The Beach (14 page)

A hundred or so metres from the shore, Jed cut the engine so we could paddle the rest of the way in. The idea was to look like day-trippers but we needn't have bothered. The stretch of beach we landed on was empty apart from a few beat-up old beach huts, and they looked like no one had stayed in them for quite a while.
We jumped out and waded to the sand, dragging the boat by the outrigger. 'Are we going to leave the boat here?' I asked when we were clear of the water.
'No, we'll have to hide it.' Jed pointed to the tree-line. 'Maybe up there. Go and check it out. Make sure this area is as empty as it seems.'
'OK.'
I started jogging up the beach, then slowed to a walk almost
immediately. My sense of balance still thought I was at sea and I was
swaying drunkenly from side to side. It passed quickly, but for a
couple of minutes I actually had to concentrate to keep from falling
' over.
Not far from where we'd landed I found two palms that were far enough apart to let the outrigger through and close enough together to look inconspicuous. Between them was a bush with a large canopy which would cover the boat completely, especially with the help of a few well-placed branches, and the nearest of the ramshackle beach huts was a good fifty metres away.
'Here seems fine,' I called to Jed.
'Right. Give us a hand then.'
Everything would have been much easier if there'd been a third person to help us. With the weight of the engine it took both of us to lift the stern - we had to keep the propeller up to stop it from getting damaged—so the front end kept sliding away from us. It was hard enough on the sand, but getting it over the small grass verge was a nightmare. We had to shunt it in short back-breaking bursts, none of which seemed to take us more than a foot.
'Bloody hell,' I panted, after the boat had swivelled away from the tree-line for the twentieth time. 'Is it always this hard?'
'Is what always this hard?'
'Rice Running.'
'Of course,' Jed replied, smoothing the sweat out of his beard. A stream of oily drops ran down his wrist and dripped off his elbow. 'Why do you think nobody wants to do it?'
Eventually we managed to manoeuvre the boat between the trees and under the bush. After we'd knocked up some camouflage, there was no way anyone would have spotted it unless they were going out of their way to look. We were even worried that we'd have trouble finding it again ourselves, so we marked the spot by pushing a forked stick into the sand.
We were completely exhausted, but there were two consolations. One was that it would be easier getting the boat back to the water, because it would be downhill and the ocean made for a bigger target than the space between two palm trees. The other was that we could treat ourselves to a big meal as soon as we got to Hat Rin.
We set off in high spirits, discussing which soft drinks we were going to order and whether Sprite had the edge on Coke. Jed noticed the couple first, but we were already a fair distance from the boat so we didn't worry too much. As we passed them I looked straight at their faces, not for any reason except to be ready with a smile if they said hello.
They didn't. They kept their eyes pointed at the ground, and by their expressions I could see they were putting the same concentration into walking as I had earlier.
'Did you see them?' I said when they were out of earshot. 'Wasted by lunch-time.'
'Liquid lunch.'
'Powdered lunch.'
Jed nodded, then hawked up and spat on the sand. 'Fucking Freaks.'
An hour later we were walking past rows of busy beach huts and weaving between sunbathers and Frisbee games. I was surprised that people weren't taking more notice of us. Everyone looked so strange to me that I couldn't believe I didn't look equally strange to them.
'Let's eat,' said Jed, when we were about halfway down Hat Rin, so we walked into the nearest café and sat down. Jed looked over the menu while I continued to marvel at our surroundings. The concrete under my toes felt particularly weird, and the plastic chair I was sitting on. It was just a standard chair—the same kind I used to have at school, curved seat with a hole in the back, V-shaped metal legs - but I found it bizarrely uncomfortable. I couldn't work out the right way to sit on it. Either I was slithering down or I was perched on the edge, both of which were useless.
'How the hell do you do this?' I muttered.
Jed looked up from the menu.
'I can't seem to sit...'
He started laughing. 'Does your head in, doesn't it? All this.'
'It sure does.'
'What about your reflection?'
'...How do you mean?'
'When was the last time you saw your reflection?'
I shrugged. There was a make-up mirror near the shower hut which the men used for shaving, but it only showed a tiny area of your face at any one time. Apart from that, I hadn't seen myself for over four weeks.
'There's a sink and a mirror over there. Go and have a look. You'll get a real shock.'
I frowned, suddenly worried. 'Why? Has something happened to my face?'
'No. Just go and have a look. You'll see.'
