Caleb’s guilt, Xander’s injury, none of it mattered, set against Innocent’s death, and even that was somehow already history, thrown into relief by the horror of Patience’s grief. She’d been so calm throughout the trip, gliding effortlessly through the jungle as we struggled to keep up. Now she was a jittery, distraught mess. Amelia tried to comfort her but Patience shrugged her off and wandered away and slumped to her knees. Then she stretched herself out flat on the earth next to her father’s body, face down, moaning. I couldn’t understand what she was saying, but she seemed to be begging the ground to swallow her up.

Marcel radioed base camp. Amelia summed up the conversation: he’d called for more men to retrieve Innocent’s body, it being impossible for us to carry it back to camp as well as poor Xander. Marcel now covered the body with a foil blanket from the first-aid kit and attempted to lever Patience from the ground beside it. She wouldn’t come. Though she was only a skinny ten-year-old girl, Marcel couldn’t prise her away from her dead father. The thought of leaving her there alone was unbearable, but Xander needed medical attention. Marcel pleaded with Patience to come with us. So did Amelia. But she refused. She wanted to guard her father’s body until the rangers arrived. The three of us stood together with her for a moment beside the covered form. I was mesmerised by the sight of the foil glittering in the gloom. Marcel took hold of poor Patience, hugged her wordlessly and kissed her forehead. My throat was a knot watching him. Once he’d finished this silent act of consolation and moved away I laid Innocent’s machete, which I’d used to cut the branches for the stretcher, on the blood-soaked earth beside him. If and when the pathologist examined the body he might conclude Innocent was cut by his own knife when the gorilla charged. Why I wanted to protect Caleb in this way I cannot say.