The Beach (32 page)

As I got into bed, the first into the longhouse that night, I heard the sound of Bugs and Keaty returning with the Tet supplies. There was a lot of excited chatter when people saw what had been brought for the celebration, and later I heard Keaty calling my name. Later still, Françoise joined him. I didn't answer either of them. I was lying on my back with a T-shirt draped over my head, waiting for sleep. Surprisingly, I didn't have to wait too long.
The clearing had always been a clearing. It had almost doubled in size as the camp had grown, but had existed in some form since the rocket-ship trees were saplings. Two hundred years ago? Maybe more. The only way I know how to date a tree is to cut it down, but it wasn't hard to imagine those rocket-ship trees having seen a few centuries through.
'A Herculean task,' said Mister Duck thoughtfully. He was standing in the spot where the longhouse now stood, thigh-deep in ferns. 'Diverting the stream. We only attempted it in the second year, when there were fourteen of us living here. Couldn't have done it without Jean, of course. Not just the know-how. He worked like an ox... kept us going... I wish you could have been with us, Rich. I wish you could have been with us from the very beginning. Me, Sal and Bugs... The mood, you can't imagine...'
I pushed carefully through the shrubs, pacing out the distance from the longhouse door to where I estimated my bed must be. It was curious to be in the position where I knew, at that moment, I was also sleeping. 'I can imagine the mood,' I said, stepping sideways, disconcerted by the idea that I was standing on my head. 'I can imagine it easily.'
Mister Duck waggled a finger at me. 'If I didn't know you better, Rich, I'd take offence at that. There's no way you can imagine the way we felt. Apart from anything, you're too young. On and off, I'd been travelling with Sal and Bugs for over eleven years. Eleven years, Rich! How can you imagine what it's like, living with cancer for eleven years?'
'...Cancer?'
'Sure, cancer. Or AIDS. What do you want to call it?'
'Call what?'
'Living with death. Time-limits on everything you enjoy. Sitting on a beautiful beach, waiting for a fucking time-limit to come up. Affecting the way you look at the sand and the sunsets and the way you taste the rice. Then moving on and waiting for it to happen all over again. For eleven years!' Mister Duck shivered. '...Then to have that cancer lifted. To think you've found a cure... That's what you can't imagine, Rich.'
The waterfall and its pool, at least, were exactly the same. A few shrubs different, I suppose, and doubtless a few invisible branches had broken in the trees, but not enough differences to warrant a double take.
One major difference perhaps, but one that would have taken me a while to notice. The carved tree hadn't been carved, and as soon as we arrived by the pool, Mister Duck produced a pocket knife and set about cutting in the names.
I watched him for a while, interested by the concentration on his usually restless face. Then, as he began to write the zero calendar, I asked, 'Why me?'
He smiled. 'I liked the way you talked when I threw the joint at you. You were so indignant and funny... But mainly, I chose you because you were a traveller. Any traveller would have done the job. Spreading the news is in our nature.'
'Our?'
'I'm no better than you. I'm just the same.'
'Maybe worse...'
Mister Duck completed the last zero with a twist of his wrist, and an oval of bark dropped cleanly on to his lap. 'Hey,' he said happily. 'I'd forgotten I did that. How amazing.'
'Maybe worse,' I repeated. 'If I had a part in destroying the beach, I did it unwittingly. You did it on purpose.'
'Who says I destroyed this place? Not me, pal. Not from where I'm standing.' He glanced at his crossed legs. 'Sitting.'
'Who was it then?'
Mister Duck shrugged. 'No one. Stop looking for some big crime, Rich. You have to see, with these places, with all these places, you can't protect them. We thought you could, but we were wrong. I realized it when Jed arrived. The word was out, somehow out, and after that it was just a matter of time... Not that I acted on it at first. I waited, hoping he was a one-off, I guess. But then the Swedes arrived and I knew for sure. Cancer back, no cure, malignant as fuck...' He stood up, dusted the earth off his legs, and flicked his bark zero into the waterfall pool. 'Terminal.'
