Instinctively I ducked down, not recognizing the dark bobbing head at first. An instant paranoid scenario had formed: as someone who knew too much, Sal had sent Bugs after me in the same way that I'd been sent after Karl. Maybe this was what she'd meant by saying I couldn't afford to let her down.
'Richard?' the head called over the sound of the waves. It was Étienne. He was treading water, looking around, apparently having spotted neither me nor the missing boat. 'Are you here, Richard?'
Of all the people I might fear on the beach, Étienne was the least likely candidate. Warily I stood up and waved him over.
I only noticed how cold I was when he'd swum over to the shelf and hauled himself up. I could hear his teeth chattering. The sun was still too low in the sky to reach inside the cave entrance, and the sea wind chilled the spray. 'I followed you,' he said, rubbing goose-bumps off his arms. 'I wanted to talk.'
I paused, wondering why he hadn't noticed that the boat was gone. Then it dawned on me that there was a good chance he'd never been on this side of the caves. In which case he'd also never been through the underwater passage before. Very brave, I commented to myself. Or just as crazy as everyone else.
'I know there has been some difficulty between us,' he continued. 'Some difficulty between us, yes?'
I shrugged.
'Please, Richard. I would be very happy if we could talk about this. We should not be this way. Not at this time…'
'What time is that?'
'Before…' Étienne swallowed awkwardly. 'Before Tet. Sal wants all difficulties to be over for Tet. A new start for the new year… Everybody else in the camp has forgotten their arguments. Keaty and Bugs even. So… I thought we should talk about our problem and make friends again… I thought we should talk about when you kissed Françoise…'
It was funny. My world was falling to pieces, everything in my life revolved around threat, and my nerves were shot to shit. But hearing that Étienne was still worried about the kiss with Françoise made me feel like laughing out loud.
'That is the problem, no? It is because of my reaction. My stupid reaction. Really, it was all my fault. I am very sorry that…'
'Étienne, what the hell are you talking about?'
'…The kiss.'
'The kiss.' I glanced up at the sky. 'Fuck the kiss. And fuck all that crap about Tet and Sal, too. I know how much you care about Tet.'
'I care about Tet!' he exclaimed, very alarmed. 'Of course, I care very much! I am working very hard to make sure tha…'
'Bullshit,' I interrupted.
Étienne stood up, making as if he was going to dive back into the water. 'I have to get back to the fishing detail now. I only wanted to apologize so that now we can be friends and…'
I caught his elbow and dragged him back down. 'Jesus! What's the matter with you?'
'Nothing! Richard, I only wanted to apologize! Please, now I must get back to…'
'Étienne, will you cut it out? You're acting like I'm the fucking Gestapo!'
He went very silent.
'What?' I shouted. 'What is it?'
He still wouldn't reply, but looked extremely worried.
'Say something!'
After at least a half-minute, Étienne cleared his throat. 'Richard, I want to speak to you, but… I do not know…'
'You don't know what?'
He took a deep breath. 'I do not know if it is… safe.'
'Safe? '
'I… I understand Sal has not been happy with me…'
I dropped my head into my hands. 'Christ,' I muttered. 'You do think I'm the Gestapo.'
'I think you… do things. You do things for Sal. Everybody knows…'
'Everybody knows?'
'Today, you were looking for Karl…' 'What does everybody know?' 'Where is Karl, Richard? Did you catch him?' I closed my eyes against a wave of nausea. 'Is he dead now?'
Everyone knew I did things for Sal. Everyone talked about it. They just didn't talk about it in front of me.
Étienne might have continued speaking, asking what I'd done with Karl, but I can't be sure because I wasn't really listening. My head was filling up. I was remembering the way Cassie had looked at me when I'd let Bugs slip and slide in his shit. And the way a consensus of silence could drop as fast as an Asian rainstorm, and Jean nervously asking me on a date, and unmentioned gunshots. Unnoticed Christo dying in the death tent, Sten's funeral forgotten in half a day, Karl forgotten on a beach.
Except now, suddenly, not forgotten on a beach after all. Deliberately avoided to provide me with a discreet window of opportunity. A space for me to do the things I do for Sal.
God knows what those weeks since the food poisoning had been like for Étienne. It's impossible for me to put myself in his shoes, working through how he must have interpreted the events around him. I know because I've tried. The nearest I got was while I was sitting with him in the empty cove, and I've never been close since.
Ultimately, I've only got one reliable touchstone to his experience. The scene that followed Karl running through the clearing with me on his tail. The moment when Françoise strode away from him, distancing herself from the liability that he'd become, ignoring his outstretched arms. I'd give a lot to know what she'd said to him later. But obviously it was enough for him to realize that once Karl was out of the way, he might be next.
'Étienne,' I said, hearing my voice from far away. 'Would you like to go home?'
He didn't seem to reply for a long time. 'You mean… the camp?'
'I mean home.'
'…Not the camp?'
'Not the camp.'
'Not…'
'Leaving the beach. France for you and Françoise, England for me.'
I turned to face him, and was immediately hit by a second rush of sickness. It was the expression on his face, hiding his hope so badly. 'It's all right,' I murmured and reached out, intending to pat his shoulder for reassurance. But as soon as I moved, he recoiled.
'Don't worry,' I said. 'Everything will be OK. We're going to leave tonight.'
Efforts
Show, Don't Tell
Spiked
Don't Mean Nothing
Potchentong
A Loose End
Something Happening Here
What It Is Ain't Exactly Clear
'Richard?' the head called over the sound of the waves. It was Étienne. He was treading water, looking around, apparently having spotted neither me nor the missing boat. 'Are you here, Richard?'
Of all the people I might fear on the beach, Étienne was the least likely candidate. Warily I stood up and waved him over.
I only noticed how cold I was when he'd swum over to the shelf and hauled himself up. I could hear his teeth chattering. The sun was still too low in the sky to reach inside the cave entrance, and the sea wind chilled the spray. 'I followed you,' he said, rubbing goose-bumps off his arms. 'I wanted to talk.'
I paused, wondering why he hadn't noticed that the boat was gone. Then it dawned on me that there was a good chance he'd never been on this side of the caves. In which case he'd also never been through the underwater passage before. Very brave, I commented to myself. Or just as crazy as everyone else.
'I know there has been some difficulty between us,' he continued. 'Some difficulty between us, yes?'
I shrugged.
'Please, Richard. I would be very happy if we could talk about this. We should not be this way. Not at this time…'
'What time is that?'
'Before…' Étienne swallowed awkwardly. 'Before Tet. Sal wants all difficulties to be over for Tet. A new start for the new year… Everybody else in the camp has forgotten their arguments. Keaty and Bugs even. So… I thought we should talk about our problem and make friends again… I thought we should talk about when you kissed Françoise…'
It was funny. My world was falling to pieces, everything in my life revolved around threat, and my nerves were shot to shit. But hearing that Étienne was still worried about the kiss with Françoise made me feel like laughing out loud.
