“I wonder if my father and the others will be able to go on?”

“I’m guessing but, if this,” Faye tilted her empty mug towards the water, “which was a trickle two days ago, is anything to go by, they’ll be stranded for a while, too.”

“Stranded?”

“It’ll be okay. The water will subside in a day. Maybe two. We’ll be collected and reunited soon enough.”

“So we wait?”

“I don’t think there’s an alternative. Do you?”

Clare shook her head and turned towards the path. “I’m going to walk for a bit.”

“Where?”

“That’s the route you took yesterday, right?”

“It is.”

“Perhaps I’ll see the pigs,” she said.

Faye chuckled. “Okay. I’ll wait in the lapa in the unlikely event the rangers do make it. Will you . . . erm . . . go far?”

“Do you think it’s possible to see the Bloukrans from the top of the ravine? To gauge how full it is?”

“Maybe, but that’s quite a hike,” said Faye looking pointedly at the sky.

Clare handed her the empty mug. “I’ll turn around if it starts raining again.”

She did want to see the wild pigs. She was also curious about how full the river was. But that wasn’t really why Clare wanted to walk; she was anxious to exercise.

For a while, she’d tried to convince herself it was okay because she’d done nothing the previous day, but the truth gnawed at her. She had to work off supper. The pasta swimming in cream, cheese and cacciatore! My God! What was she thinking? And the wine? Almost a mugful! That was around three hundred calories.

Clare glanced over her shoulder. Faye was out of sight. She began running.

The hill was steep and her hiking boots heavy. Despite the clouds, she was soon hot. Clare couldn’t remember the last time she sweated while exercising; that bodily function, she’d discovered, was reserved for the night-time horrors of an anorexic. She wasn’t perspiring as she jogged up the path. Even so, she was warm enough to stop and, while running on the spot, she removed her rain jacket and tied it around her waist.

By the time she reached the top, Clare had run for more than half an hour. Her feet ached from the unfamiliar motion of the boots and, worried she might develop blisters, she slowed to a fast walk. The expanse of veld, flat and open, made breathing seem easier. It was windless and, with the clouds so low, the vegetation seemed to be waiting for something to happen. Stepping around the bigger puddles that dotted the trail, she decided to continue for another half hour before turning back. That would give her an hour’s proper workout, plus however long it would take to return to Heuningbos.