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what lay beyond.

The river journey took over two hours and by the time they reached the camp where they were due to spend a couple of days acclimatizing themselves to their surroundings, Vanessa’s clothes were damp and sticking uncomfortably to her body. The canoe tied up alongside a small quay and suddenly native Indians were all around, helping them land and then to negotiate a bridged wooden walkway that led to the village.

Built by the natives using traditional materials and techniques, there were several thatched wooden structures of various sizes, all on stilts, all giving the appearance of an authentic and indigenous rainforest village. It was only when she saw the western touches that had been added in the form of private bathrooms with sun-heated showers to the guest cabins that Vanessa realized the place was purpose built for the tourists.

Exhausted, Vanessa climbed up into the hut allocated to her and Ralph, determined to at least shower and change her clothes before joining the others for a meal. Served in the communal dining-room they made the acquaintance of the other guests who were amazed to learn of Ralph’s plans to take his new wife on a trek through unchartered, inhospitable jungle.

As they tucked into a hearty local soup followed by fish baked in vine leaves, Vanessa heard one earnest man tell Ralph quietly, ‘Remember, all the money in the world, won’t get you out of the jungle in a hurry.’

Making their way back to their hut at the end of the evening, Vanessa had asked Ralph what the man was warning him about.

‘Usual stuff about drug barons and gold smugglers.’ Ralph shrugged. ‘He didn’t seem to grasp the fact that my interest is in what remains of the ecological system, not the people who have ruined it. I have no intention of crossing swords with the local bandits.’

Vanessa shifted in her hammock trying to shut out the jungle’s night-time noises of howler monkeys and raucous insects. Briefly she wondered what other animals were out there, unheard, going about their nocturnal lives close to the encampment.

She shivered apprehensively. In twenty-four hours she wouldn’t even have the comfort of a native hut between her and the jungle inhabitants.

Ralph had decided to bring their departure from the camp forward by a day.

‘Harry and Nick have everything organized, so no point in hanging around in this pseudo environment,’ he’d said disparagingly, waving his hand around the campsite. ‘I know it is helping to remedy years of destruction to the jungle, but I want to get to where the real jungle is. See some natives living in the traditional way.’

Tomorrow they would leave the comforts of the camp behind them and then ‘Our adventure really will begin,’ Ralph had said excitedly, as they’d kissed each other goodnight.

‘You sure you won’t change your mind and come with us?’ Mathieu asked, as he and the twins left for their day out in the country. The outing hadn’t been mentioned since their argument a few days before and Nanette was relieved that Mathieu had allowed the subject to drop. This morning he seemed to have forgotten his earlier accusations and was happy to be going with the twins on his own after all.

‘It will be quiet here on your own all day.’

Nanette shook her head. ‘Quite sure, thanks. Besides, I won’t be on my own all day – I’m meeting Jean-Claude later. Enjoy yourselves.’

She was just closing the door behind them when Mathieu called out, ‘Nanette, there’s a package for you in my office. I’m sorry I forgot to tell you yesterday when it came. It’s on my desk.’

Nanette recognized Patsy’s handwriting on the large envelope. Taking a paperknife out of the desk tidy she carefully slit open the envelope. Replacing the paperknife, a crumpled piece of paper beside the wastepaper basket caught her attention. Picking it up she saw it was a detailed map of the Amazon clearly torn out of an atlas.

The twins were following Vanessa’s progress so there was nothing unusual in Mathieu having a map of the trip – in fact there was a large-scale one pinned to the wall – but this one had some of its place names circled in red and haphazardly linked together with numbers written against them. Puzzled, Nanette tried to work out what they could possibly represent, before deciding that it was probably a piece of scrap paper that Mathieu had been doodling on and threw it into the wastepaper basket where Mathieu had obviously intended it to go.

Going to her own room, Nanette carefully pulled out the contents of the envelope. Along, newsy letter from Patsy was wrapped around another sealed brown official envelope. Pensively, Nanette placed the envelope in the drawer of her dressing-table. Even without opening it she knew exactly what it contained. Taking Patsy’s letter with her she went to make a cup of coffee.

Because it was a fête day, Florence had the day off and for the first time since she’d arrived Nanette was completely alone in the apartment. Coffee cup in hand she wandered around enjoying the solitude. Pausing outside Mathieu’s closed bedroom door she realized she’d only ever had glimpses of that particular room – the door was always closed. Curiously, and smothering her guilty feelings, Nanette turned the handle, only to find the door was locked.

Nanette mused, sipping her coffee, was Mathieu just keen on privacy, or did he have something to hide in there? Deep in thought, she returned to Mathieu’s temporary office. The computer was switched off. The desk, aside from the desk tidy was empty. Not even a diary. And the filing cabinet was locked. The only discordant thing in the room was the crumpled atlas page in the wastepaper basket. She retrieved it and, smoothing it out, wandered back into the sitting-room. Maybe it was only a piece of waste paper, but somehow she had a feeling it was more than that. Perhaps she’d show it to Jean-Claude later and see if he had any ideas.

Standing

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