Bewildered, Aunt Constance held the two fowls at arm’s length. They hung upside down, feathers sticking out untidily, their legs like sticks. The larger fowl protested by madly flapping.

‘Don’t drop them!’ Joshua called as his mother squealed. Deborah fled to the other side of the room.

‘You can hypnotise fowls by stroking their breastbones,’ put in Hannah.

Mrs Stanton disregarded her niece’s inventive suggestion, carried the fowls outside and returned empty-handed. ‘I hope they don’t wander off before Mr Stanton decides where he wants them kept. Fowls are a welcome addition. The Lord can turn any situation to his servants’ advantage.’

That was one way to describe an apology. Ten minutes ago a knock at the door, a hesitant speech in broken English and a dark hand thrust across the threshold had left Aunt Constance with the two fowls in her hands and a bemused expression on her face. Ratu Rabete had sent one of his men with an appeasement offering to show he was, in the words of his messenger, ‘Big angry at bad men armed with teeth.’ The man had departed with a promise that further disturbances during church services would meet drastic retaliation. With a wincingly clever mime, he had demonstrated the consequences to an offender’s skull.

Only last night Ratu Rabete had wrapped his large fingers around Uncle Henry’s throat. Today he was sending gifts. Hannah was unsure what this erratic behaviour meant.

With the fowls safely outside, Joshua’s nose back behind his book and Aunt Constance silently brushing Deborah’s hair, Hannah was again bored. ‘Aunt Con … Aunt!’

‘You may call me Aunt Constance when it’s just ourselves, Hannah.’

‘May Joshua and I take Deborah for a walk, somewhere that would be safe?’ She hastened to add, ‘We wouldn’t run or make much noise, just a quiet stroll … there’s so much nature here to appreciate.’ It might not be a convincing reason for a walk, but that was all that Hannah could come up with on the spur of the moment.

Joshua peered over the top of his book, waiting to see whether escape was possible.

Aunt Constance placed the brush on the table. ‘Do you want to go for a walk with Hannah, darling?’

‘Darling’ nodded.

‘Would you like me to come with you?’ offered Aunt Constance.

Hannah smiled, steeling herself to show no disappointment. ‘If you’d like to. But we’ll be fine if you want to rest while the house is quiet. You look tired.’

Her aunt seemed relieved: the offer had only been a display of good manners. ‘Joshua!’

‘Yes, Mother.’ In his eagerness, Joshua dropped the book.

‘Hannah may like to see the beach again. There was so much confusion yesterday.’

As they set off, Aunt Constance issued a warning. ‘Remember it’s the Sabbath, a Holy day, and we must set an example for the villagers. They will judge the Lord by our actions.’

Solemnly Joshua and his cousin nodded. Hannah took Deborah’s hand in hers, and an unexpected warmth swept over her. In her other hand the child clutched an unusual doll, carved from wood, with unruly brown hair of coconut fibres. A pink dress and half-worn painted features made the toy look absurd. If Deborah would let her, Hannah could certainly repair the face with her paints but the hair was beyond help. Oblivious of the odd nature of her toy, Deborah squeezed it close to her chest.

‘What’s your doll called, Deborah?’

‘Charlie.’ She looked proud and motherly.

Hannah wanted to laugh but she knew it would hurt Deborah’s feelings. Never had she met a Charlie who wore a pink dress. She scarcely knew whether to call the doll ‘he’ or ‘she’.

‘Ratu Rabete made that for Deborah,’ Joshua explained.

Deborah smiled from ear to ear. Away from her parents, she was more communicative and for the first time, Hannah noticed the little girl had a lisp.

They kept their pace slow until they were out of sight, but couldn’t keep the excitement from their faces. Hannah tapped Joshua’s arm as they reached the marked tree, and raised one eyebrow. He shrugged and kept walking. Oh well, she’d find out eventually.

Joshua halted where the path forked. ‘Let’s go this way. Then we don’t pass the village.’

Hannah agreed. She had no desire to march past the church and attract Uncle Henry’s critical attention.

Once at the beach, Deborah practically danced on the sand. Shells and sprigs of seaweed littered the shore, and loose coconuts queued at the previous waterline. There were three women wading in shallow water some distance out.

‘They’re looking for shellfish,’ Joshua explained.

Hannah collapsed onto the fine sand. She removed her sunhat, unravelled her hair from its plait, rumpling the curls with eager fingers. The blue clear sea stretched before her, reminding her that across that expanse there were other lands. She scooped up a handful of sand, letting it run silkily through her fingers. It was so much cooler and more pleasant on the beach.

‘Deborah, let’s build a sandcastle.’ Joshua moved down to the wet, heavy sand. His little sister hurled herself onto his back, one hand still clutching her doll and, to her delight, Joshua pretended to fall.

Disregarding her navy dress and the clinging sand, Hannah lay on the sand then rolled onto her stomach with one ear close to the ground. She could feel faint vibrations. Was it the waves as they swept over the sand, or was it the reef?

She laughed and shook the sand from her hair. Leaving her cousins to construct sandy turrets and other embellishments, she sauntered along the shore. With the tide out and the water crystal clear, coral was visible. Tiny iridescent blue fish chased each other into the shallows, turning left and right at unseen signals. Miniature crabs no larger than a man’s thumbnail scuttled across the sand. Hannah raised her arm and the women searching for shellfish waved back.

Hannah unlaced her boots and although she did not dare roll down her stockings, enjoyed the cool sand against her stockinged feet. A larger set of footprints meandered along the waterline and she stepped beside them, comparing feet sizes. Her own prints were different: the indent of her heel was deeper whereas the larger footprints were even.

A sharp scream interrupted her and boots in one hand, Hannah raced back to where the beach curved outwards. Deborah was trying to hurl herself off the rocks into the water while her brother hung onto the back of her dress. Heart pounding, Hannah clambered awkwardly over the black rocks, terrified at the thought that Deborah might be hurt. How could she explain that to Aunt Constance? Hannah would never be forgiven. Her aunt and uncle would send her to a home for wayward girls and throw away the key.

‘What is it, Deborah? Are you hurt?’

Joshua’s face was filled with panic. Deborah kept struggling, her angry face growing redder by the second. The little girl pointed out to sea. ‘Charlie!’

Some distance away, a familiar lump of wood in a pink dress bobbed up and down as it was carried by the tide.

‘Don’t cry, little one. I’ll get Charlie for you.’

Deborah hiccupped. Her bottom lip trembled menacingly. Hannah was an only child, but she had spent enough time with the neighbour’s noisy brood to know when a fit of hysterics was about to happen. She stood, holding a hand to her eyes to shield them from the hot sun. Charlie was happily floating and bouncing across the bay, towards the rocks on the other end of the beach.

‘Take Deborah back to the sand, Joshua. I’ll save Charlie.’ Deborah began a slow wail which threatened to wind up to a full-scale explosion. ‘Now, Joshua!’ Hannah’s tone was more abrupt than she meant it to be but separating child and toy meant all hell could break loose.

She had to be quick to stop Charlie doll from floating away. Leaping from rock to rock, she hurled her boots onto the sand and with her skirt hitched in two hands, sprinted across the beach. When she reached the rocks, she climbed gingerly to the furthest point. Her foot scraped down a rock, ripping a hole in her stockings and making her wince.

Charlie was still visible, his fibrous hair dipping and rising as he drifted closer. If she could just hang onto this niche and stretch out, she could grab him. Ready, set, now!

As luck would have it, Charlie, at that moment, happened to dip rather than bob. His wayward head disappeared under Hannah’s outstretched hand. There was a second’s delay as her brain caught up with the lurch of her body, and she knew she was going to fall.