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that photo, please? The one left in my backpack?’
    â€˜What’s the big interest? Hairy legs? ‘ Zoe pulled the torn photo from her pocket and Amy examined it as she walked.
    The edges looked torn, rather than cut. Did someone need to match it with another half? Had it been accidentally ripped? If so, by whom?
    â€˜Does the photo look like a place you know?’ Amy asked Zoe.
    â€˜Could be. The vegetation’s familiar. Just a short way to the lodge now,’’ called Zoe. ‘ Drinks on the veranda then.’
    Was Zoe avoiding the question? She was a good observer. She noticed birds and had already told them about wekas, kiwis and keas. Surely she’d know a local setting?
    Was there some reason why she wasn’t telling? Or was she just too busy with her job of getting people to the first hut? Mostly people walked in twos. Carrying packs made everybody wider, so only skinny people could fit three across. Mum and Dad and the camera made three.
    In front of them, Gertrude’s knee length, baggy shorts didn’t quite reach the long, red socks with black writing printed on them.
    Amy squirmed sideways to read the socks. ‘A HOLE IN ONE’ was printed in black
    â€˜Did you get a hole in one?’ Amy asked, walking alongside.
    â€˜How did you know darling?’ Gertrude looked pleased. “Of course, I’m famous at home, but I didn’t think New Zealanders would have heard of Golfer Gertrude.’
    â€˜I’m Australian,’ said Amy quickly.
    â€˜Australian know about golf too. Wonderful.’
    An I LOVE GOLF badge was pinned on her floppy hat. ‘Hate leaving my clubs behind,’ she told Amy as they strode along. ‘Brought them all this way from L.A. to play the New Zealand courses. Six in seven days. And another four in the North Island after this.’
    â€˜Are you a professional golfer?’
    â€˜No darling. Just an amateur. For fun. Golf is the love of my life.’
    â€˜Do Customs check what’s inside golf bags?’ asked Christopher catching up.
    â€˜Yes. Sometimes I buy a seat for my clubs,’ said Gertrude. ‘Don’t want them to get knocked around.’
    Why were those clubs on the carousel if the bag had had a seat in the plane?
    â€˜Like musicians,’ suggested Amy. Once, the twins had flown with the pop singer called The Mouth. He bought a seat for his guitar. The air ticket said Mr Gee.
    â€˜Did you have Mr Club on your air ticket?’ asked Christopher.
    Gertrude nodded. ‘How clever of you to work that out. Ms G. Club. My clubs are female. Yes, that’s what I often do. ‘ She let out a loud laugh. ‘But this flight, they travelled underneath with the baggage.
    â€˜That’s why I saw them on the carousel,’ said Christopher quietly. ‘The ones with the cartoon stickers on the head covers.’
    â€˜I collect stickers, stickers and retro-phone cards. D’you have any American stamps?’ asked Amy. ‘I could swap if you like.’
    Gertrude fumbled in her side pocket. ‘Usually he emails me. But I have a letter here from my son somewhere.
    That should have a stamp on it. Here’s the empty envelope dear. Keep it.’
    â€˜Thanks.’ The stamp was bright blue and one Amy didn’t have.
    The track wound around and Amy could hear the roar of the water. Voices carried from the path below on the other side of the river.
    Stan was talking to the Freedom Walker. He must have crossed the river. She nodded a lot, and her pack wobbled. They stood, their bodies close, as if they knew each other. Then Stan turned . The woman said something. He shook his head as if he were strongly disagreeing and then strode away, back in their direction
    The Freedom Walker watched him go, sighed and turned to walk away down the track. If they knew each other, why were they talking out here? Was Stan trying to hide something?
    â€˜Come on. There’s the