Dissent

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

'Richard,' said a stern voice.

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

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

'Evasion? I haven't been evad…'

'You have.'

'No, really.'

'Save it, Richard.'

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

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

'Sorry, Sal.'

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

'Very simple, Sal.'

'Very simple. But you've forgotten them already.'

'No, I…'

'Repeat them.'

'…The instructions?'

'Yes.'

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

'On?' Sal demanded.

'…On our potential new arrivals.'

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

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

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

'Yes.'

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

'We'll pull through.'

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

'…Sure.'

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

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

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

I reddened.

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

'OK.'

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Circle?'

'It's what mad people do.'

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

'Nope. He's too mad even for circles.'

'Actually,' Г‰tienne interrupted, not about to join in with Keaty's flippant appraisal, 'Karl is not mad. He is en Г©tat de choc.'

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

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

'That's helpful.'

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

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

Г‰tienne began walking away. A couple of seconds later, Keaty turned to Gregorio and hissed, 'Why the fuck weren't you backing me up?'

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

'He isn't right. How can he be right?'

'Hold on,' I said, first checking behind me to make sure that Г‰tienne was out of earshot. 'Was Г‰tienne being serious about Ko Pha-Ngan?'

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

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

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

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

'I've been telling that to Г‰tienne all day. But wait, it gets worse. He wants to drop Sten off on Ko Pha-Ngan as well.'

'Sten? '

'Yep.'

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

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

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

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

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

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

I couldn't have put it better myself.

Whoosh, Boom, Zzz

After all the discussion about Karl, I decided I ought to go and see him myself. Or that's what I told Keaty and Gregorio. Really I was just interested in catching up with Françoise, whom I'd barely seen over the past few days. The main reasons were our different work details and the hectic circumstances, though I hadn't been very active in seeking her out. Following the misunderstood kiss, I'd been slightly wary of giving Étienne any reasons to be suspicious.

I found Françoise by Karl's hole, about four hundred metres further on from Keaty and Gregorio. Karl had dug the hole when he'd decamped to the beach. It wasn't much of a hole – thigh-high if he stood up, chest-deep if he sat down. More impressive was the shelter which Étienne and Keaty had rigged up. Because Karl refused to budge from his hole all through the day, they'd been worried about him getting sunstroke. They'd found three long palm branches and tied them against each other like a tepee. The gaps in the fronds wouldn't have stopped rain but they kept him in the shade.

I was expecting Françoise to be in a bad mood (as everyone else seemed to be) so I was happily surprised when she ran over and gave me a hug.

'Richard!' she said. 'Thank you! I have not thanked you yet! So, thank you!'

I paused.' …What for?'

'For helping me when I was sick. Really, you were so kind. I wanted to tell you before, but there was never a good chance. Always so much to do. We have to catch all the extra fish now, and then I stay with Karl, and often you are not back until late.'

'Françoise, don't give it another thought. It was nothing. Anyway, you did the same for me once.'

'Yes, with your fever.' She smiled, then looked at me straight in the eyes and suddenly the smile turned into a sly chuckle. 'You kissed me!'

My eyes flicked away. 'I thought you were sleeping…'

'I was. Г‰tienne told me the next day.'

'Oh,' I said, mentally unleashing a stream of curses at Étienne's big mouth. 'Well… I hope you don't mind… It was sort of complicated…'

'Of course I do not mind! You know, when you were ill I also

kissed you.'

'…I was never completely sure if I dreamed that or not.'

'You did not dream it. And remember the next morning! You were so worried!'

I nodded, remembering my awkwardness and Françoise's Exocet-style questions extremely clearly.

'So tell me,' she said. 'Why do you say it was complicated?'

'Well… complicated is probably the wrong, uh… It wasn't like the kiss was… the kiss wasn't…' I stopped myself and started again. '…I'm not sure what Étienne told you, but he took the kiss the wrong way. I was kissing you because you were so sick, and there was so much other sickness around that once I'd started… it was kind of hard to stop.'

'How was Г‰tienne taking it?'

'Whoosh,' I thought. 'Boom.'

'…Well, I guess he thought it was… you know…'

'A sexy kiss.'

'Mmm.'

Françoise laughed again. Then she leant over and planted a little kiss on my cheek. 'Was that a sexy kiss?'

'No,' I replied; only a small fib. 'Of course not.'

'So there is no problem. Not complicated.'

'I'm glad you understand.'

'Always,' she said. 'I always understand.'

For a moment we held each other's gaze, just long enough for it to acquire a mild resonance. It reminded me of other moments from months back, loaded exchanges on Ko Samui, our midnight conversation about the parallel worlds in the Milky Way. Then the moment was over, broken by Françoise as she turned to look at Karl.

