Chapters (39)
- Cover
- Title
- Author’s Note
- Glossary
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Acknowledgments
Faye returned wearing trousers and a sweatshirt.
“I was one of the lucky ones,” she said.
Clare was silent.
“I don’t want to be a worry-wart, but if this rain doesn’t let up soon, I wonder if the rangers will reach us,” continued Faye.
Clare gestured towards the four utility boxes and three cooler boxes lined up along the far wall. “What about these?” she said. “If they can’t get to us, will the rangers be able to get some other supplies to my father and the others?”
“I don’t know. I hope they’ve crossed the river by now.”
“The others?”
“Yes.”
They were quiet as Clare made coffee. Faye added wood to the fire. It had grown cool and the women stood close to the coals as they drank. Clare wondered why her father hadn’t persuaded Faye not to return to Heuningbos.
“I’m going to eat my lunch,” said Faye, putting her coffee down and digging in her backpack. “Would you like a sandwich?”
“No,” said Clare. “Thanks.”
The other woman tipped her head towards the boxes. “There are some rusks in our box. Would you like one of those?”
“No!” She hadn’t meant to speak so loudly. She took a deep breath and said, quieter now, “I don’t want anything to eat, thank you.”
Faye unwrapped her sandwich, eyes down.
Clare rubbed her forehead. She should be used to people forcing food on her by now. They couldn’t help themselves. Or perhaps they didn’t realise they were doing it. Would Faye have offered to share her lunch if Clare was someone else? Probably. She was a kind woman. But sometimes Clare wondered if people felt challenged by her resistance and wanted to be the ones who broke through to her. She glanced at Faye, now chewing quietly as she stared out into the rain. She didn’t look like a woman who wanted to prove anything to anyone. Clare was embarrassed by her own behaviour.
“It’s just that . . . sorry. I don’t feel that well after all. I think I’m going to go and lie down again.”
She held her mug under the water pouring off the roof, rinsed it and put it in her father’s box of supplies before pulling on her jacket.
“See you later,” said Faye, as Clare trotted down the stairs.