II

Knox woke with a start to discover that the sun was up and the day was growing warm. As he rose to wash and dress, he realised he still had his medical pendant on. Miles insisted on the damned thing whenever he was on an overseas job, but it was inscribed with the MGS logo and would blow his story about being a freelance journalist, so he took it off and packed it away, then brewed coffee on the gas cooker and wondered what to do.

A small stack of promotional leaflets for the nearby guest cabins lay on the reception counter. He took one outside to read while he drank his coffee: French and English text wrapped around touristic photographs: sunbathers glistening with oil on the white sand; angel fish in crystal-clear water; a bearded man Knox took to be the proprietor bouncing across the waves in an inflatable Zodiac; a sailboat silhouetted against a nectarine sunset. He looked up at the sound of footsteps, saw Rebecca arriving from the spiny forest, raised his cup in greeting. ‘Coffee?’ he asked.

‘Love some,’ she nodded.

He refilled his own mug while he was at it, took them both back out, sat down beside her on the veranda bench. She held her cup beneath her nose, breathed in deep, then looked sideways at him. ‘Doesn’t count as a proper holiday if you have to shave, huh?’

‘Something like that,’ he smiled. The sky was bright, mist rising from residual puddles. Grey-headed lovebirds frolicked and chased in the surrounding trees. A radiated tortoise crept slowly along the line of shade, making the most of the morning cool to feed. ‘Tame buggers, aren’t they?’ he said.

‘This is their sanctuary. No one hunts them here.’

‘People hunt them?’

‘Sure. For food. And for the pet trade.’

‘So what’ll happen to them now?’ he asked. Only once the question was out did he realise its unfortunate implication. He winced and held up a hand. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.’

‘It’s okay,’ she assured him. ‘I need to think about it.’ She looked around, as though seeing it through different eyes. ‘I’ll certainly keep it going,’ she told him. ‘My father and Emilia would want that. But I’m not coming back. My life’s in England now.’

Knox nodded. ‘It should be easy enough to find someone to run a place like this.’

‘Harder than you might think. Managing a nature reserve is bloody hard work. People dream about places like this, but it’s not all sunshine and reefs.’

‘I’ll bet.’ Her words reminded him of the promotional leaflet, however. He passed it to her.

‘Oh.’ Her face fell. ‘So you’re moving on, then?’

‘Not unless you still want me to.’ He pointed to the picture of the sailboat. ‘I was just wondering, is this the boat you were telling me about last night? Your father’s, I mean. The one you want to collect from Tulear.’

She glanced down at it. ‘Yes. Yes it is.’

‘A flat-bottomed sloop,’ he told her. ‘Not quick, but a piece of piss to handle. And I’d need someone who knows the reefs, of course. Or the passes between them, at least.’

She looked up at him in surprise. ‘You can sail?’

‘Sure,’ he told her. ‘I’d imagined it was bigger. But something like that, no problem.’

Rebecca nodded slowly. ‘I know the reefs,’ she said. ‘It’s been a while, but I don’t suppose they’ve moved.’