'That is the problem, no? It is because of my reaction. My stupid reaction. Really, it was all my fault. I am very sorry that…'
'Étienne, what the hell are you talking about?'
'…The kiss.'
'The kiss.' I glanced up at the sky. 'Fuck the kiss. And fuck all that crap about Tet and Sal, too. I know how much you care about Tet.'
'I care about Tet!' he exclaimed, very alarmed. 'Of course, I care very much! I am working very hard to make sure tha…'
'Bullshit,' I interrupted.
Étienne stood up, making as if he was going to dive back into the water. 'I have to get back to the fishing detail now. I only wanted to apologize so that now we can be friends and…'
I caught his elbow and dragged him back down. 'Jesus! What's the matter with you?'
'Nothing! Richard, I only wanted to apologize! Please, now I must get back to…'
'Étienne, will you cut it out? You're acting like I'm the fucking Gestapo!'
He went very silent.
'What?' I shouted. 'What is it?'
He still wouldn't reply, but looked extremely worried.
'Say something!'
After at least a half-minute, Étienne cleared his throat. 'Richard, I want to speak to you, but… I do not know…'
'You don't know what?'
He took a deep breath. 'I do not know if it is… safe.'
'Safe? '
'I… I understand Sal has not been happy with me…'
I dropped my head into my hands. 'Christ,' I muttered. 'You do think I'm the Gestapo.'
'I think you… do things. You do things for Sal. Everybody knows…'
'Everybody knows?'
'Today, you were looking for Karl…' 'What does everybody know?' 'Where is Karl, Richard? Did you catch him?' I closed my eyes against a wave of nausea. 'Is he dead now?'
Everyone knew I did things for Sal. Everyone talked about it. They just didn't talk about it in front of me.
Étienne might have continued speaking, asking what I'd done with Karl, but I can't be sure because I wasn't really listening. My head was filling up. I was remembering the way Cassie had looked at me when I'd let Bugs slip and slide in his shit. And the way a consensus of silence could drop as fast as an Asian rainstorm, and Jean nervously asking me on a date, and unmentioned gunshots. Unnoticed Christo dying in the death tent, Sten's funeral forgotten in half a day, Karl forgotten on a beach.
Except now, suddenly, not forgotten on a beach after all. Deliberately avoided to provide me with a discreet window of opportunity. A space for me to do the things I do for Sal.
God knows what those weeks since the food poisoning had been like for Étienne. It's impossible for me to put myself in his shoes, working through how he must have interpreted the events around him. I know because I've tried. The nearest I got was while I was sitting with him in the empty cove, and I've never been close since.
Ultimately, I've only got one reliable touchstone to his experience. The scene that followed Karl running through the clearing with me on his tail. The moment when Françoise strode away from him, distancing herself from the liability that he'd become, ignoring his outstretched arms. I'd give a lot to know what she'd said to him later. But obviously it was enough for him to realize that once Karl was out of the way, he might be next.
'Étienne,' I said, hearing my voice from far away. 'Would you like to go home?'
He didn't seem to reply for a long time. 'You mean… the camp?'
'I mean home.'
'…Not the camp?'
'Not the camp.'
'Not…'
'Leaving the beach. France for you and Françoise, England for me.'
I turned to face him, and was immediately hit by a second rush of sickness. It was the expression on his face, hiding his hope so badly. 'It's all right,' I murmured and reached out, intending to pat his shoulder for reassurance. But as soon as I moved, he recoiled.
'Don't worry,' I said. 'Everything will be OK. We're going to leave tonight.'
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…'
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…'
Show, Don't Tell
I had imagined that, of the three, Keaty would be the hardest to persuade. He'd lived on the beach for longer than all of us, he didn't have Françoise's attachment to Étienne, or Jed's bleak disillusionment. But it turned out he was the easiest. All I had to do was to show him where the boat had been, and he virtually came up with the idea himself.
'It can't be gone,' Keaty said, and leant over, trailing his arms in the water as if hoping to find its sunken prow. 'It just can't be. It's not possible.'
'But it is.'
'It can't be.'
'You can see for yourself.'
'Don't tell me what I can see!'
'…I don't know what Sal's going to say…'
'I do! She's going to fucking flip! She's going to lose her mind! She's going to…' He rose up with a jerk and clapped both hands to his head. 'Oh my God, Rich…'
I frowned with what I imagine looked like innocent concern. '…What is it?
'I was the one who tied it up… I was the one who… Jesus Christ!
'What? Tell me!'
'I'm dead!' he almost screamed. 'I'm a fucking dead man!'
'…Dead? Why?'
'The food poisoning! And now losing the boat! Shit! Fuck! Of all things, losing the… Don't you get it? She'll do for me! She'll do for me like she did for… for… Oh no! ' He leapt to his feet and started quickly backing away.' …This is why you got me here, isn't it? She already knows! She already fucking knows!'
I stood up too.
'You stay where you are! '
'Keaty…'
He drew back a fist. 'Stay where you are!'
'Keaty…'
'I swear, if you make one fucking move I'll…'
'Keaty!' I yelled, suddenly feeling angry myself. 'Shut the fuck up! I'm not going to attack you, for Christ's sake!'
'Back off!'
'OK, OK!' I took several steps away from him. 'I'm backing off!'
'Further! Get right back against the rock!'
I did as I was told. 'There! Satisfied?'
He stayed frozen with his fist raised. 'If you make one move…'
'You'll pulverize me. I know.'
'I will do it! I'm not Karl! I'm telling you, you won't have a fucking prayer!'
'I know. I'll be creamed. But you've got to believe me, I've got no intention of attacking you. I can't even believe you think I would! You're one of my best friends!'
His fist lowered, but no more than an inch.
'…Does Sal know about the boat?'
'No.'
'You promise?'
'On my life. The whole reason I brought you here is so you could find out before she did. And think about it, Keaty. How could she know? You only got back last night, so when could she have had a chance to find out?'
He thought about this a few seconds then lowered his fist completely. 'Yes,' he murmured blankly. 'That's true… She couldn't know…'
'Right.'
'…But… she'll find out soon… She'll have to…'
'She'll find out very soon.'
'Fuck!' he blurted, his panic rising again. 'And then what will I do? I won't be able to sleep at nights! I won't be able to go anywhere alone! I'll have to…'
'Leave?'
I'll have to leave! Yes! Jesus! I should leave right now! I'll take the…' He whirled around and stared at the cove. 'Oh, God,' he whispered, 'but I can't. I'm trapped here… trapped…'
'No,' I replied, raising a hand to my temples as if formulating a rapid and brilliant scheme. 'There might be another option.'
'It can't be gone,' Keaty said, and leant over, trailing his arms in the water as if hoping to find its sunken prow. 'It just can't be. It's not possible.'
'But it is.'
