The Beach

∨ The Beach ∧

45

Bible-Bashing

No one was even slightly interested. A few asked ‘How was it?’ out of politeness, but as soon as I began to answer their eyes glazed over or their attention became diverted by something over my shoulder.

At first I found this attitude pretty frustrating – I wanted to talk at length about how fucked up Ko Pha-Ngan was – and the frustration was compounded by the unenthusiastic response I got when I handed out my little presents. Françoise took one taste of the toothpaste and spat it out, saying, ‘Ugh, I did not remember the way it burns,’ and Keaty said I shouldn’t have bought Thai-brand batteries because they run out so fast. The only person who seemed at all grateful was Unhygienix. He went straight off for a shower after I gave him the bars, and later he gave me a glowing report on the thick lather they produced.

But my frustration only lasted while Ko Pha-Ngan was fresh in my mind, which wasn’t long. Just as when I’d first arrived at the beach, my memory began to shut itself down. Steadily, quickly, so that within a week nothing much existed beyond the lagoon and its circle of protective cliffs. Nothing except the World, that is, and that had returned to its previous condition, a name to something faceless and indistinct.

My worries about Zeph and Sammy were the last things to go. As late as the fifth night I was kept awake, fretting about what plans they and the mysterious Germans might be making. But it became hard to maintain that level of worry as the days passed, and still no one had turned up. Having said that, the day after the fretful fifth night I did ask Jed whether he’d also been thinking about the Zeph and Sammy problem, and he made a see-saw motion with his hands. ‘I’ve been thinking about it a little,’ he said. ‘But I think we’re OK.’

‘You do?’ I replied, already sensing the weight of the problem lifting.

‘Yeah. Those two were on the pilgrim’s route. They had guidebook written all over them. If not, like I already said, we’ll deal with it when it happens.’ He pulled a knot of hair out of his beard. ‘You know, Richard, one of these days I’m going to find one of those Lonely Planet writers and I’m going to ask him, what’s so fucking lonely about the Khao San Road?’

I smiled. ‘Just before you punch his lights out, right?’

The smile was not returned.