The party of eight had left the rangers’ offices for Heuningbos Hut shortly after ten that morning, trudging up a gravel track onto the mountainside for a few kilometres before following the path into a forest with towering trees and a disorderly understory. From there, the trail cut across large sections of mountain fynbos with plants Clare’s father, Geoffrey, had taught her to identify years ago: ericas, restios, protea, daisies, legumes and vygies. The group had trekked through a marshy valley, crossed two rivers and finally climbed a steep hill to Heuningbos Hut. It was, said the information provided, the least strenuous day of the six-day hike and they’d arrived at their accommodation for the night just before the sun slid behind the trees.

“Peaceful, isn’t it?”

Clare turned to see Faye looking up at her from the bottom of the stairs. Her dark hair, which had been flecked with grey and cropped in the same short style for as long as Clare remembered, was wet. She’d combed the fringe back, accentuating her heavy eyebrows and lashes, and the deep blue of her eyes.

Geoffrey liked to say that he and Clare’s mother, Michelle, had been friends with Faye Mackenzie and her husband, Derek, and the other two couples in the group “since pa fell off the ox-wagon.” Michelle, Diane and Derek were at school together and met Geoffrey, Bruce and Helen at university. Bev was the most recent recruit and she’d been with Helen since Clare was a baby. The couples and their children had holidayed and partied together like family. Even so, it felt strange to Clare to be alone with one of the older generation.

“It is,” she said, looking over the trees.

“Everything all right?”

Clare felt a prick of annoyance. “Yes. Thanks. And you?”

“Well, I’m looking forward to a good sleep.” Faye laughed quietly. “Tomorrow’s going to be a long one.”

“I believe so,” said Clare.

“Lucky you could come at such short notice.”

“Yes.”

“Your mom must’ve been so disappointed.”

“She was.”

“She and Diane have been trying to organise this trip for years.”

Clare got to her feet. “Yes. Well, I’m going to get ready for bed, too. See you in the morning. Sleep well,” she said, passing the older woman and making her way to the cabin.

Was her mother, a high court judge, upset about having to miss the hike when one of her cases was prolonged at the last minute? It seemed to Clare that work would always come first for Michelle. If anyone was disappointed it was her father, Geoffrey.

“Surely you can get a delay? I mean, really? We’ve been planning to do this together for years, decades even. All the organisation that’s gone into it…” he’d said when Michelle delivered the news.