'It can't be.'
'You can see for yourself.'
'Don't tell me what I can see!'
'…I don't know what Sal's going to say…'
'I do! She's going to fucking flip! She's going to lose her mind! She's going to…' He rose up with a jerk and clapped both hands to his head. 'Oh my God, Rich…'
I frowned with what I imagine looked like innocent concern. '…What is it?
'I was the one who tied it up… I was the one who… Jesus Christ!
'What? Tell me!'
'I'm dead!' he almost screamed. 'I'm a fucking dead man!'
'…Dead? Why?'
'The food poisoning! And now losing the boat! Shit! Fuck! Of all things, losing the… Don't you get it? She'll do for me! She'll do for me like she did for… for… Oh no! ' He leapt to his feet and started quickly backing away.' …This is why you got me here, isn't it? She already knows! She already fucking knows!'
I stood up too.
'You stay where you are! '
'Keaty…'
He drew back a fist. 'Stay where you are!'
'Keaty…'
'I swear, if you make one fucking move I'll…'
'Keaty!' I yelled, suddenly feeling angry myself. 'Shut the fuck up! I'm not going to attack you, for Christ's sake!'
'Back off!'
'OK, OK!' I took several steps away from him. 'I'm backing off!'
'Further! Get right back against the rock!'
I did as I was told. 'There! Satisfied?'
He stayed frozen with his fist raised. 'If you make one move…'
'You'll pulverize me. I know.'
'I will do it! I'm not Karl! I'm telling you, you won't have a fucking prayer!'
'I know. I'll be creamed. But you've got to believe me, I've got no intention of attacking you. I can't even believe you think I would! You're one of my best friends!'
His fist lowered, but no more than an inch.
'…Does Sal know about the boat?'
'No.'
'You promise?'
'On my life. The whole reason I brought you here is so you could find out before she did. And think about it, Keaty. How could she know? You only got back last night, so when could she have had a chance to find out?'
He thought about this a few seconds then lowered his fist completely. 'Yes,' he murmured blankly. 'That's true… She couldn't know…'
'Right.'
'…But… she'll find out soon… She'll have to…'
'She'll find out very soon.'
'Fuck!' he blurted, his panic rising again. 'And then what will I do? I won't be able to sleep at nights! I won't be able to go anywhere alone! I'll have to…'
'Leave?'
I'll have to leave! Yes! Jesus! I should leave right now! I'll take the…' He whirled around and stared at the cove. 'Oh, God,' he whispered, 'but I can't. I'm trapped here… trapped…'
'No,' I replied, raising a hand to my temples as if formulating a rapid and brilliant scheme. 'There might be another option.'
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.'
'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.'
Don't Mean Nothing
The atmosphere in the hospital tent was the kind where you feel uncomfortable if you cough or make a hurried movement. Contemplative, detached; I felt like I was in a temple. Even more so because I was praying.
'Die,' went the prayer. 'Make this breath the last one.'
But every time, Christo would breathe again. Despite all the odds, despite the achingly long gaps, his chest would suddenly inflate and deflate. He'd still be alive, and the waiting would start all over again.
For much of the time, I studied Jed. He looked strange because his hair and beard were completely slick, flattened down with blood and sweat. I could see the shape of his head in a way I never had before. It was more angular than I'd imagined. Smaller, and where his scalp showed between the wet curls, shockingly white.
He didn't look at me once, neither had he acknowledged my presence when I climbed in. His eyes were set on Christo's calm face, and weren't going to budge until they were good and ready. Christo's face, I noticed, was just about the only clean thing in the tent. Under his chin you could see the dark smear-marks where Jed had wiped him down, and by the time you reached his neck you couldn't see past the dirt to his skin.
Another thing that caught my attention was that a little bag –which had been sitting just to the right of Jed until yesterday – was now gone. Karl's bag. I'd known it was his because peeking out of its top flap had been the Nike swim-shorts he sometimes wore. Although the missing bag was my only evidence, and remains my only evidence, I felt sure that Karl must have visited Christo before he left. I liked that idea. Visiting his friend, taking his bag, stealing the boat. Cured all right.
Time passed much faster than I estimated. When I looked at my watch I was expecting it to read four thirty, but instead it read five ten. I'd been in there for a whole hour. Forty minutes; that's a long way out. But watching Christo was absorbing. It set my mind thinking about stuff like the afterlife, because there was something about the way Christo was dying that made an afterlife seem particularly unlikely. It's hard to explain what the something was. His eyes maybe, which were slightly open even though he was obviously unconscious. The two glittering slits made him look so dysfunctional. Just a machine that, for whatever reason, happened to be packing in.
When I saw my watch, I realized I had to go. The rest of the camp would be returning soon, so I decided that I had no choice but to break the temple atmosphere.
'Jed,' I said in a soothing, priestly manner. 'There's something we should talk about.'
'You're leaving,' he said bluntly.
'…Yes.'
'When?'
'Tonight… Tonight, when everyone's crashed out after Tet. Will you come?'
'If Christo is dead.'
'…And if he isn't?'
'I'll stay.'
I bit the inside of my lip. 'You understand that unless you come tonight, there'll be no way off the island.'
'Mmm.'
'You'll be stuck here with whatever's coming. And the problem isn't going to be more travellers turning up. Karl's taken the boat. If he contacts his family or Sten and Christo's families…'
'It isn't the Thai police that are coming.'
'…And when Sal finds out we're gone tomorrow, the shit's going to…'
'It's already hit.'
'…I won't be able to wait for you.'
'I don't expect you to.'
'I want you to come.'
'I know.'
'And do you know that it makes zero difference to Christo if you're here or not? Do you know that too? With the amount of oxygen he's taking in, most of his brain has already shut down.'
'He isn't dead until he stops breathing.'
'OK…' I thought hard for a couple of seconds. 'So what if we stop him breathing. We could cover up his mouth. It would only take five minutes.'
'No.'
'You don't have to do it. I'll do it for you. You could hold his hand or something. It would be a nice way for him to go. It would be very tranquil and…'
'Fuck it, Richard!' Jed snapped, spinning his head round and looking at me for the first time. But as soon as he did so, his expression softened. I was biting my lip again. I didn't like Jed shouting at me.
'Look,' he said. 'Christo should be dead by tonight, so I should be able to come with you.'
'But…'
'Now why don't you go? I don't think Sal would like it if you were in here.'
'…No, but…'
'You'll check on me before you leave.'
I sighed. Jed turned back to Christo. I stuck around for a minute or so, then backed out of the tent.
Outside, I saw Keaty scurrying off towards the Khyber Pass with an armful of something soggy and unrecognizable in his arms. When he came back I asked him what he was doing.
'I took the dope out of the cooking pots,' he explained, drying his sticky chest with a T-shirt. He smelt of lemon grass and his hands were shaking.
'What?'
