The Beach

∨ The Beach ∧

91

Efforts

I was a fool. I was kidding myself. As the idea of leaving had come into my head, another idea had sneaked inside with it. That maybe this was the way it could all end up. Not in some VC dope-guard attack and a panic-stricken evacuation from the clearing, but with a simple demobilization of forces. After all, this was the way Vietnam had ended for a lot of US soldiers. Most US soldiers. Statistics were on my side, I’d have played by Mister Duck’s rules, and I’d be out in one piece.

I could not have been more wrong, but that was the way I was thinking. Full of hasty schemes and plans, and the fucked-up optimism that comes from desperation.

♦

I wasn’t bothered by the practicalities of leaving. It would have been easier if Karl hadn’t taken the boat, but we still had the raft. If that was gone, we’d swim. We were all much fitter than we had been and I had no doubts we could do it again. So with transportation out of the way, the only other complication was food and water. But water could be solved with water bottles and catching fish was our speciality. All in all, the practicalities weren’t worth more than passing consideration. I had much more serious things on my mind, like who we’d take with us.

Françoise was the first to sort out. She was standing two boulders over from mine, one hand loosely resting on her thigh and the other pressed to her lips. Étienne stood in front of her, talking rapidly, too quiet for the sound to carry.

Their conversation became increasingly animated. Intense enough for me to start worrying that Gregorio would notice there was some kind of problem. He was in the water, closer to me than them, diving with Keaty. But just as I began to contemplate ways I might distract Greg’s attention, the exchange abruptly ended. Françoise looked over at me with wide eyes. Étienne said something urgent, and she quickly turned back. Then Étienne threw a quick nod in my direction, and that was that. I knew she’d agreed to leave.

It was a big relief. I’d been completely unable to predict how she’d react, and worryingly, so had Étienne. He’d said that it would all depend on whether she put the beach above her love for him. A close call, judging by the way things had been going, and we both knew it.

But however close the Françoise call was, it was a lot more straightforward than the other two names on our list: Jed and Keaty. Or my list, I should say, because Étienne didn’t want to take either of them. I could see his point – if we only had to take Françoise, we could almost have left at once. We could have been above the cliffs and on our way to the raft within sixty minutes. But over the months of my beach life, I’d done enough to keep me in nightmares for the next twenty years. I didn’t want to add to my sentence now. Jed and Keaty had been my best two friends on the beach, and even if it was risky – particularly with Keaty – I couldn’t disappear without offering them the chance to come too.

The nightmares I couldn’t avoid were Gregorio, Ella, Unhygienix, Jesse and Cassie. Even if they agreed to come – which they wouldn’t – and we managed to keep it secret from Sal – which would be impossible – we’d never all fit on the raft. So they had to be left behind. And I accepted that without any internal debate. It was irrelevant how it made me feel.

♦

Soon after Étienne had finished talking to Françoise, she swam over to where I sat and pulled herself halfway out of the water. I waited for her to say something, but she kept quiet. She didn’t even look at me. ‘Is there a problem?’ I whispered, keeping one eye over her shoulder. Gregorio and Keaty were still diving near by. ‘…You understand why we have to go?’

‘Maybe,’ she replied after a pause. ‘I understand that Étienne wants to leave because he is frightened of Sal.’

‘He’s right to be frightened of her.’

‘Is he?’

‘Yes.’

‘But I do not think that is why you are leaving…For you, there is something else.’

‘…Something else?’

‘You would not leave if it was only because Étienne is frightened of Sal.’

‘I would. I am.’

‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘Will you tell me why you want to leave?’

‘It’s just like Étienne told you…’

‘Richard. I am asking you. Please tell me why.’

‘There’s nothing to tell. I think if we stay that Étienne may be in danger.’

‘You do not think it can get better after Tet? Everyone says life will be better after Tet. You do not think, maybe we should stay? We can wait for a few more days and then, if you are still afraid…’

‘Tet will change nothing, Françoise. Life will only get worse.’

‘Worse…Worse than we have had.’

‘Yes.’

‘But you will not tell me why.’

‘…I don’t know how I could.’

‘But you are sure.’

‘Yes. I’m sure.’

She slipped back into the water. ‘We will never be able to come back,’ she said, just before her head submerged, and sighed. ‘So sad…’

‘Perhaps,’ I replied to the stream of bubbles she left behind on the surface. ‘If there was anything to come back to.’

♦

Ten minutes later, Gregorio held up his fishing spear. A milkfish flapped on its point, sliding itself further down the shaft with its efforts to get free, the last fish needed for the extra quota.

Françoise, Étienne and Gregorio began to make their way back towards the beach, jumping between the boulders where possible, swimming where necessary. Keaty and I stayed back.

‘Hang on,’ I’d said, when the others had set off. ‘I want to show you something.’

He’d frowned. ‘We’ve got to get the catch back.’

‘It can wait. Twenty minutes. Twenty-five. It’s important.’

‘Well,’ he’d said, and shrugged. ‘If it’s important…’