The Beach

∨ The Beach ∧

93

Spiked

Now I was on a roll. Getting on top of things. The two hardest converts were converted and all I had to do was get Jed, fill him in, and wait for our chance to slip away. I was feeling so good that I started humming my mouse song as Keaty and I re-entered the clearing. The only problem was, Keaty joined in too. Joined in with manic gusto, hitting the wrong notes, turning heads. ‘What are you doing?’ I hissed. ‘You sound like a swarm of bees.’

‘I can’t help it,’ he hissed back through a rigid ventriloquist’s smile. ‘I’m freaking out. I feel like everybody’s watching us.’

‘You’ve got to act normal.’

‘I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle this, Rich.’

‘The Gameboy. Go and play the Gameboy. And if Sal asks you to join in with the preparations, just try to be calm.’

‘Got it,’ he whispered, and walked off to his tent, arms stiffly swinging by his sides.

♦

Étienne and Françoise were coping a lot more successfully, but they did have each other for support. They sat close to the kitchen hut, apparently chatting idly, busy helping to gut the enormous catch of fish.

Sal, meanwhile, was nowhere to be seen. I wanted to locate her before I tried to get to the hospital tent – remembering that she’d told me to stay away from Jed – so I moved to the centre of the clearing, expecting to spot her with Bugs and the carpenters.

The meeting area had progressed swiftly over the time I’d been away. Our bed sheets and one or two unzipped sleeping-bags had been suspended between bamboo poles, making a flat marquee about twenty-five feet in diameter. Bugs had Cassie on his shoulders, giggling and laying palm leaves above the sheets. I guessed the canopy needed to be thick enough to block out the glow from our candles and barbecue, in case any planes happened to pass over us tonight.

But Sal wasn’t with the carpenters either. Which meant there was a strong possibility she was in the hospital tent with Jed.

‘Shit,’ I said.

‘Not impressed?’ said a crisp voice, directly behind me.

I delayed for a second in order to compose myself and do some rapid thinking, then turned around.’…Impressed, Sal?’

‘With our construction.’

‘Oh, I’m very impressed with that. Very impressed. It’s amazing. No, I was thinking about something else.’

‘Mmm?’

‘My cigarettes. I left half a packet on the beach.’

‘Oh.’

‘No big deal. I’ve just got a feeling they were at the low-tide mark, and the water’s coming in. Stupid of me.’

‘Doesn’t seem too serious.’

‘No, no.’ I shook my head. ‘Not at all serious.’

‘Good…I’m glad to see you’ve cheered up since this morning.’

‘I feel much better.’

‘I assume that means I shouldn’t worry about any unexpected problems tonight.’

‘…That’s right. No problems. You can…forget about him.’

‘Forget?’ Sal said, not missing a beat. ‘Forget about who?’

‘…Karl.’

She gave me an odd look. ‘Who?’

‘Karl.’

‘Who’s Karl?’

‘Karl’s…’ I began, then the penny dropped. ‘Nobody.’

‘I thought you were talking about someone here.’

‘No.’

‘Fine.’ Sal nodded fractionally. ‘Well, I’d better get back to work. Still lots to do.’

‘Sure.’

‘If you get stuck for a chore, let me know. We’ll soon find something.’

‘Right.’

‘Lovely.’

A few moments later Sal was standing under the marquee and pointing out gaps in the sheets to Bugs, although he didn’t appear to be paying attention. He still had Cassie on his broad shoulders, and he kept breaking into a little jog to make her squeal.

♦

It was gone four o’clock before I had a chance to get to the hospital tent, and a chance to do something else as well. A piece of inspired opportunism, I thought at the time.

At four, all of the preparations for the evening were as good as finished. The marquee was complete, the stews were bubbling, the chickens were ready to barbecue, and the vegetable peelings, feathers and fish guts had been taken down the Khyber Pass and thrown away. So Sal, sensing a lull, suggested a huge game of football down on the beach. ‘Let’s work up an appetite!’ she’d called out. ‘A serious appetite!’

This was excellent news. As Keaty and I never joined in the football, we had an excuse to remain behind. Plus we could offer to tend the cooking pots, meaning Unhygienix could leave with the others. By ten past the clearing was empty.

‘He’s going to notice,’ said Keaty nervously, watching me sprinkle huge handfuls of grass into the stew. ‘It’s going to taste really strange.’

‘If he notices, I’ll just admit it was me. I’ll say it was for the atmosphere.’

‘He hates people fucking with his food.’

‘Yeah, well if we don’t do something the party will go on all night.’ I paused, picking up roughly half an ounce, and chucked it into the biggest pot. Then I chucked in another half. ‘Anyway, after an hour he’ll be too messed up to give a shit.’

‘He’ll be tripping. Everyone will.’

‘Whatever. Just make sure you don’t eat any of this. Stick to the chicken and rice. And make sure Étienne and Françoise get the same message.’

‘…It won’t be easy to avoid eating the stew.’

‘We’ll manage.’ I dusted my hands off and surveyed my handiwork. After a couple of turns with a stick there was no evidence of the new ingredient. ‘You reckon we should chuck in some magic mushrooms or something?’

‘No.’

‘OK. So how much do you reckon is in there now?’

‘In total? All the pots?’

‘In total.’

‘A lot. Way too much. You’re a fucking lunatic.’

‘A lunatic!’ I laughed. ‘Hold the front page.’