By now he was trembling himself from the strain of his crouched position. He was relieved enough to have found her, to be with her, that he began to feel silly, hidden there behind a boulder. He shifted his weight and sent a scattering of pebbles down to the stream. Constance glared at him for such an error which might give them away. So she at least knew that they were hiding together and he was no more than her clumsy accomplice.

‘This is silly,’ David said gently. ‘Diana doesn’t even know we’re playing hide-and-seek. Come on. We need to find her.’

David stood up, careful not to get between Constance and the sun, hot now as it reached towards noon. He held out a hand to her and waited. She offered hers to him, and he nearly lifted her to her feet. He let her stand a moment, and then they began to edge back around the boulder. Just as he was about to urge her on to the path, he heard steady footsteps coming down towards them. Constance tried to draw away from him, but he did not let her. Instead he stepped back into the shadow of the rock and waited.

Two rangers with a stretcher passed within five feet without noticing them. On the stretcher was the man who had hurried up the path with David, looking for Constance. David could not tell, in that brief glimpse of him, whether he was still alive.

‘Come on,’ he said to Constance, his tone almost harsh.

She obeyed him meekly. Though it was awkward, he held her hand firmly all the way down. David saw Diana, sitting on the shady side of the car with all the windows and doors open.

‘Diana!’ he shouted. ‘Here she is!’

Constance smiled at her. It was as if nothing had happened. David looked down at Constance and realized that for her nothing had. Diana knew that, and she let no shadow of concern play over her greeting face.

The sister and brother sat in the dark out on the porch. Only now was there an opportunity for David to tell Diana what had happened.

‘Has she ever looked at you like that?’ David asked. ‘As if you were the hawk?’

‘Yes,’ Diana answered, ‘when I dug her out of the rubble.’

Where had David heard of a tribe of people who wouldn’t come to each other’s rescue because to save a person’s life was to be responsible for that person from that time onwards? He felt himself a new sense of requirement, as if, having persuaded Constance that there was nothing to be frightened of, he was obligated to prove it.

‘We do prey on her,’ Diana said. ‘That’s the pity of it.’

‘You mustn’t begin to think in her terms,’ David protested.