'I had to. It kept floating to the surface. Unhygienix would have seen it immediately. But it was in there for an hour so…'
'Your shorts,' I said.
'Shorts?'
'They're covered in stew. Go and change them.'
His eyes flicked down. 'Shit!'
'Just go and change them. It's no big deal.'
'Change them. Right.'
Before he'd returned, the rest of the camp began pouring into the clearing. Singing, laughing, arm in arm. Tet was about to kick off.
'Die,' went the prayer. 'Make this breath the last one.'
But every time, Christo would breathe again. Despite all the odds, despite the achingly long gaps, his chest would suddenly inflate and deflate. He'd still be alive, and the waiting would start all over again.
For much of the time, I studied Jed. He looked strange because his hair and beard were completely slick, flattened down with blood and sweat. I could see the shape of his head in a way I never had before. It was more angular than I'd imagined. Smaller, and where his scalp showed between the wet curls, shockingly white.
He didn't look at me once, neither had he acknowledged my presence when I climbed in. His eyes were set on Christo's calm face, and weren't going to budge until they were good and ready. Christo's face, I noticed, was just about the only clean thing in the tent. Under his chin you could see the dark smear-marks where Jed had wiped him down, and by the time you reached his neck you couldn't see past the dirt to his skin.
Another thing that caught my attention was that a little bag –which had been sitting just to the right of Jed until yesterday – was now gone. Karl's bag. I'd known it was his because peeking out of its top flap had been the Nike swim-shorts he sometimes wore. Although the missing bag was my only evidence, and remains my only evidence, I felt sure that Karl must have visited Christo before he left. I liked that idea. Visiting his friend, taking his bag, stealing the boat. Cured all right.
Time passed much faster than I estimated. When I looked at my watch I was expecting it to read four thirty, but instead it read five ten. I'd been in there for a whole hour. Forty minutes; that's a long way out. But watching Christo was absorbing. It set my mind thinking about stuff like the afterlife, because there was something about the way Christo was dying that made an afterlife seem particularly unlikely. It's hard to explain what the something was. His eyes maybe, which were slightly open even though he was obviously unconscious. The two glittering slits made him look so dysfunctional. Just a machine that, for whatever reason, happened to be packing in.
When I saw my watch, I realized I had to go. The rest of the camp would be returning soon, so I decided that I had no choice but to break the temple atmosphere.
'Jed,' I said in a soothing, priestly manner. 'There's something we should talk about.'
'You're leaving,' he said bluntly.
'…Yes.'
'When?'
'Tonight… Tonight, when everyone's crashed out after Tet. Will you come?'
'If Christo is dead.'
'…And if he isn't?'
'I'll stay.'
I bit the inside of my lip. 'You understand that unless you come tonight, there'll be no way off the island.'
'Mmm.'
'You'll be stuck here with whatever's coming. And the problem isn't going to be more travellers turning up. Karl's taken the boat. If he contacts his family or Sten and Christo's families…'
'It isn't the Thai police that are coming.'
'…And when Sal finds out we're gone tomorrow, the shit's going to…'
'It's already hit.'
'…I won't be able to wait for you.'
'I don't expect you to.'
'I want you to come.'
'I know.'
'And do you know that it makes zero difference to Christo if you're here or not? Do you know that too? With the amount of oxygen he's taking in, most of his brain has already shut down.'
'He isn't dead until he stops breathing.'
'OK…' I thought hard for a couple of seconds. 'So what if we stop him breathing. We could cover up his mouth. It would only take five minutes.'
'No.'
'You don't have to do it. I'll do it for you. You could hold his hand or something. It would be a nice way for him to go. It would be very tranquil and…'
'Fuck it, Richard!' Jed snapped, spinning his head round and looking at me for the first time. But as soon as he did so, his expression softened. I was biting my lip again. I didn't like Jed shouting at me.
'Look,' he said. 'Christo should be dead by tonight, so I should be able to come with you.'
'But…'
'Now why don't you go? I don't think Sal would like it if you were in here.'
'…No, but…'
'You'll check on me before you leave.'
I sighed. Jed turned back to Christo. I stuck around for a minute or so, then backed out of the tent.
Outside, I saw Keaty scurrying off towards the Khyber Pass with an armful of something soggy and unrecognizable in his arms. When he came back I asked him what he was doing.
'I took the dope out of the cooking pots,' he explained, drying his sticky chest with a T-shirt. He smelt of lemon grass and his hands were shaking.
'What?'
'I had to. It kept floating to the surface. Unhygienix would have seen it immediately. But it was in there for an hour so…'
'Your shorts,' I said.
'Shorts?'
'They're covered in stew. Go and change them.'
His eyes flicked down. 'Shit!'
'Just go and change them. It's no big deal.'
'Change them. Right.'
Before he'd returned, the rest of the camp began pouring into the clearing. Singing, laughing, arm in arm. Tet was about to kick off.
Potchentong
Take a green coconut, still up in the tree, and cut a small incision in its base. Under the incision, hang a flask to catch the dripping milk. Then leave it for a few hours. When you come back, you'll find that the milk has fermented and that if you drink it you'll get pissed. A neat trick. It tastes OK; a bit sugary, but OK. I was surprised I'd never seen it done before.
Thanks to the gardeners, we all had coconut-shell cups filled with the moonshine beer. 'Down in one!' Bugs was shouting. 'Down the hatch!' And people had fizzy juice running over their chins and chests. Françoise was eyeing Keaty, and Étienne was eyeing me, and we had more running over our chins than anyone else.
Bugs finished his cup first and kicked it into the jungle like it was a football. It must have fucking hurt, like kicking a lump of wood. But the idea caught on and just about everyone had a crack, and soon the clearing was filled up with people hopping around, clutching a foot, giggling like crazy. 'Hopping mad,' I said to Keaty, but he didn't get the joke.
'Sal keeps staring at me,' he whispered. 'She knows something. Should I kick the coconut? What if I break my foot? Would you leave me behi…' He interrupted himself by dropping the shell and punting it. His face screwed up with the pain and he let out a yell louder than all the others. 'Did it,' he gasped. 'Is she still looking?' I shook my head. She never had been looking anyway.
When Jean began to produce a second round of drinks, I manoeuvred myself around to where Françoise and Étienne were standing. I partly did it to get away from Keaty, whose jumpiness didn't seem helped by my presence. I think it reminded him of what was going on.
Françoise was putting in a great performance. If she was feeling the tension, I'd never have guessed it. Externally, she seemed to be in the party spirit one hundred per cent. When I walked up she gave me a flamboyant hug and a kiss on each cheek, and loudly said, 'This is all so wonderful!'
'I mentally congratulated her. She was even taking the performance through to slightly slurring her words, and not overdoing it either. Getting it exactly right.
'Can I have a kiss too?' said Jesse, nudging one of the carpenters.
'No,' Françoise replied with a dizzy smile. 'You are too ugly.'
