“We’re going back to Pokhara,” I say. “Come with us, Daisy. I know you hate me but you need to listen. Ekanta Yatra’s more dangerous than you realise. So’s Isaac. Please, you need to trust me. You need to—”

“I don’t need to do anything.” Her eyes fly open and she squints at me. “Trust you? Ha! You’re a psychopath, Emma.” She shouts the word so loudly it seems to ring in the air. “You said you wanted to kill me.”

“I didn’t mean it.”

“Really? Because you sounded pretty bloody convincing to me.”

I catch Johan’s eye as Daisy continues to rant. He flashes a look towards Isaac. He’s off his guard; the knife is still in his hand but it’s hanging loosely by his side as he listens to what Daisy is saying. Johan looks from Isaac to Daisy, then at me. His gaze flicks back and forth between us and I know instantly what he wants me to do.

“Do you know what Isaac called you?” I say, interrupting Daisy’s rant.

“What?”

“After I slept with him, do you know what he called you?”

Isaac snorts with amusement and wipes the back of one hand over his brow.

Daisy’s mouth twists into a bitter grin. “How about you enlighten me, Emma?”

“He said you were cheap and that women like you are ten-a-penny. That’s why he let Johan sleep with you in the massage hut. He lets the other men sleep with the sluts.”

Daisy looks incredulous for a moment, and then her eyes narrow. “You fucking bitch!”

I topple sideways into Al as Daisy launches herself at me. Her nails slide down the side of my face and she yanks at my hair as we fall, a tangle of hair, limbs and clothes. We hit the ground with a jolt, then, before I can take a breath, we’re off, slipping down the slope at speed, hurtling towards the drop. I grab at rocks, tree roots and branches as the air whistles past me. There’s a blur of movement up by the clearing where Isaac and Johan were standing, raised voices, an anguished shout, and then something tumbles past us and disappears off the edge of the cliff. And then we stop.

Daisy jumps to her feet first. She scrabbles away from the cliff edge and grabs at something lying on the ground a metre away. It’s Isaac’s knife.

“Get up!” she screams. “Get up!”

I tentatively raise myself onto my hands and knees, the drop just inches to my left, and slowly stand up. Al does the same. Behind her, lying on his side near the clearing, his eyes half-closed, is Johan. Even in the gloom I can see the gaping wound in his shoulder and the dark bloody stain pooled around him.

“Daisy.” I take a tentative step forwards. “Johan’s hurt.”