Diane’s reaction to his claim about Clare made him believe that Michelle had confided in her about their affair and the girl’s paternity. Why would Diane be so angry by his disclosure if it wasn’t true? Her coldness towards him, followed by her rummaging in his bag for the whiskey the next day and her threat were further evidence of this. Diane, Derek believed, had been sworn to secrecy by Mich and was determined to protect her friend. He was excited by the idea of the three of them being tied together by the secret.

“The Three Musketeers,” his mother had once tagged them. “All for one and one for all.”

Derek wished he had insisted that Geoffrey go with the others when they left Grootkloof to find help. There had been no reason for him to stay, and his hovering annoyed Derek. Spaced-out on painkillers and whiskey, he had bristled every time Geoffrey poked his red-capped head around the door, found Derek awake and felt compelled to engage in inane conversation. Derek wanted to be left alone with his blurry thoughts.

Having somewhat tipped his hand by telling Diane about Clare, Derek’s mind oscillated between two possible extreme outcomes. The appealing one was that Michelle would finally acknowledge their destiny—to be together. The other outcome was that Derek had taken a final step into lunacy and would be cast into the wilderness by his friends, including Michelle. He tried to assure himself he was willing to chance the latter because of the lure of the former.

On the second morning, after Geoffrey had enquired about his health (wasn’t it obvious he was in agony?), offered his wishy-washy opinion about whether or not they would be rescued that day and finally wandered off towards the river, Derek washed down the last of the painkillers (three worked better than two) with the remains of the whiskey. He stood on the deck of cabin, staring at the cold grey mountains as he waited for the pain to subside and the buzz to begin. When it kicked in, he found himself hobbling down the track towards the river.

Mismatched and messy, the trees on either side of the roadway seemed at odds with one another. What had once been a pine plantation had been invaded by indigenous plants. The spindly conifers that remained looked like gawky teens at a toddler’s birthday party—out of place and desperate to be among their own. While the native vegetation was largely confined to the understory of the forest, it was dense and robust. The ungainly teens, thought Derek, would soon be consumed by the hungry toddlers.