'He does not push down the shelter any more,' she said a few seconds later.

'…Yeah. I saw it was up. Maybe it's a good sign. An improvement or something.'

She sighed. 'No. It means nothing. We discovered he only pushed the shelter down because of the leaves… He could not see the caves. He likes to watch them. When we left a space for him to watch through, he left the shelter alone.'

'Ah…'

'But maybe he is improving… He eats the food I give him now.'

'That's something I guess. Not much though.'

Françoise nodded. 'Yes… Poor Karl… Not much.'

Sal cornered me a final time that day. I'd stayed with Françoise until long after the sun went down, and Sal got me just as I was about to enter the longhouse on my way to bed.

'Did you pass on my message?' she asked.

I slapped my forehead. 'Shit, Sal, it totally slipped my mind. I'm really sorry. I got distracted because people were talking about Karl and then…'

Sal shook her head dismissively. 'OK, OK. I know what happened because I had a chat with Étienne this evening. It seems there'll be a lot of ground to cover at the funeral tomorrow morning and… Please don't tell me you've forgotten about the funeral.'

'Sal!' I said, probably overdoing the outrage. 'Of course not!'

'Well, it's hard to tell with you… Anyway, following the talk with Étienne, I've had a slight change of plan. I've decided to be a bit blunter with the camp than I'd originally planned to be… Desperate times and desperate measures, or something like it…'

She hesitated. 'Funerals have a way of drawing people together, don't you think, Richard?'

'They can,' I said doubtfully.

'They can, yes… So the point is, don't lose any sleep over not passing on the message.'

I nodded. 'I won't.'

'Good. I'll see you tomorrow then.'

'Sure. Tomorrow.'

Moshe was the last to bed, so he blew out the last candle. The John-Boy game, obviously, was out of the question, but it crossed my mind to try it. I was interested to know what would happen. Probably we'd have laboured through it, only calling out the names of our friends until some poor sap was stuck and had to pass it over to the Bugs side. Probably via the Yugo girls, I imagined, or maybe Sal.

I moved on to thinking about Françoise, a train of thought that, once started, could occupy me almost indefinitely. Indefinitely turned out to be at least an hour. That was how long I'd been lying awake before I realized that everyone else in the longhouse was lying awake too. It was a revelation I found annoying. As there was no light in the longhouse for one's eyes to become accustomed to, normally one felt snugly cocooned by the insulating wall of blackness. Paradoxically, it was the snores and sounds of others sleeping that reinforced this cocoon, the sleepers distanced by their unconsciousness.

Once alerted by the lack of heavy breathing, the cocoon illusion was ruined. Ruined, and worst of all, replaced by a nagging puzzle. I was awake because I had Françoise to mull over, but why was everyone else awake? It took me another half-hour to deduce that it had to be because they were fretting about Sten's funeral.

Five minutes later, the puzzle solved, I fell fast asleep.

Ashes to Dust

Despite the stench of rotten Sten (a sudden hot blast erupted when his feet slipped out of his sleeping-bag) the funeral had some dignity. We all circled the grave that Jean had dug the day before, close enough to the waterfall to make a pleasant spot, far enough to stop our drinking water from being spoiled. Then Sal said a few words, talking of Sten's unfailing commitment to the camp and the extent to which we'd all miss him. Unhygienix, as head cook, said a few more. He talked about how Sten always caught big fish, which weren't necessarily tastier than the smaller ones from the lagoon, but went further in terms of keeping people's stomachs full. He also pointed out that although Sten hadn't played the most active social role in the camp, he was always ready to join in if a Sunday football game was organized and had never been known to foul. This last point drew a couple of murmurs of agreement from the crowd.

No one was visibly upset until we started filling in the grave. Then several of the girls started crying. Ella particularly – like all the cooks, she'd had more contact with him than the rest of us. Anyway, I could understand the tears because there was something poignant about watching the sleeping-bag shroud become slowly covered in earth. It brought home how absolute Sten's absence from the world had become.

Finally, Bugs planted a wooden headstone. To his credit, he'd made a real effort with the carving, putting little flourishes around Sten's name. If I had to niggle, I'd mention that the headstone was missing Sten's second name and date of birth. The trouble was, Christo wasn't able to answer questions about Sten and Karl wasn't willing, so there was nothing that anyone could do about it. But perhaps it was more appropriate that way. Second names felt connected to the World, maybe because they were a link to family and home, so they were never used or asked. It's a funny thought that if today – for some inexplicable reason—I wanted to track down any of the people I once knew on the beach, I'd have no better clue to work from than a nationality and a fading memory of their faces.