Shock was right. The person who gazed back at me over the sink was a stranger. My skin was darker than I'd imagined it could possibly get, my black hair had been sun-bleached almost brown and matted into curls, and my teeth were so white they seemed to jump out of my face. I also looked old - twenty-six or twenty-seven - and there were some freckles on my nose. The freckles were a particular shock. I never get freckles.
I stared at my reflection for five minutes at least, transfixed. I could have stared for an hour if Jed hadn't called me back to order some food.
'What did you think?' he asked, as I wandered back to the table, grinning like an idiot.
'Really weird. Why don't you have a look too? It's great.'
'No... I haven't seen myself for six months now. I'm saving up to completely freak myself out.'
'Six months!'
'Uh-huh. Maybe more.' He tossed me the menu. 'Come on. What'll it be? I'm starving.'
I glanced down the enormous list, pausing on banana pancakes but thinking the better of it.
'I believe I'd like a couple of cheeseburgers.'
'Cheeseburgers. Anything else?'
'Uh... OK. Spicy chicken noodles too. We 're in Thailand, after all.'
Jed stood up, glancing over his shoulder towards the sunbathers on the beach. 'I'll take your word for it,' he said dryly, then went to place our order.
While we waited for our food we watched TV. There was a video at the far end of the café and it was playing
Schindler's List.
Schindler was on a horse watching the ghettos being emptied, and he'd noticed a little girl in a red coat.
'How about that coat?' Jed asked, sipping his Coke.
I sipped my Sprite. 'What about it?'
'Do you reckon they painted it on the film with a brush?'
'On each frame? Like animation?'
'Yeah.'
'No way. They would have done it with a computer, like
Jurassic Park
.'
'Oh...' Jed drained the bottle and smacked his lips. 'It's the real thing.'
I frowned. '
Schindler's List?
'
'No, you twerp. Coke.'
The food must have taken ages because by the time it arrived, Schindler was looking at the red coat again. If you've seen the film you'll know that's an hour after he first sees it, if not more. Luckily, I discovered that the café had an old Space Invaders machine, so for me the waiting wasn't so bad.

Jed gave me a choice. I could go with him to sort out the rice or I could stay on the beach and meet him later. He didn't really need my help so I decided to stay. In any case, I had my own shopping to do. I wanted to restock my supply of cigarettes and get more batteries for Keaty's Gameboy.
In one of the other Hat Rin cafes I found a shop - or a glass counter with a few goods beneath it - and after buying the batteries and cigarettes it turned out I still had plenty of money left to get a few presents.
First of all I bought some soap for Unhygienix. That was tricky because they had several varieties - some western, some Thai, but none of them the brand I'd seen Unhygienix using. I rummaged through the bars for a while before finding one called 'Luxume'. It said it was 'Luxuriant yet perfumed'. The 'yet' turned my head and the 'perfumed' clinched it, knowing how important this was to him.
Then I bought a load of razors, which I thought I'd share out between me, Étienne, Gregorio and Keaty. Then I bought a tube of Colgate for Françoise. Nobody used toothpaste on the beach; there were ten toothbrushes which were shared by everyone, although many couldn't be bothered and just chewed a twig each morning. Françoise didn't mind sharing a toothbrush but she did miss the toothpaste, so I knew she'd appreciate the gift.
The next purchase was several packets of boiled sweets - I didn't want anybody to go empty-handed - and finally I bought a pair of shorts. Mine were getting ragged and I couldn't see them lasting more than a month or two.
With my shopping done I had nothing left to do. I had another Sprite, which didn't last long, so I decided to pass the time by walking the length of Hat Rin. After only a few hundred metres I gave up. There was nothing much to see apart from beach huts. Instead, I sat myself down on the sand and paddled my feet in the water, imagining the warm reactions I'd get when I handed out my presents. I envisaged an Asterix-style scene, returning from the adventure to a huge feast. We'd have to do without wild boars and Gaulish wine, but we'd have plenty of dope and more rice than you could shake a stick at.
'Saigon,' said a male voice, and broke me straight out of my daydreaming. 'Mad.'
'Sounds it,' said another voice, female.
'We were there two months. The place is like Bangkok ten fuckin' years ago. Probably better.'
I looked round and saw four sunbathers. Two girls, English, and two boys, Australians. All of them were talking very loudly, so loudly it was like their conversation was aimed more at passers-by than each other.
'Yeah, but if Saigon was mad, then Kampuchea was fuckin' unreal.'
This was the second Aussie speaking — a skinny guy with very cropped hair, long sideburns, and a tiny patch of beard on his chin.