Jesse clasped one hand to his heart and the other to his forehead. 'I'm too ugly! I'm too ugly for a kiss!'
'That's right,' said Cassie. 'You are.' She gave him her beer. 'Here. You'd better drown your sorrows.'
'I think I should!' Tipping his head back, he drained the liquid in one slurp and tossed the empty vessel behind him. 'But you still love me, don't you, Caz?'
'Not when you call me Caz, Jez.'
'Caz!' he howled. 'Caz! Jez! Caz!' Then he scooped her up in his arms and began staggering off towards the longhouse.
A couple of minutes later Étienne was called over to help carry the food to the eating area, and Françoise and I were left alone. She said something to me, but I didn't catch it because I was concentrating on something else. By the kitchen hut I'd seen Unhygienix tasting some of the stew with a puzzled frown.
'You are not listening to me,' Françoise said.
Unhygienix shrugged and began organizing the cooking-pot carriers.
'You never listen to me any more. Before, if I was talking to you, you would always listen. But now you have no time to even talk to me.'
'Yeah… Has Keaty told you not to eat the stew?'
'Richard!'
I frowned. 'What?'
'You are not listening to me!'
'…Oh. Well, I'm sorry. I've got a lot on my mind.'
'Not me.'
'Huh?'
'I am not on your mind.'
'Uh… Of course you are.'
'I am not.' She poked me in the ribs. 'I think you do not love me any more.'
I looked at her in astonishment.' …Are you serious?'
'Very serious,' she said petulantly
'But… I mean… Do we have to talk about this right now? I mean, of all times, does it have to be right now?'
'Yes. It must be now. Étienne is not here, and maybe soon I will never see you agai…'
'Françoise!' I hissed. 'Keep it down!'
'Maybe I should keep it down, but maybe I should not. In the dope field, when I would not be quiet, you pushed me to the ground and held me tightly.' She giggled. 'It was very exciting.'
With a quick look around, I linked my arm in her elbow and began propelling her away towards the edge of the clearing. Once we were out of sight of the others I turned her round, held her head between my hands, and looked carefully at her pupils. They were all over the place. 'Oh my God,' I said furiously. 'You're drunk.'
'Yes,' she admitted. 'I am. It was this potchentong.'
'Potchentong? What the fuck are you talking about?'
'Jean calls the drink potchentong. It is not the real potchentong, but…'
'How much have you had?'
'Three cups.'
'Three? When?'
'With the football. The game.'
'You idiot! '
'I had no choice! They were passing around the shell, and you had to drink it all. They were watching and clapping, so what could I do?'
'Christ! Did Étienne drink some too?'
'Yes. Three cups.'
I closed my eyes and counted to ten. Or meant to. That shit never works. I stopped when I was on about four.
'Right,' I said. 'Come with me.'
'Where are we going?'
'Over here.'
Françoise gasped as I pulled her behind a tree.
'Open your mouth,' I instructed.
'Are you going to kiss me?'
The infuriating thing is I'm sure that if I had tried to kiss her, she'd have let me. She was that drunk. But I had to shake my head.
'No, Françoise,' I replied. 'Not exactly.'
She bit my fingers really fucking hard when I stuck them down her throat. And she struggled and squirmed like a snake. But I was holding her with a vice-grip around her neck, and once the fingers were in, there wasn't a lot she could do about it.
After she'd finished throwing up, she slapped me in the face, which I accepted. Then she said, 'I could have done that myself.'
I shrugged. 'I didn't have time for an argument. Are you feeling more sober now?'
She spat.' …Yes.'
'Good. Now go and wash yourself down in the waterfall stream and then discreetly make your way back to the clearing. And don't touch a drop of potchentong.' I paused. 'Or the stew.'
When I returned to the party, Étienne had finished helping carry the food and was standing alone, probably looking for Françoise. I walked straight up to him. 'Hi,' I said. 'Are you drunk?'
He nodded unhappily. 'The potchentong… They made me drink it and…'
'I heard,' I said, and tutted with sympathy. 'Strong stuff, huh?'
'Very strong.'
'Well, no worries. Just come with me.'
Thanks to the gardeners, we all had coconut-shell cups filled with the moonshine beer. 'Down in one!' Bugs was shouting. 'Down the hatch!' And people had fizzy juice running over their chins and chests. Françoise was eyeing Keaty, and Étienne was eyeing me, and we had more running over our chins than anyone else.
Bugs finished his cup first and kicked it into the jungle like it was a football. It must have fucking hurt, like kicking a lump of wood. But the idea caught on and just about everyone had a crack, and soon the clearing was filled up with people hopping around, clutching a foot, giggling like crazy. 'Hopping mad,' I said to Keaty, but he didn't get the joke.
'Sal keeps staring at me,' he whispered. 'She knows something. Should I kick the coconut? What if I break my foot? Would you leave me behi…' He interrupted himself by dropping the shell and punting it. His face screwed up with the pain and he let out a yell louder than all the others. 'Did it,' he gasped. 'Is she still looking?' I shook my head. She never had been looking anyway.
When Jean began to produce a second round of drinks, I manoeuvred myself around to where Françoise and Étienne were standing. I partly did it to get away from Keaty, whose jumpiness didn't seem helped by my presence. I think it reminded him of what was going on.
Françoise was putting in a great performance. If she was feeling the tension, I'd never have guessed it. Externally, she seemed to be in the party spirit one hundred per cent. When I walked up she gave me a flamboyant hug and a kiss on each cheek, and loudly said, 'This is all so wonderful!'
'I mentally congratulated her. She was even taking the performance through to slightly slurring her words, and not overdoing it either. Getting it exactly right.
'Can I have a kiss too?' said Jesse, nudging one of the carpenters.
'No,' Françoise replied with a dizzy smile. 'You are too ugly.'
Jesse clasped one hand to his heart and the other to his forehead. 'I'm too ugly! I'm too ugly for a kiss!'
'That's right,' said Cassie. 'You are.' She gave him her beer. 'Here. You'd better drown your sorrows.'
'I think I should!' Tipping his head back, he drained the liquid in one slurp and tossed the empty vessel behind him. 'But you still love me, don't you, Caz?'
'Not when you call me Caz, Jez.'
'Caz!' he howled. 'Caz! Jez! Caz!' Then he scooped her up in his arms and began staggering off towards the longhouse.
A couple of minutes later Étienne was called over to help carry the food to the eating area, and Françoise and I were left alone. She said something to me, but I didn't catch it because I was concentrating on something else. By the kitchen hut I'd seen Unhygienix tasting some of the stew with a puzzled frown.
'You are not listening to me,' Françoise said.
Unhygienix shrugged and began organizing the cooking-pot carriers.
'You never listen to me any more. Before, if I was talking to you, you would always listen. But now you have no time to even talk to me.'
'Yeah… Has Keaty told you not to eat the stew?'
'Richard!'
