Kruger National Park, South Africa, three years ago

“Eye-snot, eye-snot! You have eye-snot!”

‘Tommy?’ Janine mumbled; she thought she had heard her Sunday school friend’s voice. A fuzzy feeling came over her: My soul’s half-trapped in a dream-pool, and slowly being reeled in back into ‘the real world’.

Her eyelids felt like two metal shells stuck to the magnet that was her eyeball. She groaned, and through a haze that was a mixture of sleep (“Eye-snot, eye-snot! You have eye-snot!”) and that thin barrier between reality and the subconscious, Janine felt the sun piercing her skin like a thousand African spears. She pushed herself up, and, not for the first time in her life, couldn’t figure out where she’d been sleeping.

Janine was lying on her back, and through the shadow-flutter of the mosquito net overhead, she noticed an intricate design of dark wood roof beams stretching from wall to wall like the ancient, crystallized spider webs of some giant arachnid: Oh, God, I’m trapped in the spider’s den, and it has already had a little taste of me. Janine’s left shoulder was throbbing; she turned her head and stared down at the pierced bruise on her left shoulder.

She turned her head away, and pushed herself up by leaning on her right elbow. Janine was out of breath within a second, and an uncomfortable lump of queasiness throbbed in her throat. When she looked up and peered through her fringe, which clung to her forehead like a wet curtain, the whole of Africa speared her in the face; sharp-white light was streaming in through an open window, reflecting off the blades of a slow-turning, whiney standing fan on a solid oak table beneath the window sill. The curtains were drawn, and fluttered (as did the flaps on the mosquito net) like the wings of a hapless insect trapped in the spider’s den.

‘There she is! How are you feeling, J?’

Janine was trying to match the voice with one of the many dancing faces in her head, and blurted out the first name that tickled her gums. ‘Mark?’

The figure of a man was standing at the foot of the bed. An annoying ting-ting-ting noise vibrated through the mattress and wriggled itself in, under Janine’s skin; the man was tapping with his ring on the wrought iron bed frame. Janine couldn’t make out his face; it was dark and polluted with colour blotches that bounced around in her eyes like a million rubber balls.

‘Mark?’

‘Hi. Yes, it’s me, hon.’ Mark stuck his head through the mosquito net flaps; his stubble caught on the sides, and he dabbed at his face with a hint of irritation in his eyes. ‘You were really out of it, Janine. How are you feeling?’

‘Crap.’ Janine forced a smile, ‘Where am I … we?’

‘We’re back at the rondavel. Do you like it? It’s pretty snazzy, heh?’

‘It’s … nice.’ Janine didn’t sound too convincing; she was still busy familiarizing herself with her new environment.

‘You … er … we spent last night in the park’s medical centre. You don’t remember anything? We had a conversation this morning; you said you wanted to see the lions. You really don’t remember, do you? Doctor Shepherd said you had really bad food poisoning—and the heat didn’t help, isn’t helping, either. You need to stay hydrated, Janine. There are some rehydration sachets on the coffee table. Would you like one now?’

‘How’s Am—’ Janine held her stomach, and retched at the mere thought of putting anything in her body.

‘Are you all right? Here.’ Mark leaned over and handed her a Baby Wipe, holding it out like a soiled adult nappy. ‘God, I can’t stand the smell of this stuff; it makes me want to puke.’

Janine held her hand over her mouth, swallowing.

‘Sorry, J, I didn’t mean—’

Janine snatched the Baby Wipe and placed it over her forehead. She shook her head in a don’t-worry-about-it way, and sank back—almost away, really; those magnet eyeballs were strong—into the down pillow.

‘Where’s Amy, Mark?’ Janine said. Her words felt thick and chunky.

‘She’s right here, J.’ Mark placed the doll on the pillow next to Janine. ‘You rest a little while longer.' God knows you’re going to need it.

Janine didn’t answer; she wrapped her arms around Amy as her soul was cast back into the dream-pool.