‘Ginger salad to start with. Gin thoke they call it. What do you say?’

She focused on his eyes and felt she’d agree to anything he might suggest.

‘They make it with pickled ginger, plus lentils and lima beans which are soaked overnight and then crispy fried and mixed with shredded cabbage, peanuts, sesame seeds, lime juice and fish sauce.’ He waved a hand about. ‘Fish sauce is what you can smell, and it tastes a lot better than it smells.’

She grinned.

As he ordered she watched his hands tapping out a rhythm on the table.

‘What’s that?’ she said.

‘Just a tune. You know the way they get stuck in your head?’ He paused. ‘So, after getting to know the food – next time we’ll have tea leaf salad – I shall introduce you to Burmese culture, music and so on, starting with the most important pagoda.’

Next time, she thought. There will be a next time. And she felt thrilled at the thought.

28.

In the early evening, two days later, Belle and Oliver made their way to Sanguttara Hill and the Shwedagon Pagoda. Hectic market stalls selling fabric, sticky cakes, wooden goods and flowers lined the way, while brightly coloured umbrellas protected the traders from the heat. The whole place teemed with people flocking to buy and, here and there among them, Belle spotted young women sweeping the ground.

‘They volunteer,’ Oliver said. ‘It’s central to their beliefs to gain merit by charitable work and good deeds, thus increasing the chance of a favourable reincarnation.’

‘And the pagodas? Why are there so many in Burma?’

‘Well, the wealthy pay for pagodas to be built to increase merit. Each of those is an Odeiktha zedi. But there are other kinds of pagodas too with holy relics inside.’

Belle nodded. They moved on and soon reached a stall packed with bamboo cages, each with a tiny green sparrow-like bird confined within. ‘Look!’ she said, aghast.

‘Would you like one?’ Oliver asked.

She shrank back. ‘A bird in a cage? No thank you.’

‘It isn’t what you think. Come on.’

Reluctantly, she followed him as he stepped up to the stall.

‘So, how many?’ he asked, twisting round to her.

‘Are you crazy?’

He grinned at her. ‘Trust me.’

As he bartered with the trader Belle stood watching anxiously. After a few moments an agreement seemed to have been reached and the man placed three cages on top of a makeshift table.

‘All yours,’ Oliver said.

She raised her brows but didn’t move.

‘Go on.’

‘But I don’t want them.’

‘Just open the cages. You can let the birds go now. That’s what they’re here for. It will gain you merit.’

She shook her head and laughed. ‘Honestly, Oliver, you let me think …’ Her words trailed off.

‘I couldn’t resist it.’