I punched him as hard as I could, square on his solar plexus. Then, when he doubled up, I pushed him on the floor and kicked him in the face.
He took it all without any attempt to fight back. He let me lay into him until my knuckles were cut and my ankle was twisted. Then, when I'd run out of breath and had collapsed on the grass beside him, he uncurled, pulled himself up, and started to laugh.
'Shut the fuck up!' I panted. 'Shut your fucking mouth!'
'Gripes,' he chuckled, spitting out a broken tooth. 'What's got into you?'
'You tricked me!'
'How? What did I ever offer you? What did I ever say I'd provide?'
'You...'
'I never offered you anything but Vietnam, and only because you asked for it. It so happens you wanted the beach too. But if you could have had Vietnam and kept the beach, it wouldn't have been Vietnam.'
'I didn't know that! You never told me!'
'Exactly.' Mister Duck beamed. 'That was the beauty of it. You not knowing was Vietnam too. Not knowing what was going on, not knowing when to give up, stuck in a struggle that was lost before it started. It's incredible really. It all works out.'
'But I didn't want that Vietnam!' I began. 'I didn't want that kind! I wan...' Then I stopped. 'All? ...Wait, you're saying it
all
works out?'
'All. Right to the bitter end.' He rubbed his hands together. 'You know, Rich, I always thought euthanasia was a kindness. But I never dreamed it could be so much fun.'

I watched Sal from just inside the longhouse door. Everyone was standing in a big circle and she was in the middle, glowing, marching round, dishing out orders like they were birthday presents. For Greg and Moshe's teams, special fish quotas to achieve; for Bugs and the carpenters, an eating area to construct; for Unhygienix and the gardeners, a feast to prepare; for Ella, seven whole chickens to pluck.
'Meat!' I heard one of the Yugoslavian girls say. 'I have not eaten meat since... since...'
Since the last Tet celebration, it was generally agreed. Nine or ten months ago, a few had eaten a monkey that Jean had killed. Monkey, which tasted more like lamb than chicken, Jesse reported. Something Sammy might have found interesting, as an exception to his rule of exotic food.
Watching Sal's skilful organizing, I wondered how she'd react if I explained that our respite with the rafters was temporary in the extreme, and that all our efforts to protect the beach would come to nothing. I wondered if this news would frighten her as much as it frightened me.
When everyone had woken that morning and the longhouse had begun to buzz, I'd pretended to be asleep. Difficult, when Françoise tried to rouse me, but Sal soon called her off.
'Leave him be,' she'd said, doubtless realizing I was faking. 'Richard had a tough day yesterday, collecting all the dope for tonight.'
Thankfully, it didn't take long for the longhouse to empty and I was able to remove the sheets from over my head, light a candle, and a cigarette. I'd actually been awake a good two hours before the others, itching for nicotine all that time. I should have crept out when I had the chance. It would have meant I wasn't trapped in the longhouse. But at five a.m. I knew it would still be dark outside, and darkness was something I didn't feel ready for. I didn't know what it might be hiding. So instead, I had two hours of my imagination running riot, trying to second-guess Mister Duck.
The only thing I could be sure of was that if Vietnam was heading for a bitter end, I was too. Past that, I couldn't be sure of anything. Working through the possibilities, the areas the end might come were as good as infinite. As an infantry man, all it might take was an ill-advised command from my CO. One that pushed my luck in the DMZ, accepted against my better instincts. Equally it might come from random bad luck. The same luck that jammed a soldier's M16 at the wrong time could make me slip as I jumped from the waterfall.
But knowing Mister Duck in the way I did, these were not the threats that scared me the most. They were real enough, but they didn't have his nightmare hallmark. When he spoke about the bitter end, deep down I knew he only meant one thing. The VC. The fall of Saigon.
I was fortunate that, in her attempt to wake me, Françoise hadn't tried to pull the sheets from my head. If she had done, she'd have discovered that they were soaking wet and cold with sweat.
