‘Do you want me to swing by and we’ll go together?’ Steve asked Grace, when she and Andy had filled him in on everything that had happened and the plans for the night.

‘Yes, please,’ said Grace. The chef’s apparent murder had unnerved her and the last thing she wanted was to go to a fancy bar. As it was, she didn’t know how she’d get through dinner.

*

Watching Daisy and her mother admire La Lucciola’s setting and enjoy its attentive service helped Grace to calm her nerves. She’d decided not to mention anything to Tina yet about the chef; she wanted them to enjoy their evening together first.

They had a drink before dinner as Daisy practised handstands on the lawn and played in the sand in front of the restaurant. Then Grace waved to her to come in and clean her feet and put her sandals on as they were going upstairs to their table.

On the balcony overlooking the beach, they watched the sky change from pink, to orange, to gold.

‘You never forget the Bali sunsets,’ said Tina softly.

‘Feeling nostalgic, Mum?’

‘Oh, yes. We’d eat dinner on the beach, right down there. Sit in the sand, and a local family would bring food and snacks and drinks, for pennies really. We’d light a fire, other friends might roll up, hire a bemo or a bike, or walk along the beach or down the sandy village lanes behind the palms. Some might share a joint, drink Bintang beers, or just talk. Occasionally someone might have a guitar. I used to carry a little torch because once the sun had gone down, there were hardly any lights and it could be pitch black. Then I’d go back to the little bamboo hut I rented for a couple of dollars, where there was a kerosene lamp, the smoky glass cleaned by the pembantu each day, and fall into bed. I remember my sheets were always dried in the sun and neatly folded with a flower left on my pillow.’

‘That’s a lovely custom that I notice is still followed,’ Grace said.

‘In the morning the pembantu would leave offerings in the house, at the shrine in the garden, and would sweep all the frangipani flowers off the sandy grass.’

‘And you’d head out for another day at the beach.’ Grace laughed.

‘Yes, a morning swim, then we’d move around, following the boys surfing. Or hire scooters and go into the hills to Ubud or up the coast. Kuta was the hot spot to hang on the beach and there were a few casual little bars. Occasionally we’d share a scooter over to the Rum Jungle Club in Legian, bumping over the potholes . . .’

‘And Sanur?’

‘It was quieter, a bit snobbier. I s’pose there’s still a bit of a class divide around here. Your hotel sounds like it’s going to be very exclusive.’