Throughout the proceedings, I was wondering at which point Sal would address us about the tensions in the camp. I'd assumed it would be when she spoke over the graveside, and I think she'd assumed the same thing, but the smell had probably changed her mind. It was distracting. Although we'd all listened attentively to her and Unhygienix, I think there was a quiet sense of relief when the earth sealed the head-hole of Sten's sleeping-bag.

Sal eventually made her move when we thought it was over. Jed turned to head off back to camp—he was in a hurry because he didn't want to leave Christo unattended for too long—but Sal stopped him.

'Hold on, Jed,' she called over our heads, standing on tiptoe. 'I don't want anyone leaving yet. There's something important I want to say, and I want everyone here to hear it.'

Jed frowned but stayed put. Amongst the others I noticed several more puzzled frowns. I also noticed some expectant expressions in Bugs' crew, and to my dismay, something in those expressions which appeared worryingly close to smugness. More worrying was that Bugs had manoeuvred himself so that he was standing right by Sal's side. This wouldn't have been surprising in normal circumstances, but when Sal had called to Jed she'd taken a couple of steps forward. Bugs had matched these steps to remain with her, nudging Cassie aside in the process. I kicked myself for having forgotten to pass on Sal's message. 'Forewarned is forearmed,' I muttered to myself, and Keaty glanced at me.

'OK!' Sal clapped her hands. 'I'd like to start by asking everyone to sit down so you can all see me… and so I can be reassured that there are still a few things, funerals excluded, that we can all do together.'

With a good deal of exchanged looks we arranged ourselves on the grass, Bugs, predictably, remaining standing longer than everyone else.

Sal surveyed us until we were, settled, then nodded. 'In case anyone hasn't realized or heard,' she began, 'I'm going to talk about the atmosphere in the camp. I'm going to talk about it because I have no choice. I'm going to talk about it because no one else seems willing to do so, except in painfully indiscreet huddles.'

Here, to my astonishment, she stared directly at Bugs. But my astonishment was nothing on his, and a broad grin leapt to my face as I saw his cheeks flush. She'd kept her word about being even-handed, I thought approvingly, and suddenly wondered if there were unknown strains in their relationship. Delighted, I imagined the nosedive his position in the camp would take if Sal chucked him. The grin vanished, however, when she directed her next comment straight at me.

'I'll add that matters have not been helped by certain individuals who have hardly tried to patch things up. In fact, I might say they've deliberately made things worse. And yes, Richard, before you even dream of denying it, I mean you. I don't want to repeat anything that was said in the longhouse a few nights ago, but I will say that if anything like it ever happens again, the one who'll be chucking spears is me. Clear?'

She didn't wait for an answer.

'Not that Richard should be singled out. As far as I'm concerned, with very few exceptions, everybody here is guilty of having acted like a fucking idiot over this whole mess. Between the two sides of the split, I haven't seen anyone making an effort to cool things down, so I don't see Richard's behaviour as any worse than the ones who sit around in sullen gangs.'

By now the exchanged glances had stopped and we were all looking rather intently at the leaves above us or picking at loose threads on our shorts. Anywhere but at Sal.

'So the way I see things is this. We've had two severe disasters over the past week. First there was the food poisoning and then we had the unspeakable tragedy that has collected us here now. For these reasons, the atmosphere in the camp has been understandably bad. If we weren't all in a state of shock with tempers fraying, we wouldn't be human… But!' Sal punched a fist in her palm. 'It ends here! It ends with the burial of a friend, so that something positive will come of his otherwise senseless death.

'Now, dates don't mean much on the beach, but I keep a calendar. And it may interest you to know that the date is September the eleventh.'

As a matter of fact, it interested me a lot to hear that the date was September the eleventh, because it meant it was close to five months since I'd left England. But I was surprised that it interested everyone else to the extent that it did. There was a ripple of exclamations around me and someone whistled.

'For the sake of our newest arrivals, it means that the Tet festival is in three days' time. The Tet festival, named by another absent friend, Daffy, is our yearly birthday. It was the date we first spent a night on the beach, and we celebrate it accordingly.'

As she said this, the fire dropped from Sal's eyes and she looked rather sad. 'To be honest, I haven't been much looking forward to this year's Tet. Without Daffy, I don't mind telling you that it will feel very strange. But after the trouble we've been through, particularly losing Sten, I now feel that the festival is exactly what we need. It will remind us what we are and why we're here. As it marks our birthday, it will mark a fresh start.'

Sal paused for a moment, clearly lost in thought. Then her face hardened and she snapped back into business mode. 'Obviously, this means a trip to Ko Pha-Ngan to get party supplies. Normally I'd ask for volunteers, but this time I won't. Bugs and Keaty, as you two were the catalyst for the split, I want you to make the trip together.'