By eight, all the camp had been given their duties for the day's preparations and were busy working around the clearing. Worried about being seen and asked to join in, I went back to sit on my bed. It was a waste of time, knowing that someone would come to find me sooner or later, but I wanted to put it off as long as possible.
It was past eight thirty when a plump silhouette appeared in the longhouse door-frame. 'You're being missed,' Sal said, walking through the shadows until she was caught in the light from my candle. 'Greg's asked if you can work on his detail today. Keaty wants to swap notes on Ko Pha-Ngan.' She smiled. 'And Françoise, I know you'll be glad to hear, has asked me to make certain you join them as soon as you wake up.'
'What about Jed?' I asked quickly.
'Jed?' Sal frowned as she settled into a lotus position beside my bed. 'I haven't seen him yet. But I'm sure he'd like to see you too.'
'...I'll go to see him later.'
'Fine.' She nodded. 'Actually, just a thought, but maybe leave it for a while. There's quite a few people near the tent at the moment, and I have a feeling that things are getting extremely delicate with Christo. Jed might prefer not to be disturbed, and I think we should respect that.'
'But he might prefer me to...'
'I'll check on him myself in a little while if it's worrying you. And anyway...' The barest suggestion of apprehension appeared on Sal's face. So slight that if I'd looked away as it happened, I'd never have noticed a change. 'There was something else I was hoping you might do.'
I tried to keep my expression as steady as hers.
'You see, Richard, I know it may feel as if with our rafters gone, our troubles are as good as over. But I'm afraid that isn't quite the case. We still have the problem of the Swedes, and having got this far, I'm extremely reluctant to risk anything else going wrong. Now...' She paused to tuck a stray curl of hair back over her ears. '... If Christo dies during Tet, no one has to know. People aren't exactly begging for news, so I can hold it back until the time feels right. No, our real problem, to my mind, is...'
'Karl...'
'...Karl. That's right. And I'm afraid the responsibility for him must lie with you.'
Unconsciously I squeezed the sheets with my fists. 'With me?'
'Yes, you're quite right to look so guilty.'
'Guilty?'
'If you hadn't disturbed him, he'd have stayed in his hole all through today and tonight, and through the next week as well, I'd have thought. Of course, we'd have had to deal with him at some point, but I was planning to leave that matter until after Tet... Thanks to you, a luxury that has gone.' She gestured vaguely in the direction of the longhouse door. 'Take a look out there. You can see how important Tet is to everyone here. It's vital we make sure it goes smoothly. I can't really stress that enough...'
With a jolt, I realized the direction she was taking. She might have been a long way off delivering the bottom line, but I suddenly understood what it would be.
'So,' she said, and now I could clearly hear the controlled tension in her voice. 'Let me spell the problem out. With Karl running around like a headless chicken, who's to say he won't suddenly appear during...'
'Sal,' I interrupted. 'I won't do it.'
There was a short silence.
Although her composure remained fixed, I could sense the level of calculation at which Sal's mind was working. With a chess player's vacant gaze she was running through lists of responses, possible responses to the responses, and beyond. Four or five moves in advance, the variables becoming more complex at each step.
Eventually she crossed her arms. 'You won't do what, Richard?'
'I won't, Sal. I won't do it.'
'Do what?'
'Don't ask me, please...'
'Don't ask you to...'
I looked at her carefully, wondering if it was possible I'd read the signals wrong. But as my eyes moved to her face, hers dipped, and I knew for certain I was right.
And Sal saw this too. Immediately the pretence dropped, and with a slight shrug she said, 'I'm afraid I am asking you, Richard.'
I shook my head.' Sal, please...'
'I'm going to leave the longhouse now. In half an hour I'll come back and you will be gone. By tonight, all of our troubles will be behind us. The last month will be concluded. We'll never have to even think about it ever again.'
She stood up to go, drawing in a deep breath as she rose.
'The beach is my life, Richard, but it's yours too. Don't forget that. You can't afford to let me down.'
I nodded miserably.
'Good.' She returned the nod, turned around, and walked away.
