steve. ‘But both have their own unique appeal, and the Kamasan’s privacy and solitude at the beach is pretty hard to come by compared to most places.’

‘That’s what K’tut thought. I wonder what she’d make of Kuta Beach now.’ Grace smiled.

‘I think she might be happy about the Kamasan. It’s still got the privacy, the secret garden vibe . . .’

‘You’re right.’ Grace glanced at her notes. ‘Jumping ahead, we’ll have to film the blessing and opening ceremonies, when the hotel officially launches. Plus the big glittering opening party, of course. Has Johnny said anything to you about it?’

Steve shrugged. ‘No date has been set for it yet, as far as I know. But they have the money to buy any big name they want to launch it, I’d say. Johnny knows everyone. And if he doesn’t, his father does.’

‘That’ll be a pretty exclusive invitation. Okay, I’ll put a query next to that one.’ Grace made a note.

They talked on, developing ideas for the upcoming segments, making notes and finalising plans. Eventually, Grace pushed back her laptop and stretched. ‘We’ve covered a lot of ground this afternoon. I should head back now and get ready to go out to dinner. It’ll be a bit different from what Mum remembers – she told me on the phone last week that when she was here before they’d have suckling pig feasts on the beach. A group would get together for the festivities and a local family would have cooked the pig all day . . . I just can’t imagine that happening anymore.’

‘We should mention that to Andy. He’ll want to do suckling pig feasts at the Kamasan, for sure. You can imagine it – traditional preparation but with a modern and stylish twist.’

Just then Kadek, one of the local production guys, came running towards them, panting and looking distressed.

‘Hey, man, what’s up? Take it easy,’ said Steve, getting to his feet. ‘Sit down.’