‘I’ll take care of her,’ he said.

‘Good man, Tobias, mate,’ the pilot said, giving him a week’s supply of newspapers.

‘My paper service,’ Tobias said, and the men slapped each other on the arm.

‘So long, then,’ the pilot said. He looked up at the sky, checked the clouds, and then, as if an afterthought, turned back to Rika. ‘He’s a good bloke, Tobias.’

When the plane took off, Rika and the medical orderly were left standing with boxes of supplies at their feet. The schoolchildren were watching them, a few teenage boys hanging back. Rika felt as if she’d let herself get stranded just over the edge of the known world.

‘Your husband is at the villages up on the mountain,’ Tobias said. ‘We can send a message up to him.’

‘I’d rather surprise him,’ Rika said.

‘There are no surprises in this place. He’ll know you’re here long before you get there.’

The teenage boys were coming shyly towards them on soft bare feet and in tattered shorts. They were slender, with fine features and solemn eyes. ‘These are the boys down from the mountain to meet the plane,’ he said, sorting the boxes marked for Leonard. ‘This is the wife of Leonard,’ he said and the boys shook their heads. ‘Too good, too good!’ the tallest of them said as Tobias rattled off their names. Obi. Albert. Jefferson. ‘He waits for you every week.’

‘How far away is he?’ Rika asked.

‘Long way.’ The tall boy pointed towards the high peak of the volcano. ‘Huvaemo.’

‘Plenty far,’ said another.

‘They’re right,’ Tobias said. ‘It is a long way. Six hours, for you maybe seven. They can do it in four. You must stay here tonight. They’ll take you up in the morning.’

‘Oh,’ she said. This was not what she’d anticipated.

‘Okay, boys, you can stay? Stay in the schoolhouse, yes?’ Tobias was loading them with boxes marked for Leonard.

‘With Hunter,’ the tallest boy, Obi, said.

‘You take him back with you tomorrow,’ Tobias said.

‘He don’t want to come,’ Obi said.

‘No good he stay here.’

When Tobias had sorted the supplies for the school and the aid post, he took Rika along the path to the village, past a large church up on stilts like the houses, with painted crosses along the side and JESUS in large, shiny blue letters.

‘That’s new?’ she asked.

‘A few years now.’

After the newness of the church, the houses that straggled on either side of a wide, bare path looked dilapidated. Women carrying firewood on their heads lowered their brows and didn’t let Rika catch their eyes. Her camera was in her string bag, untouched. Men in small groups nodded as Tobias greeted them, or melted away, leaving only the dogs to watch them pass.

At the aid post a young boy-man was sitting on the ground outside the door. His bare knees were drawn up, his head hung down. When he looked up, Rika could see the shadow of a first moustache on his upper lip.