‘Yes, we should. I’d better read his book, too,’ said Grace. ‘I know you said he questions whether parts of K’tut’s story are true, but I don’t think we should let that put us off. If we have to take some artistic licence here and there, then so be it.’

Steve went to speak, but stopped as the waiter brought their main course, placing the artfully presented dishes in front of them.

‘How gorgeous,’ said Grace.

‘Art on a plate. Beautiful ingredients. Bon appetit.’

They ate slowly, savouring each mouthful, as the waiter poured the wine.

Smiling, Steve lifted his glass. ‘To your friend K’tut!’

‘Our friend.’ Grace leaned forward. ‘So, what do you think, Steve? I’ll produce, you direct. First step will be getting investment. We need a really hot screenwriter to do a treatment to whet investors’ appetites. I’ll take your advice on key crew, and we can argue over who to cast. K’tut herself is such a fabulous role. At that time, when she was fighting for Indonesia, she was in her early thirties.’

Steve started to chuckle. ‘You’ve really got the bug. I can see that being up here brings the story to life for you.’

‘I was thinking we could get Indonesian investment, maybe even government funding. She’s the forgotten heroine of Indonesia.’

‘Hang on, you’re forgetting a very important point.’ Steve took a sip of his wine.

Grace finished her mouthful of Crab Papua and looked at him. ‘I realise there’s a lot to work on, but what were you thinking?’

‘The rights to her book. She’s dead. You’ll have to chase her publisher, her agent, or her family. How’re you going to do that? Didn’t you or Andy say that the publishing company doesn’t exist anymore? And from what I read about her, she didn’t have children. We don’t know where she saw out her days. Back on the Isle of Man? California? Here?’

‘We’ll have to ask the professor,’ said Grace, unfazed. ‘I’m sure we can jump all these hurdles. So when can we see him?’

‘He said he’d call me. I’ll send him a text tomorrow to jog his memory.’

‘Now you’re sounding keen.’ Grace smiled. ‘I just knew there was a reason I felt so attached to the Sound of the Sea.’

‘Oh, that reminds me.’ Steve put his cutlery together and pushed back his plate. He reached into his satchel hanging by its strap on the back of his chair.

‘I found this and thought you might like it.’ He handed her a small rolled-up canvas tied with twine.

Grace put down her glass and stared in surprise. ‘What is it?’

He smiled. ‘Have a look.’

Puzzled, she unrolled a painting and stared at the scene.