We were in a small clearing not too far from a shallow stream, and I wandered down to wash my face. At the water’s edge, I saw a petite dik-dik antelope drinking further up. I crouched down quietly to watch, but my presence must have disturbed it. It raised its head, nostrils quivering, and gave the cry of alarm it was named after, then was gone in a flash of grey-brown and tan.

I splashed some water on myself and headed back. Trees grew thickly around the spot we’d chosen to camp, their bark dark grey and cracked with age. Birds perched high up in the branches, chirping to each other, and creamy, sweet-smelling flowers fell at my feet when they took flight.

The remaining totos were preparing supper. I sat in a canvas chair outside my tent, and they brought me a Fortnum & Mason chop box full of cheese and biscuits, mustard, tea, cold sausage, grapes, apples, wine and chocolates. I collected the grape seeds in my hand as I ate, then dug a hole on the edge of the clearing and buried them.

‘Gardening?’ Sylvie called to me when she emerged from her tent.

‘Getting rid of the evidence,’ I said.

‘We brought the record player. Shall we have some music?’

‘Alright.’

She knelt down in front of one of the boxes outside her tent and started riffling through it. I joined her.

‘What do you fancy?’

‘Anything you like.’

She picked one out and slipped it out of its paper jacket, showing it to me. ‘Rupert got me this,’ she said. ‘I told him Cole Porter was my favourite and a week later he turned up with it.’ She bit her lip. ‘I know he can’t afford to give me presents. His family are so strict with his money.’

‘Hmm.’ I didn’t want us to talk about Rupert. I dared myself to move closer, rub my arm against hers. She started, as if she’d forgotten where she was, who I was, then smiled quickly.

‘Let’s put this on,’ she said, and got up.

No one bagged anything that day, but they found elephant spoor a few miles from the camp.

‘We’ll get them tomorrow,’ Rupert said as we sat around the fire after supper, sipping whisky.

The night was clear too, and the stars to the east were glittering in a friendly way. Occasionally the fire hissed and shot long sparks into the air. Outside our circle, we could hear the totos moving about, washing up the dinner things, speaking softly to each other.

‘I want to die on a night like this,’ Sylvie said. ‘Surrounded by my favourite people, good food, a glass of whisky.’

‘Better to think about living,’ Nicolas said. ‘We can’t control our deaths.’

‘There’s one way to control it,’ Rupert said.

‘Don’t joke about that.’