Hoping to distract herself from the discomfort, she tried to identify the sounds of the forest. She heard the thunking of raindrops falling from the leaves onto the wood and soil. The splats were overlaid by the chirruping of crickets and croaking of frogs. An owl called from way off. Clare wondered if it was the same owl she’d heard while sitting on the stairs at Heuningbos on the first night. She also made out the plaintive whue-whe-whe-whe-whe-whue of what she took to be a fiery-necked nightjar. She listened for other sounds, imagining footsteps when a branch cracked or leaves crunched. She pictured genets, caracal, wild pigs and honey badgers slinking hesitantly through the undergrowth as they detected the unfamiliar smell of humans in their territory. When the snapping and scrunching sounds were louder, she imagined the almond-shaped, yellow eyes and twitching, rounded ears of a leopard. Her heart sped up at the thought of the cat’s large, furry paws stealing closer to the shelter.

“Leopards might be the smallest of the big cat family, but they are the stealthiest and the most elusive,” said her grandmother, when she’d accompanied the family on a trip to the Kruger National Park.

Faye’s breathing was deep and rhythmic. Clare wondered if the older woman would have slept at all if she’d mentioned the leopard. She thought about their conversation and about how the darkness and their proximity had made talking easier. How ironic it was she’d insisted on being as far away as possible from her parents’ friends on the first night and yet now, compelled to lie within millimetres of Faye, she found solace. How kind the older woman had been. How eager to understand. She wondered what Faye might say if she knew the full extent of her shame and how she’d let it ruin the most important friendships she’d known.

Clare, Buhle and Maryanne met at playschool and were best friends throughout their school years. Buhle and Clare made formidable doubles partners on the tennis court. Buhle and Maryanne danced in the same hip-hop troupe. Maryanne and Clare were members of the school orchestra and all three sang in the choir. They spent weekends together, formed a study group, cried on one another’s shoulders and celebrated each other’s successes. Although their interests took them on different paths when they completed high school, the trio never imagined being anything other than best friends. Then Clare came back to town after her first year at university almost twenty-five kilograms lighter.