The Beach

∨ The Beach ∧

62

Bedlam

I only stayed with Keaty a short while because I wanted to check on Étienne and Françoise. He wouldn’t come with me because he said he wasn’t ready to face people yet, the poor guy. It was rough to have fought for so long to get on to the fishing detail and then to have been responsible for such a fuck-up. He felt especially guilty that he’d been one of the few unaffected by the squid. I tried to tell him not to be so daft because he could hardly blame himself for having a good immune system, but it didn’t do any good.

When I saw what was happening inside the longhouse, I was glad Keaty had decided to stay behind. The scene inside would only have made him feel worse. I’d had no idea that the effects of the food poisoning had been so severe, and actually I doubted Keaty had realized either, or he’d have been back at the camp helping.

Running all the way down the centre of the room were candles, placed there, I guessed, to keep them from being kicked over by the writhing figures on the beds. Through the burning-wax fumes there was the sour smell of vomit. Everybody was moaning – probably not constantly, but there were enough of them to overlap and keep the noise at a steady level – and everybody seemed to have reverted to their own language. Picking out recognizable words in the meaningless babble made everything all the more surreal. People wanted water or the sick to be wiped off their chests. When I passed Jesse he lunged for my foot and asked me to carry him to the bathroom hut. ‘I’ve got shit all over my fucking legs!’ he gasped incredulously. ‘All over! Look!’

I spotted Cassie and Moshe darting between the beds, hopelessly trying to attend to all the different requests. When Cassie saw me she made a despairing motion with her arms and said, ‘Are they dying?’

I shook my head.

‘How do you know, Richard?’

‘They’re not dying.’

‘How do you know?’

‘I don’t.’ I shook my head again. ‘Jesse’s calling for you.’

Cassie ran to check on her boyfriend and I continued down the longhouse towards Françoise and Étienne.

♦

Françoise was the worst off – I think. Étienne was asleep, so I suppose he might have been unconscious, but he was breathing steadily and his forehead didn’t feel too hot. Françoise, however, was awake and in a great deal of pain. The cramps seemed to come in regular waves about sixty seconds apart. She didn’t cry out like everybody else but she bit her bottom lip, and all over her stomach were marks from where she’d been digging her fingernails.

‘Stop doing that,’ I said firmly, after she’d nearly drawn blood from biting so hard.

She looked at me through dull eyes.’…Richard?’

‘Yes. You’re chewing your mouth to pieces…You shouldn’t.’

‘It hurts.’

‘I can see, but…Here.’ I reached into my pocket and pulled out my cigarettes. Then I ripped off the top of the box and pressed it flat. ‘You can bite on that instead.’

‘It still hurts.’

I smoothed her damp hair away from her face. ‘I know it does, but this way you get to keep your lips.’

‘Oh.’ She managed to look faintly amused. She might even have managed a smile if another pain-wave hadn’t come.

‘What is happening, Richard?’ she asked, when her muscles had relaxed.

‘You’ve got food poisoning.’

‘I mean, what is happening now?’

‘Well…’ I looked down the longhouse. I wasn’t sure how to answer in case I frightened her. ‘People are chucking up, and…Moshe and Cassie are here…’

‘Do you think this is serious for us?’

‘No, no,’ I replied, laughing encouragingly. ‘You’ll all be much better tomorrow. You’ll all be fine.’

‘Richard…’

‘Uh-huh?’

‘When Étienne and I were in Sumatra, someone died from eating bad shellfish.’

I nodded slowly. ‘Yes, but they probably ate the whole thing. You would have only had a tiny little bit, so you’ll be OK.’

‘Really?’

‘Sure.’

She sighed. ‘Good…Richard, I need some water…Please will you bring me some?’

‘Of course. I’ll be back in two minutes.’

As I stood up, the cramps came back again. I watched her for a moment, uncertain whether I should go or wait with her until the pain had passed, then I jogged down the longhouse, ignoring the pleas I passed on the way.