“That’s the old Selverton Church spire,” said the man, “from the drowned village.” He’d nodded and smiled, pleased to be able to pass on a bit of local knowledge. Then he’d gone on his way, leaving Lauren to wonder about what he’d said, about what remnants of village life had been preserved under the water, what else might be revealed should the drought go on much longer.

She’d stared at the tip of the spire, at what she could now see was a rusted weathervane, for long minutes before pushing on to where she’d parked the car, driving back home and feeling the first trickle of her own water seeping down her leg as she bent to unlace her boots at the door.

With the stroller it was different, but the ground felt the same beneath her feet. She had to go slowly, manoeuvring the three chunky wheels over the roots, awkwardly around narrow paths of packed mud she’d never noticed were narrow. The leafy canopy spread camouflage patterns onto the babies, flashing sunlight through the gaps so that she worried they might wake up. She stopped to drape a muslin square over the handle of each car seat, shading the sleeping boys, and then pushed on, filling her lungs again and again with delicious warm air. There was the slow return of a sense of freedom, for the first time in a month, her limbs loose and her head full of the wonderful natural perfume of water, rocks, soil. So familiar, so glorious, she was healed by it. The way summer trees smelled when they were heated by the sun.

Half a mile up the river path was the scrubby box of a cafe, and seated on the picnic benches outside on the veranda, Cindy and Rosa. There was a compact black stroller next to Rosa, and Cindy was wearing her baby in a bright purple wrap over her belly. They hugged each other, and Lauren settled the twins’ stroller in a shady spot before sitting down.

“How are you feeling?” said Cindy, directing a knowing look towards Lauren. “Less … stressed?”

Lauren laughed. “Yeah, I’m fine, thanks. I think everyone was right—I just needed to get out of the house. I should have done it sooner. It’s lovely here, isn’t it?”

“You look good,” said Rosa, “especially after having twins. What’s your secret?”

“Never have time to eat?” She remembered the banana in her handbag. It was probably crushed now, inedible. She thought of the pastries inside the cafe and her mouth began to water.

Rosa did the head-tilt in sympathy. “I know what it’s like with one, honey, you must be wrung out.”