In the early days of the business, Basson’s clients were equally disbelieving when they spotted a baby seat, which, at first glance, appeared to have been forsaken in the shade in their gardens. They’d crane their necks, creep closer and discover that it contained pink-faced Clare, drooling as she slept. When they lifted their heads to look around, Geoffrey, mowing, digging or clipping in the vicinity, would smile and wave indifferently, as if caring for babies was something all nurserymen did. With Michelle back at work a few weeks after giving birth, Geoffrey took care of the baby during the day. Clare slept through the screeching of chainsaws, clattering of lawn mowers and thrashing of weedeaters. She lolled in the sweaty crook of her father’s arm as he sat sideways on the bakkie seat, legs stretched out in front of him, and bottle-fed her. She took her first steps into the arms of Geoffrey’s right-hand man, Vincent, in the muddiest section of Mrs Vermeulen’s bed of Angel Face Floribunda roses, and her first word was “mulch.”

Clare. His adored firstborn.

Geoffrey glanced over his shoulder to check that he and Derek weren’t too far ahead of the others. Helen and Bev rounded the corner, closely followed by Bruce. Diane and Faye, together at the back, no doubt, were nowhere to be seen. He walked on, unable to stop thinking about Clare. His stomach churned like it used to when, still a boy, he’d wait to run onto the rugby field for a game. Now though, it was all anxiety and no anticipation.

He hoped that his daughter’s nausea would have passed by now, allowing her to sleep soundly. He thought again about how he’d tried to persuade her that he should stay at the cabin with her, but Clare insisted he go. She didn’t want to be fussed over under any circumstances and was adamant her headache should not upset the others’ plans. Even after Bruce and Derek had assured him that leaving her to be collected by the rangers was not only acceptable, but advisable, Geoffrey briefly considered pretending to leave, but actually lying low in the lapa until his daughter awoke. He knew, however, how that would infuriate her. She wasn’t a child. He had to respect her wishes. Stop watching her. Trust her. It was the only way of getting things back to what they had been between them.

Geoffrey thought of Michelle’s words when they first saw how bad things were. He’d pleaded with his wife to help him persuade Clare not to go back to university.

“We can’t force her, Geoffrey. She’s an adult. I know she’s ill, but if we don’t allow her to make her own decisions, she’ll push us away. We have to support her by giving her space.”