Geoffrey had had enough, too. Not of the place. In other circumstances, a cabin built on the edge of the mountain with a forest stretching into forever out back, and the mountains standing watch in front would have been idyllic. Sharing the spot with an injured, curmudgeonly and half-sauced Derek, and the uncertainty of knowing where the others were however, soured the experience. Geoffrey had tried not let Derek’s complaining—primarily about his back pain, the weather, his wasted vacation time and how hungry he was—aggravate him the previous day. He had been grateful the injured man had spent most of it on his bed. Geoffrey had used the time to explore.

At some point over the past century or so, parts of the area had been planted with exotic trees, including pines and gums. More recently though, the indigenous vegetation had reclaimed its place in the earth, mingling with the alien plants to create a kind of hybrid jungle where the spikey European conifers were entangled with purple-flowered creepers and yellowwood saplings that struggled alongside the blue gums.

In other places, where they had been undisturbed for hundreds of years, giant trees grew gnarled and twisty amid groves of leafy ferns, lichen-covered rocks and mossy logs. There was something magical about the groves, something whimsical that reminded Geoffrey of the illustrations in one of his children’s favourite picture books about fairies and forest animals. He had sat on a rock in a particularly peaceful spot and looked intently at the scene, trying to imprint the arrangement of plants, textures and colours on his brain so he could recreate it back in the city. He wouldn’t have minded disappearing into the forest again, but it seemed Derek was stronger today.

“You’re feeling better then?” he asked.

Derek scowled and placed his hands on the small of his back. “Ja. Ja. I think so. I hope so. Thank God for Bev’s mobile pharmacy. Wouldn’t cope otherwise. Definitely couldn’t sleep without the drugs.”

Geoffrey glanced at him. It was almost midday. Derek had certainly managed to sleep. “Are you feeling up to walking to the river with me? I want to see whether it has subsided?”

“I’m probably up to it, but why bother? It’s not like it’s going to make any difference to us.”

Geoffrey gave a half shrug. “It’ll give us some idea whether we’ll see anyone today or if we’ll have to wait another day.”

“And then what? I mean, if we have to stay? Are you going to try and convince me to eat dodgy-looking mushrooms again?”

“Something like that.”