From the airport Bluey hired an open-top jeep and drove them to the sleepy island capital of Taipivai. It was the most spectacular drive of Amazon’s life – and, given that she’d recently ventured into the forests of Siberia, that was actually saying something. All around her she could see the mountains climb almost vertically up until their tops were lost in the clouds. At times the clouds flowed down the thickly forested slopes to envelop the road, like silent avalanches, drenching the hair of the passengers in something that was neither mist nor rain.

‘I tell you, Amazon,’ said Frazer, ‘I’ve been to some truly stunning places in my time – I’ve seen the Himalayas and Mount Kilimanjaro, and the Rockies, and I’ve dived on the Great Barrier Reef in Australia, but I’ve never seen anything like this.’

There was something else that struck Amazon.

‘Have you noticed that there aren’t any people?’ she said. ‘I don’t mean like a desert … you know, one of those places where people have never lived. It’s as if there were once people here, but they’ve all gone away. Kind of spooky.’

‘Yeah,’ Frazer nodded. ‘Now that you mention it, it does seem haunted. What’s the story, Bluey?’

‘It’s a sad one. But I’m not the guy to tell it. The weather’s too crummy for hanging out by the beach, so I’ll hook you up with a guide later on while I go to charter the boat to take us on to Uva’avu. He’ll give you the low-down.’

So, later that morning, Bluey left them at a little French café by the waterfront, while he went to find transportation for the final leg of the journey.

He checked his watch anxiously. ‘The guide’ll be here in a few minutes. Sorry to leave you, but I’ve got to find us that boat, and I’ve a feeling it won’t be easy.’

Amazon wasn’t quite sure what yams and cassava were, but she half expected to breakfast on them (or something similarly tropical). However, the café, like much of the island, had been greatly influenced by French culture, and so they munched their way through croissants washed down with hot chocolate. As they ate, they gazed out of the window, watching the dark clouds build over the ocean, like armies preparing for battle.

And then a reflection appeared in the window, and it was so strange and so startling that for a moment Amazon thought it was something she’d imagined, or a trick of the light. But, when she and Fraser turned round, they discovered that it was very real indeed.

He was a giant of a man, young, tall and straight, and with muscles bulging beneath his frayed and faded T-shirt. Black eyes stared out from under a heavy brow, and his face wore a look of fierce dignity and haughty pride.

But neither his features nor his physique were what marked out the man. It was that every centimetre of visible skin was covered in intricate tattoos. Patterns of giddying complexity curled over his arms, neck, face and legs. Amazon thought that they might represent flowers and plants and animals and, as she stared, the shapes seemed almost to move, to writhe and swirl as if they were alive.

‘I am Matahi,’ said the man, in a voice as deep and resonant as the ocean.

‘Oh, hi,’ said Frazer, his voice sounding even lighter and merrier than usual in contrast to the Polynesian’s dark rumble. ‘You must be the guide that Bluey talked about.’

Matahi said nothing, but his head made a small movement, which seemed to indicate that yes, this was so.

‘Follow,’ Matahi commanded, and turned to walk out of the café.

Amazon and Frazer looked at each other.

‘Are we sure this is a good idea …?’ Amazon whispered.

‘Er, yeah, I guess so. Why, don’t you?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. It’s just, well, he’s a bit weird …’

‘You mean the tattoos? That’s the custom here. Lots of the people have them – you must have noticed.’

It was true – many of the native Marquesans had tattoos on their arms and faces.

‘But not like him … And it’s not just the tattoos, it’s … well, our guide’s not exactly the cheeriest person I’ve ever met.’

Frazer was about to answer, but he became aware that the tall Polynesian had returned.

‘Can you ride horse?’ he said.

‘Yes,’ Amazon replied, suddenly very interested. ‘Why …?’

‘I have,’ said Matahi, and pointed outside, ‘horses best for this island. Roads are not good. Petrol is much money. Come.’

And suddenly Amazon’s qualms and concerns were completely forgotten. Matahi led them to a paddock just outside the town, where three scruffy horses flicked their tails at flies and munched on wet grass.

But Frazer and Amazon didn’t care if the horses were scruffy. They both loved riding, although Frazer was by far the more experienced of the two. In fact, they had first truly bonded when Frazer took Amazon riding back on the Hunt farm on Long Island.

Amazon chose a grey mare and Frazer a rather grumpy chestnut stallion, and soon they were saddled up and trotting along the dirt trails that wound up through the dense tropical forest.