The Beach

'Actually, I have noticed this since I was a small child.'

'A small child?'

'Yes. Certainly.'

Sammy whistled. 'Shit. I've only just noticed it. Mind you, that's mainly to do with where I grew up.'

'Oh?' said Etienne.

'See, I grew up in Idaho.'

'Ah…' Etienne nodded. Then he looked confused. 'Yes, Idaho. I have heard of Idaho, but…'

'Well, you know about Idaho, huh? There's no clouds in Idaho.'

'No clouds?'

'Sure. Chicago, the windy city. Idaho, the cloudless state. Some weird weather thing to do with atmospheric pressure, I don't know.'

'There are no clouds at all?'

'Not one.' Sammy sat up on the sand. 'I can remember the first time I saw a cloud. It was in upstate New York, the summer of seventy-nine. I saw this vast fluffy thing in the sky, and I reached and tried to grab it… but it was too high.' Sammy smiled sadly. 'I turned to my Mom and said, «Why can't I have the candy floss, Mommy? Why?» Sammy choked and looked away. 'I'm sorry. It's just a stupid memory.'

Zeph leant over and patted him on the back. 'Hey man,' he murmured, just loud enough to hear. 'It's OK. Let it out. We're all friends here.'

'Yes,' said Etienne. 'We don't mind. Of course, everybody has a sad memory.'

Sammy spun around, his face all screwed up. 'You, Etienne? You have a sad memory too?'

'Oh, yes. I used to have a little red bicycle, but it was stolen by some thieves.'

Sammy's expression darkened. 'The bicycle thieves? They stole your little red bike?'

'Yes. I was seven.'

'Seven! ' Sammy shouted and thumped the ground with his fist, spraying everyone with sand.' Jesus! That makes me so fucking mad!'

There was a shocked silence. Then Sammy grabbed the Rizlas and started furiously rolling up, and Zeph changed the topic of conversation.

The outburst was probably a clever move. Etienne's response had been so charming that it would have been cruel to reveal the truth. Sammy's only way out was to follow the bluff to its natural conclusion. As far as I know, Etienne believed there were no clouds in Idaho to the day he died.

By the time we'd smoked the joint, the sun had almost disappeared. Just the slightest curve of yellow shimmered over the sea. A slight breeze picked up, sending a few loose Rizlas skimming along the sand. With the breeze came the smell of cooking – lemon grass and fried shell-fish – from the restaurant behind us.

'I'm hungry,' I muttered.

'Smells good, huh?' said Zeph. 'I could do with a big plate of chicken noodles.'

'Or dog noodles,' said Sammy. He turned to Francoise. 'We had dog noodles in Chiang Mai. Tasted like chicken. All those things –dog, lizard, frog, snake. They always taste like chicken.'

'How about rat?' I asked.

'Uh-huh, rat too. Distinctly chicken-like.'

Zeph picked up a handful of sand and let it run through his fingers, trailing patterns between his legs. Then he coughed, almost in a formal way, as if he wanted everyone to pay attention. 'Hey,' he said. 'Do you know about Kentucky Fried Rat?'

I frowned. It sounded like another wind-up, and I felt that if Etienne was going to fall for it in the same kind of way I might start crying. I still had a picture in my head of his concerned face as he explained about his little red bike.

'No. What is it?' I said warily.

'It's one of those stories that get around.'

'Urban myths,' said Sammy. 'Someone got a small bone stuck in their throat. Then they got it analysed and it was a rat bone.'

'Yeah, and the person it happened to was a friend's aunt's cousin. It never happened to the person you're talking to.'

'Oh,' I said. 'I know.'

'Right. So there's a Kentucky Fried Rat doing the rounds at the moment. You heard it?'

I shook my head.

'About a beach. This amazing beach hidden somewhere, but no one knows where it is.'

I turned my head away. Down by the sea a Thai boy was playing with a piece of coconut husk, keeping it in the air using his knees and the sides of his feet. He timed a flick badly and the husk flew into the water. For a few moments he stood there with his hands on his hips, perhaps wondering if it was worth getting wet to retrieve it. Then he started jogging up the sand towards the guest-house.

'No,' I said. 'I haven't heard about that. Fill us in.'

'OK,' said Zeph. 'I'll paint you a picture.' He lay back on the sand. 'Close your eyes and think about a lagoon.'

Think about a lagoon, hidden from the sea and passing boats by a high, curving wall of rock. Then imagine white sands and coral gardens never damaged by dynamite fishing or trawling nets. Freshwater falls scatter the island, surrounded by jungle – not the forests of inland Thailand, but jungle. Canopies three levels deep, plants untouched for a thousand years, strangely coloured birds and monkeys in the trees.

On the white sands, fishing in the coral gardens, a select community of travellers pass the months. They leave if they want to, they return, the beach never changes.

'Select?' I asked quietly, as if talking through a dream. Zeph's vision had entirely consumed me.

'Select,' he replied. 'Word of mouth passes on the location to a lucky few.'

'It's paradise,' Sammy murmured. 'It's Eden.'

'Eden,' Zeph agreed, 'is how it sounds.'

Francoise was completely thrown by hearing that Sammy and Zeph also knew about the beach. She couldn't have acted more suspicious if she'd tried.

She stood up suddenly. 'Now then,' she said, dusting sand off her legs. 'We leave early tomorrow morning for, ah, for Ko Pha-Ngan. So I think we shall go to bed now. Etienne? Richard? Come.'

'Huh?' I said, disorientated as the image of the beach splintered. 'Francoise, it's seven thirty in the evening.'

'We leave early in the morning,' she repeated.

'But… I haven't eaten any dinner. I'm starving.'

'Good. So we shall eat now. Good night, Sammy and Zeph,' she said, before I could ask them to join us. 'It was very nice meeting you. And really, your beach, what a silly story.' She laughed gaily.

Etienne sat upright, looking at her as if she'd lost her mind, but she ignored his appalled expression and began marching towards the restaurant.

'Look,' I said to Sammy and Zeph. 'I think she's… If you want to eat with us…'

'Yes.' said Etienne. 'You are very welcome. Please.'

'It's cool,' Sammy replied, smiling slightly. 'We'll hang out here a bit longer. But listen, have a good time in Ko Pha-Ngan. Are you coming back this way?'

I nodded.

'OK, so we'll catch up later on. We're here for a while. A week at least.'

We all shook hands, then Etienne and I followed after Francoise.

Dinner was laden with heavy silences, sometimes broken by a terse exchange in French. But Francoise knew she'd acted foolishly, and was apologetic as we said good night.

'I do not know,' she explained. 'I was suddenly frightened they would want to come with us. Zeph made it sound so… I only want it to be us…' She frowned, frustrated by her inability to express herself. 'Do you think they have realized we know about the beach?'

I shrugged. 'Hard to say. Everyone was pretty stoned.'

Etienne nodded. 'Yes,' he said, and put his arm around her shoulder. 'Everyone was stoned. We should not worry.'

It took me a long time to get to sleep that night. It wasn't just because I was anxious about what might happen tomorrow, although that was part of it. I was also troubled by the hurried way I'd said goodbye to Zeph and Sammy. I'd enjoyed their company and knew it was unlikely I'd find them again, if I did come back to Ko Samui. Our parting had been too quick and awkward, too confused by dope and secrets. I felt there was something I'd left unsaid.