Free Fishing for Stars by Bryce Courtenay

her addiction, ‘Besides, heroin is expensive.’
    ‘But aren’t you afraid of getting caught? Isn’t what you’re doing illegal?’ I’d asked.
    Anna had laughed. ‘Nicholas, if you ever have a problem with the law you must let me know. I can rope in at least two judges, half a dozen magistrates, a well-respected clergyman and God knows how many prominent lawyers and politicians, while a high-ranking police officer’s wife owns a share and several other officers are regular recipients of a brown envelope.’ She’d grinned mischievously. ‘So you can see, my profession ties up all the right people.’
    During this time in Melbourne we had discussed her addiction and she’d admitted that she would like to give up –  become clean is the expression – but claimed she had attempted to do so in the past and had always succumbed to the drug. At the time I was unaware of Anna’s formidable will, but as I grew to know her I realised how powerful the addiction must be to have so completely mastered her. I rather naïvely took her at her word and immediately set about learning all there was to know about withdrawal from heroin.
    My advice was that if , and only if , the addict wishes sincerely to kick the habit, it would take a period of up to three weeks for the acute craving to subside and then another unknown period to overcome the psychological addiction, although another three weeks would probably be sufficient. Six weeks in all. It was also highly desirable for the addict to be away from her normal environment and her usual supplier. It was explained to me that heroin addiction has a psychological component that is very difficult to overcome: the addict believes implicitly that after one more hit they will be able to give up permanently. This conviction is unshakeable and overrides both willpower and logic. This is why it is important for the addict to be away from their normal environment and out of reach of any regular substance supplier.
    Anna finally agreed to come to Port Vila and attempt to get clean, although she stipulated that she could be away for no more than two weeks. My advice was that this would not be sufficient time to kick the habit and so I hatched a plan to kidnap her and to sail around the islands for six weeks, by which time she would likely be clean and sufficiently grateful to forgive me for taking her prisoner.
    She arrived on the noon plane from Brisbane, having first flown up from Melbourne. I was delighted to see her, fearing she might have changed her mind. I’d been warned that this was likely and could occur even when she was on her way to the plane. As I drove her from the airport Anna had only just thanked me for inviting her to Beautiful Bay when she produced a small box tied with white ribbon from her handbag. ‘Inside are eighty persimmon seeds. I have no suitable land in Melbourne. Will you help me to find a place to sow the seeds? Only five seeds now, because I am five years behind. Then, even if I am not here, you must sow one seed each year on my birthday.’ She turned and gave me a stern look. ‘You must promise me, Nicholas.’
    I smiled, taking the box and placing it in the pocket of my khaki shirt as I drove. ‘I promise, Anna, but why persimmon seeds?’
    ‘I will tell you some day, not now,’ she answered quietly.
    After a light lunch at home I suggested Anna take an afternoon nap to recover from the eight-hour flight beginning early that morning in Melbourne. Then I proposed an evening sail, a picnic at sea on Madam Butterfly . The yacht had once belonged to her father, who had suggested I sail it from Java to Australia in 1943 to escape the Japanese, otherwise he would have been forced to leave it behind when he and his family fled the country. There was a tacit arrangement that it would be ours, Anna’s and mine, when we were reunited in Australia.
    Anna was thrilled at the prospect of seeing the beautiful cutter she had sailed in her childhood and which