Peter Vincent had been reluctant to leave the town. He’d searched every street and every lane looking for Ilona. Only when he’d learnt that all the children had been evacuated onto the beach did it occur to him that Ilona would also be there. Then he’d sprinted straight down the hill and over the footbridge.

It was when he was running over the sand dunes that he heard what sounded like a squadron of bombers flying low overhead. Immediately he fell flat on his face. There was no raid, though. There would be no shelling from the ocean, no bombing from overhead. He was lying on Jingera Beach hemmed in like all the other refugees between the burning bush and the sea. Brushing the sand from his face, he looked at the bush between the beach and the lagoon. The treetops were blazing like a torched city after the planes had dropped their bombs. The roaring he’d heard was from the fire jumping across the lagoon. Black smoke belched across the beach and the sky was almost as dark as a moonless night. The only illumination was provided by the burning trees that were, as he watched, transformed into an orange wall of flame.

Ilona had to be here somewhere. Please God, she was here somewhere. He couldn’t bear to lose her but he had to avoid thinking of that. He had to keep his nerve and move methodically from one group to the next until he found her.

It was then that he heard someone call his name. Someone who couldn’t pronounce it quite correctly, someone who put equal emphasis on each syllable. He felt a lurching in his chest and a prickling behind his eyes. She was here. She was safe.

Changing course, he ran towards the line of breakers. There she was, standing not far from the edge of the surf. Just before reaching her, he stumbled and might have fallen had Ilona not stood up and taken his arm.

‘Thank God you’re here,’ he said. ‘Where’s Zidra?’

‘With one of the O’Rourke girls.’ She pointed, and Peter saw the two children standing next to a partially constructed sandcastle and staring at the burning bush.

‘Thank God you’re both safe.’

She put her arms around him and held him close. So close that he was able to bury his face in her hair that reeked of eucalyptus smoke and tickled his nostrils. For a few moments they remained like that. He could hardly believe this miracle: that he had found her, that he was able to hold her, and that she had reached out for him first. When she looked up at last, he saw in her fine brown eyes something that was unmistakably affection, something that might even be love. For weeks he’d hoped for this although never had he admitted it to himself, never until now. And the amazing thing was that for years he’d thought of himself as unlovable and, on his worst days, as incapable of love. How wrong he’d been though, he could see that in her eyes and feel it in his heart. How tired he was of being alone, tired of having only himself and his dogs and Ferndale to watch over. He cared for Ilona Talivaldis and wanted to protect her, and he began to murmur this into her ear.

When he eventually paused for breath, she whispered that she had become fond of him too. The moment she’d first realised this was when she’d heard about the trouble he’d taken to check with the Welfare Board about poor Lorna. That’s when she’d recognised that he was a good man, a kind man, one whom she could trust. That’s when she’d decided that he wasn’t just a handsome face with nice hair that was in desperate need of a good haircut in a style that she herself could easily administer.

He laughed at this. ‘Samson and Delilah. I’m not sure I should let you cut my hair.’

‘Your strength is not in your hair. It’s in your heart and your head.’

‘My arms are quite strong too.’

‘All the better to hold me with, and now it is time for your embrocation.’

‘My embrocation?’

‘Yes. When you tell me when you began to care for me.’

‘Ah, the embrocation.’ Not for an instant was he tempted to suggest that reciprocation might be more appropriate, nor to laugh. ‘Let me see. I began to fall for you ages ago. I can even tell you exactly where.’ Down the beach he pointed, although the spot where she’d been about to venture into the rip all those weeks ago was not visible through the dense smoke haze.

‘But I was impossible then.’

‘You were but it was your lovely face that hooked me.’

Never would he tell her that it was that metamorphosis of vulnerability into antagonism that had awakened his interest, nor would he reveal how delightful was her use and misuse of long words. Let her think it was her beauty and charm that had won his heart. At this moment he noticed on her left cheek a dark smudge that he tried to brush away, but his fingers were also covered with dust, and the smudge became larger. This gave her a clownish appearance that once he might have found amusing but now found added greatly to her loveliness.

She put a finger on his mouth and traced its outline and he had just placed his lips on hers when he heard someone calling his name. It was George Cadwallader, staggering towards them and shouting.

It was hard to distinguish his words, what with the surf thundering onto the sand and the fire crackling in the bush beyond the dunes. When George reached them, he took hold of Peter’s arm. Normally unflappable, he was in a terrible state. His eyes were staring and he was so breathless he could hardly fashion the words. ‘It’s Jim. He wasn’t in school when the kids were evacuated. He’s gone AWOL.’

‘What’s AWOL?’ asked Zidra, who had abandoned watching the fire and was now plucking anxiously at Peter’s sleeve.

‘Absent without official leave,’ said Peter. ‘Where have you looked, George?’

‘All over the place. Can’t see him anywhere.’

‘I’ll help you find him. You do the beach and I’ll see if I can get back into Jingera.’

‘I’ll help,’ said Zidra.

‘No you won’t,’ said Ilona, grabbing hold of her hand.

‘Yes, stay with your mother,’ Peter said. ‘She needs looking after too. I’ll find Jim and you make sure your mother doesn’t go missing again. I’ve been searching for her since lunchtime.’

Zidra didn’t smile.

‘Promise me you’ll keep an eye on her,’ Peter added.

‘I promise.’ Zidra didn’t look at him though. She gazed behind him, at the burning bush that illuminated her worried face.