The Beach

'So we 're lucky again. I wonder how long it will last.'

'Mmm… I got some more grass by the way.'

'More? Richard, you…' Jed shook his head. '…We've got grass coming out of our ears. Every day you've brought some back.'

'People are smoking a lot at the moment.'

'We'd need all the hippies in Goa to smoke through your supplies, and if you take too much the guards might notice.'

I nodded. The same thought had crossed my mind, though with a different slant. I'd been hoping that my regular expeditions would get the guards on their toes. They were so pathetically easy to avoid that it made you wonder why they were there in the first place.

'So what about Christo?' I asked, changing the subject. 'Any developments with him?'

Jed rubbed his eyes. 'Yes. He's getting worse.'

'Delirious?'

'No, just in pain. If he's awake. He spends most of the time unconscious and he's running a bad fever. Without a thermometer it's hard to be sure, but it's higher than yesterday… To tell you the truth…' Jed lowered his voice, '…I'm getting seriously worried about him.'

I frowned. Christo looked OK to me. When I'd seen him in the daylight, the morning after rescuing him, I'd felt slightly let down by the undramatic nature of his injuries. Apart from a single cut on his arm – the cut I'd mistaken for a mouth – his only wound was a large bruise on his stomach from where the shark had rammed him. The injuries were so superficial that he'd walked around on the first day, trying to find Karl. He'd only collapsed on the second day, which we'd thought was a result of stress or possibly a relapse of the food poisoning.

'I mean,' Jed continued, 'the bruise should be going down, shouldn't it?'

'You're the doctor, Jed.'

'I'm not a fucking doctor. That's the point.'

I leant over to take a look. 'Well, it's blacker than it was. Not so purple. I think that means it's healing.'

'Do you know that for a fact?'

'Not for a fact, no.' I paused. 'I'm sure it'll be just the food poisoning that's keeping him low. Jesse is still getting gripes.'

'Uh-huh.'

'And so is Bugs… unfortunately!' I added with a mischievous wink that Jed either missed or ignored.' …Well, I'm going to get some food and catch up with Francoise and the others.'

'OK. Leave a cigarette will you? And come back later. Nobody comes in to check on me apart from you and Unhygienix. I think they're avoiding having to see Christo… Pretending it hasn't happened maybe.'

'Pretty hard,' I said, chucking him the packet. 'Sten's still lying in that sleeping-bag around the back of the longhouse. It's right on the other side from where I sleep, and I can smell him through the walls.'

Jed glanced at me. There was obviously something he wanted to say so I nodded, to say, 'Go on,' but he only sighed. 'Tomorrow morning,' he said sadly. 'Sal said she's given up on trying to persuade Karl to be there, so he'll be buried by the waterfall tomorrow morning.'

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 Francoise… 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.