The Beach

∨ The Beach ∧

71

Dissent

Sal had been sitting in her usual spot outside the longhouse entrance, which, if you wanted to get to the beach, was unavoidable without an exhaustingly roundabout route via the Khyber Pass. But to my relief she’d moved by the time I left the hospital tent. I assumed she’d gone to the centre of the clearing to talk to Bugs; something I could have confirmed with a simple turn of the head, but I didn’t want to look in the enemy’s direction so I took it on faith. My mistake. I should have confirmed. Just like with Cassie, I was sprung as I thought I was leaving the danger zone – in this case past the longhouse, about to join the path from the clearing to the beach.

‘Richard,’ said a stern voice.

Sal was standing chest-deep in the shrubs beside the track. She’d clearly been hiding there in order to trap me. ‘You were hiding,’ I blurted, surprised into speaking the truth.

‘Yes, Richard, I was.’ She stepped forwards, delicately parting the ferns with a pudgy hand. ‘I didn’t want to force you into one of your ludicrously transparent evasion exercises.’

‘Evasion? I haven’t been evad…’

‘You have.’

‘No, really.’

‘Save it, Richard.’

This was the third time she’d used my name so I knew she meant business. I gave up the pretence with a feeble grin.

‘Wipe that smirk off your face,’ she said immediately. ‘Have you got any idea what trouble you’ve been causing me?’

‘Sorry, Sal.’

‘Sorry doesn’t cut it. You’re a pain in the ass. How simple were your instructions?’

‘Very simple, Sal.’

‘Very simple. But you’ve forgotten them already.’

‘No, I…’

‘Repeat them.’

‘…The instructions?’

‘Yes.’

I had to make an effort to keep a schoolboy’s insolence out of my voice. ‘While Jed is looking after Christo, it’s my responsibility to keep you up to date on…’ I stammered and a cold flush pricked my neck. I’d nearly said Zeph and Sammy’s names.

‘On?’ Sal demanded.

‘…On our potential new arrivals.’

‘Exactly. Now perhaps you can tell me why you’re finding that one little task so difficult.’

‘There was nothing to tell today. No developments, same as always…’

‘Wrong.’ Sal shook a finger at me. I watched the little hammocks of fat under her upper arm wobble indignantly. ‘Wrong, wrong, wrong. If there’s nothing to tell, I want to hear it. Otherwise I worry, and I’ve got a lot to worry about at the moment, so I don’t need you making things worse. Get it?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good.’ She lowered her finger and took a breath to compose herself. ‘I don’t mean to be tough on you, but I just can’t deal with extra hassles at the moment. Morale is…well, morale is bad.’

‘We’ll pull through.’

‘I know we will, Richard,’ she said curtly. ‘I have no doubt of it. But to make certain, I want you to pass on a message to all your friends.’

‘…Sure.’

‘Yes. I want you to tell them that for the past three days, for obvious reasons, I’ve been tolerating this absurd rift that has blown up in the camp.’

I made a rather foolish attempt at appearing innocent. ‘Rift?’

‘Rift! As in half the camp not talking to the other half! As in people threatening to stick spears in other people’s necks!’

I reddened.

‘Now you may or may not know that tomorrow morning we’re going to be burying Sten. I want that burial to mark the end of the tension so that some good can come out of this appalling tragedy. I also want you to know that I’m giving the same message to Bugs. I don’t want you lot thinking he’s getting preferential treatment because he’s my man. OK?’

‘OK.’

Sal nodded. Then she put the base of her palm flat on her forehead, and held it there silently for several seconds.

Poor Sal, I thought. I hadn’t been very understanding of the stress she was under, and I made a resolution to be a good deal more understanding in the future. I wasn’t even sure why I’d been avoiding her. My problem was with Bugs. I’d unfairly allowed my dislike of him to spill over to her.

‘So,’ she said eventually. ‘Where were you going before I nabbed you?’

‘To the beach. Looking for Françoise…and checking up on Karl.’

‘Karl…’ Sal muttered something indistinct and looked up at the canopy. When she looked down she seemed surprised to find me still with her. ‘Go on then,’ she said, ushering me away. ‘What are you waiting for? Get lost.’

♦

It was getting close to six o’clock when I reached the beach, cool enough to walk slowly on the dry sand if I’d wanted to. But I didn’t. I was playing one of my games, and it required walking in the damp sand by the shore.