'We were there for six weeks. Would have stayed longer but we ran out of cash. Had to get back to Thailand to pick up a fuckin' wire.'
'Good scene,' the first agreed. 'Could have stayed six months.'
'Could have stayed six years.'
I looked back to the sea. It was a familiar enough exchange, I thought to myself, and not worth tuning in to. But then I found that I couldn't tune it out. It wasn't the volume of their chattering; I was intrigued that the guy had been talking about Kampuchea. I wondered if this was the new term for Cambodia.
Without thinking it over any more than that, I leant towards them. 'Hey,' I said. 'Out of interest, why do you call Cambodia Kampuchea?'
All four faces looked at me.
'I mean,' I continued, 'it's Cambodia, right?'
The second Aussie shook his head, not like he was disagreeing with me, like he was trying to figure out who I was.
'It's Cambodia, right?' I repeated, in case he hadn't heard me.
'Kampuchea. I've just been there.'
I got up and walked over. 'But called Kampuchea by who?'
'Cambodians.'
'Not Kampucheans, then.'
He frowned. 'What?'
'I'm just interested to hear how you picked up the word "Kampuchea".'
'Mate,' the first Aussie interrupted, 'why does it matter what we call Kampuchea?'
'It isn't that it matters. I was just interested because I thought Kampuchea was a Khmer Rouge name. I mean, I'm probably wrong. Maybe it's just the old-fashioned name for Cambodia, but...'
The sentence trailed off. I was suddenly aware that all four of them were looking at me as though they thought I was insane. I smiled uncertainly. 'It isn't a big deal... I was interested, that's all... Kampuchea... It sounded strange...'
Silence.
I began to feel myself blushing. I knew I'd made some kind of
faux pas
but I didn't know what it might be. With my smile getting increasingly desperate I tried to explain myself better, but my confusion and nervousness only made things worse. 'I was just sitting over there and you said "Kampuchea", which I thought was a Khmer Rouge name, but you also used the old name of Ho Chi Minh City... Saigon... Not that I'm making a parallel between the VC and the Khmer Rouge, obviously... but...'
'So what?'
This was a fair point. I considered it for a couple of seconds, then said, 'So nothing, I guess...'
'Then why are you bothering us, mate?'
I couldn't think what to say. I shrugged awkwardly and turned to walk back to my shopping bag, and behind me I heard one of them mutter, 'Another fuckin' space-head. Can't move for them, man.' The comment made my ears burn and the tips of my fingers tingle. I hadn't had that feeling since I was a little kid.
When I sat back down I felt terrible. My good mood was completely gone. I couldn't understand what I'd said that was so wrong. All I'd been doing was joining in their conversation, which didn't seem like such a terrible thing to do. It was the beach and the World, I decided coldly. My beach, where you could walk into a conversation at any time between anybody, and the World, where you couldn't.
A few minutes later I got up to go. I'd noticed that their talking had become quieter and I had the miserable feeling that they were talking about me. I found a suitably secluded palm tree a short way up the beach and settled beneath it. I'd arranged to meet Jed at seven, back at the café where we'd eaten lunch, so I still had a few hours to kill. Too many hours. The wait was beginning to feel like it might be an ordeal.
I chain-smoked two and a half cigarettes. I wanted to chain-smoke three, or even more, but the third gave me a five-minute coughing fit. Reluctantly I stubbed it out and pushed it into the sand.
My embarrassment had turned quickly to anger. Before I'd been looking at Hat Rin with a detached curiosity, and now I was looking at it with hatred. I could sense shit all around me; Thais smiling like sharks, and careless hedonism, too diligently pursued to ring true. Most of all, I could pick up the scent of decay. It hung over Hat Rin like the sandflies that hung over the sunbathers, zoning in on the smell of sweat and sweet tanning lotion. The serious travellers had already moved on to the next island in the chain, the intermediate travellers were wondering where all the life had gone, and the tourist hordes were ready to descend on their freshly beaten track.
For the first time I understood the true preciousness of our hidden beach. To imagine Hat Rin's fate unfolding in the lagoon made my blood run cold. I began scanning the dark bodies that lounged around me as if I were photographing the enemy, familiarizing myself with the images, filing them away. Occasionally couples walked near me and I caught snatches of their conversations. I must have heard twenty different accents and languages. Most I didn't understand, but they all sounded like threats.
Time dragged with only these thoughts for company, so when my eyes grew heavy I let them close. The heat and the day's early start had caught up with me. An afternoon siesta would be a welcome retreat.