They sit outside on the verandah at her suggestion. The light from the hanging, wind-swayed Chinese lanterns falls softly on them. The breeze blowing from the lagoon below smells fresh to her nostrils; she loves its dampness on her bare arms and face. She looks at him across the circular table, with its vase holding a single rose. He appears nervous. A thin film of sweat covers his forehead. He removes his cap and dabs at his forehead with a white handkerchief.

‘Do you like it, a Chinese restaurant?’ he asks, like a father anxious to please his favourite child. It is their first outing together. He pestered her until she gave in. Sometimes she is at a loss what to make of his attentions. She sighs. She turns her plump face to the deep, blue lagoon. A white boat with dark stripes on its sides speeds past; a figure is crouched inside, almost invisible. Her light, flower-patterned gown shivers in the light breeze. She watches him covertly. He handles his chopsticks awkwardly, but determinedly.

‘Waiter!’ he barks, his mouth full of fish, startling her. ‘Bring another bottle of wine!’

‘No. I am all right, really,’ she says firmly, putting down her chopsticks.

After the meal, which has been quite delicious, he lifts the tiny, wine-filled porcelain cup before him and says: ‘To you. And me.’

She sips her drink, avoiding his eyes.

‘I love you, Janice. Very much. I know you think I am not serious. That I only want to suck. The juice and throw away the peel. No.’ He suddenly dips his hand into the pocket of his well-ironed white kaftan and brings out a yellow paper.

‘Read and see.’ He pushes the paper across the table to her. ‘I wrote it. For you. A poem.’

She opens the paper. It smells faintly of sandalwood. She looks at the title: ‘Three Words’. She reaches past the vase with its single, white rose, past the wine bottle, the wine glasses, and covers his hairy hand with hers briefly. ‘Thank you.’

She reads the poem, shifting in her seat towards the swaying light of the lantern:

Three words

When I hear the waterfall clarity of your laughter,

When I see the twilight softness of your eyes,

I feel like draping you all over myself, like a cloak,

To be warmed by your warmth.

Your flower-petal innocence, your perennial

Sapling resilience – your endless charms

All these set my mind on wild flights of fancy:

I add word unto word,

I compare adjectives and coin exotic phrases

But they all seem jaded, corny, unworthy

Of saying all I want to say to you.

So I take refuge in these simple words,

Trusting my tone, my hand in yours, when I

Whisper them, to add depth and new

Twists of meaning to them. Three words:

I love you.