The aim was to leave the perfect footprint, and it was a lot harder and more preoccupying than it might sound. If the sand was the dry side of damp, the footprint crumbled; the moist side and it melted as the squeezed-out water seeped back in. Then there was the application of pressure. The toes sank too deeply with a normal step and flawed the imprint. The alternative, taking an artificial step with even pressure, created a good imprint at the cost of ethics. This was the compromise I wrestled with.

In this way I made my way along the beach, hopping, pausing, groaning, mashing up bad prints in frustration. My eyes were always pointed downwards, so I didn’t realize I’d reached my friends until I was within a couple of metres of them.

‘Are you going insane, Rich?’ I heard Keaty say. ‘If you are, tell us. It might mean you have better luck getting through to Karl.’

‘I’m trying to make the perfect footprint,’ I replied without raising my head. ‘It’s really difficult.’

Keaty laughed in a way that told me he was stoned. ‘The perfect footprint, huh? Yeah, that’s getting pretty close to insane. And more original than trying to draw the perfect circle.’

‘Circle?’

‘It’s what mad people do.’

‘Oh.’ I stamped out my last effort and trudged over, disappointed to see that Françoise wasn’t with them. ‘Is that what Karl is doing?’

‘Nope. He’s too mad even for circles.’

‘Actually,’ Étienne interrupted, not about to join in with Keaty’s flippant appraisal, ‘Karl is not mad. He is en état de choc.’

Keaty arched his eyebrows. ‘Uh-huh. Just what I figured…Now maybe you could tell us what it means.’

‘I do not know the correct English. It is why I said it in French.’

‘That’s helpful.’

‘If you had intended to help, you would be taking Karl to Ko Pha-Ngan,’ said Étienne stiffly, and stood up. ‘And I am tired of arguing this with you. Excuse me, Richard. I am going back to camp. You will tell Françoise when she returns?’

‘OK,’ I replied uncomfortably. I’d obviously turned up in the middle of something, and I wasn’t at all happy with the idea that my friends had been arguing. We had to stick together, even if Sal was going to be calling for a truce tomorrow.

Étienne began walking away. A couple of seconds later, Keaty turned to Gregorio and hissed, ‘Why the fuck weren’t you backing me up?’

Gregorio looked at his hands pensively. ‘I do not know…I thought perhaps he was right.’

‘He isn’t right. How can he be right?’

‘Hold on,’ I said, first checking behind me to make sure that Étienne was out of earshot. ‘Was Étienne being serious about Ko Pha-Ngan?’

Keaty nodded. His tiny dreadlocks were still short enough to stand bolt upright, and they seemed to accentuate his expression of incredulity. ‘Dead serious. He’s been saying it all day. Says he’s going to bring it up with Sal.’

‘But he must know we can’t take him to Ko Pha-Ngan. What would we say? ‘Here’s a friend of ours who’s been attacked by a shark and had a nervous breakdown on our secret beach. Well, we’ll be off then. See you…’’

‘He thinks we could take him there and drop him off near Hat Rin.’

‘That’s nuts. Even if he didn’t give everything away, how would we know he got looked after? There’s a million fucked-up freaks over there. If someone saw him wasting away on the sand, they’d just ignore him.’ I shook my head. ‘No way. The best thing for Karl is for him to be here.’

‘I’ve been telling that to Étienne all day. But wait, it gets worse. He wants to drop Sten off on Ko Pha-Ngan as well.’

‘Sten?’

‘Yep.’

‘But he’s dead! What would be the point of…’

‘His family. Étienne thinks we have to let them know what’s happened to their son. See, if we left them both on the beach then Karl would definitely be noticed and Sten’s family would be contacted.’

I smiled in disbelief. ‘Yeah, and meanwhile we’d definitely get discovered. We’d be finished. It’s the worst idea I ever heard.’

‘Tell me about it,’ said Keaty. ‘And while you’re about it,’ he added, pointing at Gregorio, ‘tell him.’

Gregorio lay on his back to avoid our accusing stares. ‘I only think we should think about what Étienne says. If Karl is not talking to any people here, maybe he will not talk to any people on Ko Pha-Ngan.’

‘No,’ said Keaty. ‘He’ll talk, eventually. And when he does, I’d rather he did it to us. Not some fucking Thai cop or Swedish shrink.’

I couldn’t have put it better myself.