A wave of grief and regret so huge it takes my breath away washes over me. I should have done more. I should have forced Daisy to listen to me. But I never dreamed this would happen. I thought we’d go back to the UK, separately, and Al would try to save our friendship; she’d force us to talk about what happened at Ekanta Yatra. We wouldn’t go back to the friendship we’d once had, we could never do that, but we’d put it behind us and move on with our lives. Daisy didn’t deserve to die. She never deserved that.

I grip Al’s arm. “Johan!”

Without waiting for a reply, I climb the bank towards him, small stones flying as I scrabble on my hands and feet. Al follows me, panting and wheezing.

“Johan?” I crouch down beside his slumped body. His eyes are closed, his head resting on his outstretched arm, his fingers unfurled. A line of saliva winds its way down his chin from the corner of his parted lips. “Johan, open your eyes.”

Al gently wraps her fingers around his wrist but he doesn’t so much as twitch.

“Johan?” I say again. “Can you hear me? It’s Emma and Al. Open your eyes.”

Al shakes her head and lets go of his wrist.

“Open your eyes, Johan!” I press a hand to the side of his face and gently tap him. His skin is rough with stubble under my fingertips. “Johan, wake up.”

“Emma!” Al says.

“Johan, wake up!”

“Emma! He’s dead.”

“No.” I push her away. “No. No. He can’t be. No. Johan! Come on. Come on, wake up.”

“Emma, stop it!” She clamps a hand over my mouth and half drags, half wrestles me away from him. “You need to be quiet! There are still people looking for us. I just heard voices from the steps. We need to get out of here.”

I shake my head stiffly under the weight of her hand.

“What?” She peels her hand from my mouth, her voice little more than a whisper. “What is it?”

“We can’t leave him here. He wanted to go back to Sweden. We’ve got to find a way of getting him back down the mountain.”

“He’s too heavy.”

“Then we hide him. We drag him into the undergrowth and we hide him until we can get help.”

Al looks at Johan and then at the bushes. She’s still wheezing heavily and coughing every couple of seconds.

“It’s okay,” I say. “I’ll do it. You catch your breath.”

“No.” She stands up and takes one of Johan’s arms. “I can do this.”