I frowned. 'What?'
'You are not listening to me!'
'…Oh. Well, I'm sorry. I've got a lot on my mind.'
'Not me.'
'Huh?'
'I am not on your mind.'
'Uh… Of course you are.'
'I am not.' She poked me in the ribs. 'I think you do not love me any more.'
I looked at her in astonishment.' …Are you serious?'
'Very serious,' she said petulantly
'But… I mean… Do we have to talk about this right now? I mean, of all times, does it have to be right now?'
'Yes. It must be now. Étienne is not here, and maybe soon I will never see you agai…'
'Françoise!' I hissed. 'Keep it down!'
'Maybe I should keep it down, but maybe I should not. In the dope field, when I would not be quiet, you pushed me to the ground and held me tightly.' She giggled. 'It was very exciting.'
With a quick look around, I linked my arm in her elbow and began propelling her away towards the edge of the clearing. Once we were out of sight of the others I turned her round, held her head between my hands, and looked carefully at her pupils. They were all over the place. 'Oh my God,' I said furiously. 'You're drunk.'
'Yes,' she admitted. 'I am. It was this potchentong.'
'Potchentong? What the fuck are you talking about?'
'Jean calls the drink potchentong. It is not the real potchentong, but…'
'How much have you had?'
'Three cups.'
'Three? When?'
'With the football. The game.'
'You idiot! '
'I had no choice! They were passing around the shell, and you had to drink it all. They were watching and clapping, so what could I do?'
'Christ! Did Étienne drink some too?'
'Yes. Three cups.'
I closed my eyes and counted to ten. Or meant to. That shit never works. I stopped when I was on about four.
'Right,' I said. 'Come with me.'
'Where are we going?'
'Over here.'
Françoise gasped as I pulled her behind a tree.
'Open your mouth,' I instructed.
'Are you going to kiss me?'
The infuriating thing is I'm sure that if I had tried to kiss her, she'd have let me. She was that drunk. But I had to shake my head.
'No, Françoise,' I replied. 'Not exactly.'
She bit my fingers really fucking hard when I stuck them down her throat. And she struggled and squirmed like a snake. But I was holding her with a vice-grip around her neck, and once the fingers were in, there wasn't a lot she could do about it.
After she'd finished throwing up, she slapped me in the face, which I accepted. Then she said, 'I could have done that myself.'
I shrugged. 'I didn't have time for an argument. Are you feeling more sober now?'
She spat.' …Yes.'
'Good. Now go and wash yourself down in the waterfall stream and then discreetly make your way back to the clearing. And don't touch a drop of potchentong.' I paused. 'Or the stew.'
When I returned to the party, Étienne had finished helping carry the food and was standing alone, probably looking for Françoise. I walked straight up to him. 'Hi,' I said. 'Are you drunk?'
He nodded unhappily. 'The potchentong… They made me drink it and…'
'I heard,' I said, and tutted with sympathy. 'Strong stuff, huh?'
'Very strong.'
'Well, no worries. Just come with me.'
A Loose End
The layout was simple. Concentric circles under the marquee, the first a ring of candles, the second our banana-leaf plates, the third our seated selves, and the fourth a final ring of candles. It looked spectacular and terrifying. Orange faces, flickering light, diffused through clouds of dope smoke. And such a level of noise. People weren't talking, they were shouting. Sometimes screaming. Nothing more than jokes or requests to pass the rice pot, but it sounded like screaming.
I'd made us all sit together. Keeping us together made it easier all round. We were able to get rid of our stew more easily and it kept Keaty and Françoise contained between me and Étienne. It also meant that our relative temperance was less likely to be noticed, something that was fast turning into a problem. Keaty had picked up on it first, a little under an hour after we'd started to eat.
'I told you they'd trip,' he said. With the racket as a backdrop, he didn't even have to whisper. 'You put way too much in.'
'You think they're actually tripping?'
'Maybe not seeing stuff, but…'
I looked over at Sal, who was directly opposite me in the circle. Strangely, despite the din, she looked like someone in an old silent movie. Sepia-toned, flickering, twisted lips with no discernible sounds coming out. Frozen lips. Arched eyebrows. She must have been laughing.
'…But yeah, they're tripping,' Keaty finished. 'Either that or I am.'
Unhygienix appeared behind us. 'More stew!' he shouted.
I raised a hand. 'So full! Can't eat more!'
'Yes! Eat more!' He reached over and ladled a huge dollop in front of me. It poured over the edges of my banana leaf like a lava flow, smothering rice grains, taking them with it. Little people in the lava, I thought, and suddenly felt like I was tripping too. I gave Unhygienix the thumbs up, and he continued on his rounds.
A half-hour later, around quarter to nine, I excused myself on the pretext of a piss. I did need a piss as it happened, but mainly I wanted to check up on Jed. With the way things were going, I couldn't see the manic level being sustained later than midnight, so I wanted to know if our problem was resolved yet.
I relieved myself outside the hospital tent. Bad form in normal circumstances, but civic responsibility wasn't high on my list of priorities any more. Then I stuck my head through the flaps. To my amazement, Jed was asleep. He was in the same spot he'd been in earlier that day, but keeled over on his side. He'd probably been awake all the previous night.
Even more amazing was that Christo was still alive, doing his pitiful inflate-deflate thing. So slight I'd be hard put to call it a genuine breath.
'Jed,' I said, and he didn't stir. I said it louder, again with no response. Next a huge cheer came from the marquee. It lasted a pretty long time, and when Jed still hadn't stirred I knew I had the golden opportunity.
I reached Christo's head by simply sliding around the left-hand side of the tent. Then, just as I'd suggested earlier, I pinched his nose and covered his mouth. There was no twitching, no resistance. A few minutes later I took my hands away, counted to one hundred and twenty and slid back to the cool outdoors. And that was it. It really was that simple.
As I returned across the clearing, clicking my fingers in time with my footsteps, I saw the reason for the cheering I'd heard. Both the Yugoslavian girls were in the central circle of candles, heads resting on each other's shoulder, slow dancing to the buzz of noise.
I'd made us all sit together. Keeping us together made it easier all round. We were able to get rid of our stew more easily and it kept Keaty and Françoise contained between me and Étienne. It also meant that our relative temperance was less likely to be noticed, something that was fast turning into a problem. Keaty had picked up on it first, a little under an hour after we'd started to eat.
'I told you they'd trip,' he said. With the racket as a backdrop, he didn't even have to whisper. 'You put way too much in.'
'You think they're actually tripping?'
'Maybe not seeing stuff, but…'
I looked over at Sal, who was directly opposite me in the circle. Strangely, despite the din, she looked like someone in an old silent movie. Sepia-toned, flickering, twisted lips with no discernible sounds coming out. Frozen lips. Arched eyebrows. She must have been laughing.
'…But yeah, they're tripping,' Keaty finished. 'Either that or I am.'
