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ask. ‘Would you like to hold her?’
    Beck got to feed her first so that Peter could take pictures. He couldn’t help comparing her to baby Hannah back at the hotel. They were about the same size and weight – which meant surprisingly heavy – but Hannah wasn’t a solid lump of muscle covered in soft, silky hair. Holding Ayesha was like holding a solid rubber ball. The first time Beck was given Hannah he had been terrified of hurting her. If he accidentally dropped Ayesha he was sure she would bounce straight back up again.
    Hannah could wrap five fingers around one of Beck’s; Ayesha’s hand was large enough to engulf his own. Hannah smelled of baby lotion, but Ayesha had a pleasantly warm, musky animal odour, like a well-groomed cat. Again Beck looked into an orang-utan’s eyes, and this time there was no doubting her expression. That same world-weary sadness mixed with one hundred per cent trust. You’ll look after me, won’t you? You’ll make sure I’m all right.
    â€˜Course I will,’ he whispered. ‘Course I will . . .’
    â€˜You in here, boys?’ Mr Grey poked his head round the door. ‘The bus leaves in five— Ah, you’ve made a friend!’
    â€˜We’ve got to leave?’ Peter sounded sad. ‘We’re only just starting . . .’
    Nakula’s face was once again blank and impassive, like when he had been talking to the loud tourist. Beck guessed that meant I disagree with you profoundly but it is my job to be polite to you and so I will be . In their short time in the hut, they had seen a very different side to Nakula. He was a man who loved the orang-utans, and he had sensed similar feelings in Beck and Peter. He’d enjoyed passing on what he knew. Suddenly he was back to his dour old self.
    â€˜Well, there are the ruins to look at—’ Mr Grey pointed out.
    â€˜Very old ruins?’ Beck asked.
    â€˜Oh, yes, a thousand years or more . . .’
    â€˜So it’s not like they’re going anywhere, is it?’ Peter interrupted with a grin.
    â€˜No,’ Mr Grey said patiently, ‘but we are, in five minutes.’
    â€˜You are returning to Medan, sir?’ Nakula asked unexpectedly.
    â€˜Well, yes, after the ruins. Why?’
    â€˜Oh . . .’ Nakula shrugged. His voice had the kind of casual tone you only hear when someone has a definite plan. ‘I drive there this evening. I am very happy to look after your boys and bring them back then. You see’ – he indicated to Ayesha, who was still playing with her bottle in Beck’s arms – ‘once a baby has started feeding it is hard to interrupt.’ The little orang-utan’s teeth gripped the bottle tightly and sucked frantically.
    â€˜You can say that again!’ said Beck, laughing.
    â€˜That’s certainly true,’ Peter’s dad muttered, thinking of Hannah’s howls if she was deprived of her bottle. ‘That would be kind of you.’ And to the boys: ‘Am I maybe detecting that thousand-year-old classical ruins aren’t totally your thing?’
    â€˜Compared to a brand-new baby orang-utan . . . ?’ Peter said thoughtfully. ‘Not really.’
    Mr Grey sighed. He looked at the boys, looked at Ayesha, looked at Nakula, looked at his watch. Finally he seemed to accept that this was one battle he couldn’t win.
    â€˜I guess it’s a wonderful chance to see this sort of work – but behave yourselves, OK?’ he told the boys.
    â€˜You got it,’ they replied excitedly.
    Then to Nakula:
    â€˜So, what time can we expect you this evening . . . ?’

CHAPTER THREE
    â€˜What happened to Ayesha’s mother?’ Beck shouted over the noise of the engine. He clutched at the open-topped jeep’s roll bar as it lurched out of a particularly deep rut on the jungle road. The boys sat in the back,