‘Being here really is a wonderful experience for her,’ said Tina. ‘Lots to occupy her developing brain; new people, different language, and an exciting school. Not to mention all the delicious new food she’s trying.’

Grace smiled, guessing that her mother was trying to lighten her mood. ‘Did you see what she wrote in her homework book yesterday?’ she said. ‘“I love dragon fruit but I hate durian.”’

She relished these light conversations; they helped her overcome the dark moments. Sometimes she felt as if she couldn’t fit anything more into her head. Just as things had been going well, along came Lawrence to throw a rock into the smooth pond of her life.

She squeezed her mother’s shoulder affectionately and went to get changed.

Later, when Grace had finished editing the latest script and Daisy was busy with Sri, ‘helping’ her cook noodles – Sri had the patience of a saint, Grace often thought – Grace settled down in the garden with K’tut’s book.

Really, thought Grace, how could she complain about her life, compared with what K’tut went through? And so many of the people K’tut knew had died or simply disappeared. Grace found it hard to imagine this sunny, happy island under the terrible cloud of war, and it had all happened so close to Australia.

By this stage in the book, as K’tut recounted, the Japanese were mortified at the lowering of their flag. That was nothing in comparison to the Dutch colonials’ anger. They had expected to return to their elegant homes in Indonesia with their servants and countless labourers who worked, indeed probably slaved, on their plantations and in their factories.

K’tut seemed proud to record that Sukarno, the leader of the freedom movement, had stepped forward. In the square in front of the palace of the Dutch governor-general, which was filled with thousands of local people, Sukarno had declared his country’s independence on behalf of the Indonesian people. The thousands gathered in the square had begun weeping and shouting, ‘Merdeka . . . Merdeka . . . Freedom . . .’

Then, read Grace, British troops moved in. Mountbatten, their commander, was misled and manipulated by the Dutch, who were hoping to reclaim their hold on Indonesia with the backing of the British soldiers. So, if the British were fighting for the Dutch, the Indonesians, against their will, would have to fight for their freedom. And, as K’tut wrote, the Dutch smiled and waited, biding their time.

Grace poured herself a glass of pineapple juice and returned to her book.

During the first month after my deliverance from the Japanese prison hospital I lived in the shadow of death. Under the gentle care of the Indonesian doctor I gained strength, day by day. Every morning and evening he unfolded for me the story of the Indonesian declaration of independence. He read the daily news to me. Later he brought me a radio.