Unhygienix appeared behind us. 'More stew!' he shouted.
I raised a hand. 'So full! Can't eat more!'
'Yes! Eat more!' He reached over and ladled a huge dollop in front of me. It poured over the edges of my banana leaf like a lava flow, smothering rice grains, taking them with it. Little people in the lava, I thought, and suddenly felt like I was tripping too. I gave Unhygienix the thumbs up, and he continued on his rounds.
A half-hour later, around quarter to nine, I excused myself on the pretext of a piss. I did need a piss as it happened, but mainly I wanted to check up on Jed. With the way things were going, I couldn't see the manic level being sustained later than midnight, so I wanted to know if our problem was resolved yet.
I relieved myself outside the hospital tent. Bad form in normal circumstances, but civic responsibility wasn't high on my list of priorities any more. Then I stuck my head through the flaps. To my amazement, Jed was asleep. He was in the same spot he'd been in earlier that day, but keeled over on his side. He'd probably been awake all the previous night.
Even more amazing was that Christo was still alive, doing his pitiful inflate-deflate thing. So slight I'd be hard put to call it a genuine breath.
'Jed,' I said, and he didn't stir. I said it louder, again with no response. Next a huge cheer came from the marquee. It lasted a pretty long time, and when Jed still hadn't stirred I knew I had the golden opportunity.
I reached Christo's head by simply sliding around the left-hand side of the tent. Then, just as I'd suggested earlier, I pinched his nose and covered his mouth. There was no twitching, no resistance. A few minutes later I took my hands away, counted to one hundred and twenty and slid back to the cool outdoors. And that was it. It really was that simple.
As I returned across the clearing, clicking my fingers in time with my footsteps, I saw the reason for the cheering I'd heard. Both the Yugoslavian girls were in the central circle of candles, heads resting on each other's shoulder, slow dancing to the buzz of noise.
Something Happening Here
By the time I'd retaken my seat, the Yugoslavian girls had inspired some of the others. Sal and Bugs started dancing too, then Unhygienix and Ella, then Jesse and Cassie.
I may have had a few screws loose, but I was able to recognize this as a nice moment. Watching the four couples revolving around each other reminded me of the way things used to be on the beach. Even Sal seemed at peace, all her plans and manipulations pushed aside for the time being, aware of nothing more than straightforward affection for her lover. In fact, Sal looked like a completely different person. None of her confidence was apparent in her dancing. Her steps were tentative and slow, and she clung to Bugs with both arms, head pressed flat against his chest.
'You do not recognize her,' Gregorio said to me, having followed the direction of my gaze. While I'd been killing Christo, he'd taken my place so he could chat to Keaty. 'You have never seen her like this.'
'No… I haven't.'
'You know why?'
'No.'
'Because tonight it is Tet, and Sal will only smoke or drink on Tet. The rest of the year, her mind is always clear, all hours in the day. We get high, but she keeps her mind clear for us.'
'She cares very much about the beach.'
'Very much,' Greg echoed. 'Of course.' He smiled and stood up. 'I will get us more coconut beer. You would like some?'
Both Keaty and I said no.
'Just for me then?' 'Just for you.'
He ambled off towards the fishing buckets, which held the last of Jean's moonshine.
Ten o'clock. The dancing had stopped. Moshe was standing where the dancers had been, holding a candle up in one hand, the other hand touching the side of his face. I didn't know if anyone else was taking an interest in him, but I was. 'This flame,' he said, as hot wax ran on to his wrist and down the length of his arm, forming a slim stalactite on his elbow. 'Look.'
'Look,' said Étienne, gesturing to Cassie. She was also studying the candle-flames, crouched over with an expression of rapt pleasure. Jesse was next to her, muttering something in her ear that made her jaw drop. Behind them, Jean sat with his back to one of the bamboo poles, covering his eyes with his fingers, removing them, and blinking like a baby kitten.
' 'Night John-Boy,' called one of the Aussie carpenters.
Six or seven people provided names, all at once. A ripple of laughter spread beneath the marquee.' 'Night Sal,' Ella called, above the competing voices. 'Night Sal, 'night Sal, 'night Sal.'
Soon Ella's cue became a soft chant that lasted as long as the cigarette I was smoking. Then Sal replied, 'Thank you, children,' and the ripple of laughter spread again.
A few minutes later, the carpenter who had called out 'John-Boy' said, 'Is anyone else seeing shit?' When no one answered he added, 'I'm seeing all kinds of shit over here.'
'Potchentong,' sang Jean, like a tolling bell.
Moshe dropped the candle.
'Seriously, guys, I'm seeing all kinds of shit.'
'Potchentong.'
'Did you put mushrooms in the potchentong?'
'This flame,' said Moshe. 'This flame burned me.' He began pulling the line of wax from his arm.
'Moshe's losing his fucking skin…'
'…I am losing my skin?'
'Losing his skin!'
'Potchen-fucking-tong…'
I leant over to Keaty. 'This can't be just the dope,' I whispered. 'Even eating it, dope wouldn't do this, would it?'
He wiped beads of sweat off the back of his neck. 'They're all crazy. It's worse being straight. It's doing my fucking head in just watching them.'
'Yes,' said Étienne. 'Really, I do not like this. When can we go?'
I checked my watch for the fifteenth time in as many minutes. To the extent that I'd thought it out, I'd imagined leaving at around two or three a.m., when there'd be a bit of light creeping in to the sky. But Étienne was right. I didn't like the way things were either, and at a pinch, we could probably set off while it was still dark.
'Give it an hour,' I said. 'I think we might be able to leave in an hour.'
I may have had a few screws loose, but I was able to recognize this as a nice moment. Watching the four couples revolving around each other reminded me of the way things used to be on the beach. Even Sal seemed at peace, all her plans and manipulations pushed aside for the time being, aware of nothing more than straightforward affection for her lover. In fact, Sal looked like a completely different person. None of her confidence was apparent in her dancing. Her steps were tentative and slow, and she clung to Bugs with both arms, head pressed flat against his chest.
'You do not recognize her,' Gregorio said to me, having followed the direction of my gaze. While I'd been killing Christo, he'd taken my place so he could chat to Keaty. 'You have never seen her like this.'
'No… I haven't.'
'You know why?'
'No.'
'Because tonight it is Tet, and Sal will only smoke or drink on Tet. The rest of the year, her mind is always clear, all hours in the day. We get high, but she keeps her mind clear for us.'
'She cares very much about the beach.'
'Very much,' Greg echoed. 'Of course.' He smiled and stood up. 'I will get us more coconut beer. You would like some?'
Both Keaty and I said no.
'Just for me then?' 'Just for you.'
He ambled off towards the fishing buckets, which held the last of Jean's moonshine.
