Sarah looked at the ridge, touched that Piet had shared this secret place with her, aware of his nearness as she leaned in to follow the direction of his arm. He looked down at her, smiling, then turned round.

‘Simon, bring us a beer from the icebox, will you? Then you could put out the picnic. Come and sit here, Sarah, where it’s cool. I don’t want you getting too much sun.’

After lunch they lay back in the reclining chairs, sipping coffee in the shade provided by the thatch. Sarah was tired after the long ride and she closed her eyes, making no attempt to fight off the heavy sensation of sleep that had taken hold of her body. When she awoke, a family of warthogs had come to drink at the waterhole, and she could hear rustling in the trees that overhung the rocks on the far side. From the pool itself, a small stream trickled away down the hillside to lose itself in the dense bush further down. She saw that its course could be plotted by following the winding ribbon of green that marched beside its banks. Far in the distance, the sharp teeth of Kirinyaga snapped at the sky. She glanced across at Piet, and smiled. He was fast asleep, his head tilted to one side, his mouth a little open, hands relaxed and dangling over the arms of the chair. She was tempted to reach out and touch his fingers, smooth the crease lines on his forehead, run her fingers over the cleft of his chin and on to his mouth. Instead she rose quietly, took her camera and walked over to the edge of the platform to photograph the ridge that was Piet’s special place. But a sudden chill settled on her, and she felt an inexplicable unease. It was like Gedi, she thought. That was what had bothered her earlier. A sense of brooding. Of being watched. Of course you’re being watched, you idiot, she said to herself. There’s a whole colony of birds and animals surrounding you, observing your every move. But the hair on the back of her neck began to prickle, and she was inexplicably afraid. All around her she could feel menace and she wanted to cry out, but she seemed to be frozen. Then a hand came down hard on her shoulder and she screamed and cowered low, clinging to the wooden railings of the balcony.

‘Jesus, Sarah, what’s the matter?’ Piet leapt from his chair and ran to her side. She was trembling as he helped her up and led her back to the place where they had been sitting. ‘What happened?’

‘I don’t know, Piet. I’m sorry. I was standing there, looking out, and suddenly . . .’ She glanced at him, anxious. ‘Did you put your hand on my shoulder? When I was over at the edge of the platform?’