‘Johnny and I went shopping. I paid for mine. But we had a lot of fun. He’s a crazy guy. Pretends to be so tough,’ she added.

‘You got him in one,’ said Grace.

Then they were swallowed up in a swirl of action, as events rolled on exactly as Johnny had planned.

Suddenly Henry was at her side. ‘Hi. Wow, you look hot, Grace! We’re over there. Steve has set up the three cameras, follow me.’

‘You look pretty darn good too,’ she said, noticing Henry’s new shirt and trousers, which replaced his usual t-shirt and old jeans.

The opening ceremony was short but filled with heartfelt speeches and thank yous, delivered at the top of the sweeping staircase in the massive foyer of the Kamasan. One of the revered artists spoke on behalf of Kamasan village, thanking the Pangisar family for their support and the beautiful showcasing of the important pieces of art hanging above them.

Then in a surprise twist that had the crowd laughing one minute, then dabbing at their eyes the next, Johnny and his father spoke of their shared dream for this place. Johnny was first.

‘I’d like to welcome and thank all our foreign friends – you bule! Our long-time friend Andy over there, who truly is a great mate. As many of you know, Andy wears the mantle of bule proudly and we love him for that, as we Indonesians also tend to call a spade a spade. As you might also know, I was educated among the bule in Australia. At first, I thought it lived up to its reputation as being outrageously racist . . . until I realised many people were simply having a joke. Australians do that a lot. Anyway, what I am trying to say is thank you to all my Aussie bule mates for teaching me not to take life too seriously, to always appreciate your family, and to hang on to good friends. Now, here is my father . . .’

Johnny handed the microphone to Harold and draped an arm about his shoulders as Harold spoke.

‘The Kamasan represents not just a hotel, but a place for visitors to briefly share what makes us Balinese – it is filled with blessings of love, beauty, hospitality and generosity. We invite you to share our respect for our land, our culture and our past, and to pass on a future to our children where everyone may share a little in all these things that the Kamasan represents. Welcome to our family.’

The speeches ended and the applause thundered.

Amid the sounds of laughing guests, the smell of flowers and roasting food, the gongs rang out. The traditional dances were about to begin on the garden stage, lit by flame torches and stunning subtle lighting effects, which were studded around the grounds as if conjured by a magic wand.

Grace felt a hand gently take her arm.

‘Hey, fairy princess!’ said Steve softly.