Ten o'clock. The dancing had stopped. Moshe was standing where the dancers had been, holding a candle up in one hand, the other hand touching the side of his face. I didn't know if anyone else was taking an interest in him, but I was. 'This flame,' he said, as hot wax ran on to his wrist and down the length of his arm, forming a slim stalactite on his elbow. 'Look.'
'Look,' said Étienne, gesturing to Cassie. She was also studying the candle-flames, crouched over with an expression of rapt pleasure. Jesse was next to her, muttering something in her ear that made her jaw drop. Behind them, Jean sat with his back to one of the bamboo poles, covering his eyes with his fingers, removing them, and blinking like a baby kitten.
' 'Night John-Boy,' called one of the Aussie carpenters.
Six or seven people provided names, all at once. A ripple of laughter spread beneath the marquee.' 'Night Sal,' Ella called, above the competing voices. 'Night Sal, 'night Sal, 'night Sal.'
Soon Ella's cue became a soft chant that lasted as long as the cigarette I was smoking. Then Sal replied, 'Thank you, children,' and the ripple of laughter spread again.
A few minutes later, the carpenter who had called out 'John-Boy' said, 'Is anyone else seeing shit?' When no one answered he added, 'I'm seeing all kinds of shit over here.'
'Potchentong,' sang Jean, like a tolling bell.
Moshe dropped the candle.
'Seriously, guys, I'm seeing all kinds of shit.'
'Potchentong.'
'Did you put mushrooms in the potchentong?'
'This flame,' said Moshe. 'This flame burned me.' He began pulling the line of wax from his arm.
'Moshe's losing his fucking skin…'
'…I am losing my skin?'
'Losing his skin!'
'Potchen-fucking-tong…'
I leant over to Keaty. 'This can't be just the dope,' I whispered. 'Even eating it, dope wouldn't do this, would it?'
He wiped beads of sweat off the back of his neck. 'They're all crazy. It's worse being straight. It's doing my fucking head in just watching them.'
'Yes,' said Étienne. 'Really, I do not like this. When can we go?'
I checked my watch for the fifteenth time in as many minutes. To the extent that I'd thought it out, I'd imagined leaving at around two or three a.m., when there'd be a bit of light creeping in to the sky. But Étienne was right. I didn't like the way things were either, and at a pinch, we could probably set off while it was still dark.
'Give it an hour,' I said. 'I think we might be able to leave in an hour.'
What It Is Ain't Exactly Clear
But an hour was no good. At ten thirty, things started to go wrong.
Up until then I'd felt I was in control of the situation. Perhaps I even was in control of the situation. A number of difficulties –Françoise drunk, Christo breathing – had been solved; we'd got through the meal without anyone noticing that we were throwing our stew away; aside from Jed, there were no further loose ends to be tied; Tet was winding down. All we had to do was bide our time and then make our move.
But at ten thirty Mister Duck appeared in the marquee, and I knew I had a problem.
He appeared out of the shadows, stepping over the outer ring of candles. Then walked over to Sal and Bugs, and after acknowledging me with a vague grin, sat down beside them.
'Where are you going?' said Françoise, as I stood up. It was the first thing she'd said in a while. Since the dancing she'd been lying with her head in Étienne's lap, staring intently at the sheets on the marquee. From her colour I'd assumed she was feeling the effects of her afternoon boozing, but when she spoke I realized that she was also scared. Obviously, considering the circumstances, but I wasn't in a very empathic frame of mind. Neither was I in the right frame of mind to reassure anyone.
'We could be fucked,' I said, stupidly speaking my thoughts out loud.
Étienne began looking around. 'What? What is it?'
'…I've got to check something out. The three of you don't move from this spot. Clear?'
'Not fucking clear.' Keaty caught me by the leg. 'What's going on, Richard?'
'I've got to do something.'
'You're going nowhere unless you tell me what's going on.'. '
'Let go of my leg. Greg is watching us.'
Keaty squeezed tighter. 'I don't care. You tell us what the fuck…'
I bent down and clamped my fingers on the soft underside of Keaty's wrist, blocking the blood. A couple of seconds later his hand fell away.
'Hi,' I said to Sal.
'Richard,' she replied happily. 'Richard, my right-hand man. How are you, right-hand man?'
'Left-handed. I've started seeing fucked-up stuff.' The last words were directed at Mister Duck, who seemed amused.
'Sit down with us.'
'I need to get some cigarettes from the longhouse.'
'If you were sitting with us…' Sal drifted off briefly, then picked up the thread. 'I'd know that you and Bugs were friends again.'
'We are friends.'
Mister Duck guffawed, but Bugs nodded, full of dreamy goodwill. 'Yeah, man,' he said. 'All friends here.'
'It was… this was the last thing I was worried about… I needed you two to be friends…'
Up until then I'd felt I was in control of the situation. Perhaps I even was in control of the situation. A number of difficulties –Françoise drunk, Christo breathing – had been solved; we'd got through the meal without anyone noticing that we were throwing our stew away; aside from Jed, there were no further loose ends to be tied; Tet was winding down. All we had to do was bide our time and then make our move.
But at ten thirty Mister Duck appeared in the marquee, and I knew I had a problem.
He appeared out of the shadows, stepping over the outer ring of candles. Then walked over to Sal and Bugs, and after acknowledging me with a vague grin, sat down beside them.
'Where are you going?' said Françoise, as I stood up. It was the first thing she'd said in a while. Since the dancing she'd been lying with her head in Étienne's lap, staring intently at the sheets on the marquee. From her colour I'd assumed she was feeling the effects of her afternoon boozing, but when she spoke I realized that she was also scared. Obviously, considering the circumstances, but I wasn't in a very empathic frame of mind. Neither was I in the right frame of mind to reassure anyone.
'We could be fucked,' I said, stupidly speaking my thoughts out loud.
Étienne began looking around. 'What? What is it?'
'…I've got to check something out. The three of you don't move from this spot. Clear?'
'Not fucking clear.' Keaty caught me by the leg. 'What's going on, Richard?'
'I've got to do something.'
'You're going nowhere unless you tell me what's going on.'. '
'Let go of my leg. Greg is watching us.'
Keaty squeezed tighter. 'I don't care. You tell us what the fuck…'
I bent down and clamped my fingers on the soft underside of Keaty's wrist, blocking the blood. A couple of seconds later his hand fell away.
'Hi,' I said to Sal.
'Richard,' she replied happily. 'Richard, my right-hand man. How are you, right-hand man?'
'Left-handed. I've started seeing fucked-up stuff.' The last words were directed at Mister Duck, who seemed amused.
'Sit down with us.'
'I need to get some cigarettes from the longhouse.'
'If you were sitting with us…' Sal drifted off briefly, then picked up the thread. 'I'd know that you and Bugs were friends again.'
'We are friends.'
Mister Duck guffawed, but Bugs nodded, full of dreamy goodwill. 'Yeah, man,' he said. 'All friends here.'
'It was… this was the last thing I was worried about… I needed you two to be friends…'