‘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.’
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.
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.’