It’s the morning after Al announced she wanted to leave, and we’ve been picking our way down the mountain for over an hour. Progress is slow. Johan wasn’t kidding about the downpour. The ground on either side of the steps is a muddy swamp, and the trees are bent low and dripping rainwater. My waterproof, which the camping shop salesman told me could withstand the heaviest of downpours, is stuck to my arms and clinging to my body. My shorts are hanging limply from my hips and my socks, poking out the top of my hiking boots, are sodden.

It wasn’t raining when we stepped out through the gates of Ekanta Yatra. We had all of ten minutes of clear skies before the heavens opened again. Daisy came to the gates to wave us off, but Leanne stayed indoors. Officially, she was helping Raj prepare the lunch, but we all knew she was sulking. Her attempt to talk Al into staying didn’t end the moment we left the orchard; when she and Daisy finally returned from their private conversation amongst the mango trees, she continued to badger and cajole Al late into the night. Neither of us has had more than four hours sleep.

“Oh, God.”

Al stares at me. “What?”

“I’ve just realised we’ve left our passports behind. They’re still in Isaac’s study.”

“Doesn’t matter. Leanne and Daisy will grab them when they leave.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, ’course. Leanne will remember. She’s organised like that.”

“Is she? She forgot to book the Chitwan trip. Don’t you think it’s weird that she remembered everything else – everything from mosquito spray to the coach to Pokhara to a guide to bring us up here, and yet she forgot that?”

“No.” Al shakes her head. “She said she just wanted to play things by ear.”

“But she’s packed enough clothes to come on three holidays.”

“What are you saying?” Al runs a hand over her face. Rain is dripping off her eyelashes.

“I don’t think she wants to go back. You saw the way she reacted when we left. She was almost in tears.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

“I’m not! Have you ever seen her as happy as she’s been recently?”

“That’s because she’s on holiday.”

“So am I, so are you, so’s Daisy, and we haven’t been skipping around, borrowing clothes from Cera and Isis and joining in with absolutely everything. You know Leanne; her default setting is sarcasm.”

Al shrugs. “I think you’re reading too much into it, Emma. Leanne’s a hippy at heart, and Ekanta Yatra’s a hippy paradise, and that’s all there is to it.” She reaches into her pocket and pulls out her inhaler. She puffs on it.

“You okay, Al?”

“I think it’s the altitude. My asthma’s been playing up since we got here.”