‘Can you do it?’ Robert asked, grabbing my leg and looking up at me.

‘Can I feed it?’

He nodded. His eyes were bright and wide.

I crouched down and looked into his face. ‘I’ve got a better idea,’ I said. ‘You can feed a peacock. When we get to the other part of the island. The best part.’

‘Can I?’ Robert looked at me with a little frown, not quite believing it.

‘Yes,’ I said, lifting him up onto my shoulders and carrying him away from the clearing, back to his mother. ‘You can feed as many peacocks as you like.’

‘They might bite me.’

‘They won’t. I’ll make sure.’

We never made it to the north-east beach, but I didn’t mind because, towards the end of that afternoon, two peacocks found us.

Kathryn spotted them first. I’d thought that perhaps I wouldn’t be able to keep my promise to Robert, that I’d have to tell him we’d feed some birds on another day, but just as we were about to pack up our picnic things and head back for the ferry, my wife nudged me.

‘Over there.’

Robert was standing up, stretching and rubbing his eyes. It had been a long, hot day; he was tired, and I expected some trouble – perhaps a few tears or a little tantrum – soon.

I caught hold of his hand and drew him close to me. ‘Look,’ I whispered. ‘Look.’

They were just as magnificent as the first bird: their tiny heads made me think of clusters of precious gems, winking in the late afternoon light.

‘Do you think they’d like some sandwiches?’ I said.

Robert gave me a big smile.

Kathryn sat and watched as I ripped up the last of our crusts and handed them to Robert.

‘Quietly,’ I said. ‘Just let them come to you.’

Moving as slowly and carefully as I could, I scattered a line of crumbs along the grass, starting from a spot close to the birds and ending at the point where Robert was crouched, ready.

We waited. Robert licked his lips; his face settled into a determined frown. He stared and stared at those peacocks until, eventually, one began to strut towards him, following the trail of bread. Its beak stabbed the ground repeatedly, and Robert studied its every move as it came closer.

‘Do you think he’ll be OK?’ Kathryn hissed.

‘He’ll be fine,’ I whispered.

When the bird was almost close enough to take the bread, Robert looked back at me; I simply nodded to him, and he resumed his position.

He remained absolutely still as the peacock bent its head to his palm and took the food. He watched that bird with wonder, his mouth gaping and his eyes wide, but he didn’t make a sound. Only when the crumbs were all gone did he straighten up and let out a squeal, which made the bird scurry away on its spindly legs.

But he’d done it.

I looked at Kathryn. ‘You see?’ I said. ‘He’s tougher than we think.’