Dean smiles. ‘She was my sweetheart right through college. We were at UCLA together.’ That’s about the only American university I’ve heard of—that and Princeton and of course Harvard. ‘She was majoring in media and film. I was studying social anthropology.’

We both laugh.

‘Yeah,’ he continues. ‘Maybe I should have spotted the differences then.’ His eyes glitter in the flickering flames. ‘I’m the only guy from California I know who never wanted anything to do with the film industry.’

‘So Betty Jane’s married to a movie star?’

‘No, she dumped me for my best friend, who’s now a Realtor.’ Dean shrugs as if to say it takes all sorts. ‘I was offered a chance to come out here with the volunteer programme and jumped at it. I had no commitments, there was no need to even think twice. My first year was spent compiling research of the different kinds of herbs that the villagers use for medicine. I fell in love with the place.’

I wonder who else he fell in love with.

‘I bumped into Betty Jane once on a visit home. She said she wished she’d never let me go. She said my former buddy had got fat and lazy. All he ever wanted to talk about was selling beachfront homes.’ He draws on his beer again. ‘She said we could have been married with two kids and living in the Valley. Woo!’ Dean laughs. ‘I think she did me the best favour of my life.’

He looks up at the stars in open admiration. I smile at him. His nose is pudgy, and if he were still living in California I bet he’d have had it changed by now. ‘So you see, every cloud does have a silver lining.’

‘Don’t you miss your folks?’

Dean shakes his head. ‘We’re not that close. It’s one of the things I regret. Now that I’m out here, I realise how important a sense of community is. There’s no feeling like that in L.A. Your neighbours are more likely to shoot you than help you out.’ He glances over at me and gives me a broad grin. ‘Or maybe that’s just where I come from.’

Sanjeev Sherpa comes over and gives Dean another bottle of beer. He places his hand on his shoulder. ‘Brother,’ is all that he says. Dean goes through the ritual of opening it and pouring it into our cups again. My eyes are getting rolly from the warmth of the fire and cumulative effects of the fresh air and bottled beverages.