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And if that didn’t suffice, we now knew that he was a wanted criminal as well.

But what had he wanted from us? Why had he bothered making up a cock-and-bull story about a Nazi uncle? Why had he lied about the ranch and the truck? What had been the point of it all? It hadn’t been for money: he spent more than we paid him. We hoped that we would be able to get some answers once we were back in La Paz.

Afterward we grew silent, each lost in his own thoughts under our mosquito netting. Kevin dozed off, but every hour or two I would startle him out of his sleep, screaming, ‘Hurry, Kevin, fast!’

He knew the problem without being told and leapt up, heaved me over his shoulder, and ran for the bathroom. The enormous amounts of food that I had consumed had upset my digestive system, and I had a terrible case of diarrhoea.

The weather the next day was terrible, and we knew that there would be no plane, but I wasn’t disappointed. It was probably the happiest day of my life. I felt like I was in paradise: the town, the people, the general atmosphere, the lousy weather – just being alive.

I spent the morning sitting with Kevin in the hotel coffee shop. People came from all over town to see us. They had heard about us and came to offer us their best wishes and enjoy the happy ending to our story. Each one brought some small