There were benefits to walking fast, thought Geoffrey as he followed Derek on the single-track through the trees. It involved more puffing and less chatting. He knew his friends meant well, but he’d had enough of their questions about Clare. He was unsettled enough by letting her convince him to leave her at Heuningbos, and didn’t need their prompting.

“How long does she typically sleep?” Bruce had asked.

“Did she get migraines before she got so thin?” enquired Helen.

“Poor thing. Remember you went through a patch when we thought you were getting them, Hel?” said Bev. “Turned out they were hormonal, treatable. I’m sure she’s had that checked out, hasn’t she, Geoffrey?”

He shrugged, nodded, “Yes, yes,” and picked up his pace, grateful to Derek for striding ahead and creating distance between the hikers. The space helped magnify the intensity of the wilderness and Geoffrey took it in, frame by frame. The grassy burst of francolins startled by the thump of his boots. The sweet rose and citrus aroma of the pelargonium carried by a light breeze. The placid cooing of doves rendered invisible by the foliage. The dampening of his footsteps as the trail was enveloped by trees.

The energy and rhythm reminded Geoffrey of gardening and why he loved it. Clients were surprised to see him working shoulder to shoulder with his employees as they composted flower beds, trimmed branches, mowed lawns and dug trenches. They were more familiar with proprietors of such businesses doing little more than sunning their elbows as they piloted their bakkies around the suburbs. Typically, these men stayed seated, shouting instructions to their workers as they off-loaded equipment before driving away, and then cruising back when the work was done.

But that wasn’t why Geoffrey started Basson’s Garden Services. If his ambition had been to issue directives, he would have stayed with the bank. He liked the action and exercise of gardening almost as much as he enjoyed being outdoors all day and seeing his landscape plans take shape, his workers mastering new skills and the plants they sowed flourishing. Geoffrey thrived on the tangible nature of horticulture, the dirt, sweat and beauty of it. The haziness of financial services, where numbers were the only things that (sometimes) grew and clients were rarely more than names on statements, could not compare.