Outside, everyone apart from the fishing details was busy in the clearing. Most were outside the kitchen hut, helping to peel an enormous mound of vegetables, at least four times our usual ration. Unhygienix had stuck some of the chicken feathers in his hair. The carpenters were in the middle, marking out the dimension of the seating area. Bugs and Cassie had started to lay down palm leaves, loosely meshed together as a carpet.
All engrossed in their work and laughter. I easily ducked around the jungle side of the longhouse without being seen.

I thought of the caves after I'd checked around the waterfall and the far end of the Khyber Pass. If I'd been thinking more clearly, I would have checked the caves first. Not that it would have made much difference. The boat had probably been gone since sun-up.
These days I can find comfort in the idea that, weirdly, my deranged assault had cured Karl after all. I often picture him, trying to guess what he's doing at this moment or that. All the images revolve around him having a normal life, and a loose impression of what a normal life might be in Sweden. Skiing, eating, working in an office, drinking with friends in a bar. An oak-panelled bar with moose heads and hunting trophies on the walls, for some reason. The more mundane the picture, the more comfort it gives me.
But at the time my reaction wasn't so straightforward. Part of me was relieved that killing Karl was now an impossibility. I doubt I'd have killed him if he had been in the caves, despite the inflexibility of Sal's order, but I'm glad I never had the chance to find out. Most of me, however, was numb with shock. For the first few minutes after seeing the empty cove, I didn't even have the will to climb out of the water. All I could manage was to hang on to the rocks, and let myself be scraped up and down by the swell. I couldn't begin to imagine how Sal would react to this development. Karl turning up during Tet was of almost zero consequence compared to losing the boat, let alone the possible consequences of his arrival on Ko Pha-Ngan.
Eventually one of the larger swells as good as threw me on to the shelf where the gasoline can was usually tied down. Once there, I dragged myself a little further in and didn't move again until, a short while later, I saw someone surface near the underwater passage.
Instinctively I ducked down, not recognizing the dark bobbing head at first. An instant paranoid scenario had formed: as someone who knew too much, Sal had sent Bugs after me in the same way that I'd been sent after Karl. Maybe this was what she'd meant by saying I couldn't afford to let her down.
'Richard?' the head called over the sound of the waves. It was Étienne. He was treading water, looking around, apparently having spotted neither me nor the missing boat. 'Are you here, Richard?'
Of all the people I might fear on the beach, Étienne was the least likely candidate. Warily I stood up and waved him over.
I only noticed how cold I was when he'd swum over to the shelf and hauled himself up. I could hear his teeth chattering. The sun was still too low in the sky to reach inside the cave entrance, and the sea wind chilled the spray. 'I followed you,' he said, rubbing goose-bumps off his arms. 'I wanted to talk.'
I paused, wondering why he hadn't noticed that the boat was gone. Then it dawned on me that there was a good chance he'd never been on this side of the caves. In which case he'd also never been through the underwater passage before. Very brave, I commented to myself. Or just as crazy as everyone else.
'I know there has been some difficulty between us,' he continued. 'Some difficulty between us, yes?'
I shrugged.
'Please, Richard. I would be very happy if we could talk about this. We should not be this way. Not at this time...'
'What time is that?'
'Before...' Étienne swallowed awkwardly. 'Before Tet. Sal wants all difficulties to be over for Tet. A new start for the new year... Everybody else in the camp has forgotten their arguments. Keaty and Bugs even. So... I thought we should talk about our problem and make friends again... I thought we should talk about when you kissed Françoise...'
It was funny. My world was falling to pieces, everything in my life revolved around threat, and my nerves were shot to shit. But hearing that Étienne was still worried about the kiss with Françoise made me feel like laughing out loud.
'That is the problem, no? It is because of my reaction. My stupid reaction. Really, it was all my fault. I am very sorry that...'
'Étienne, what the hell are you talking about?'
'...The kiss.'
'The kiss.' I glanced up at the sky. 'Fuck the kiss. And fuck all that crap about Tet and Sal, too. I know how much you care about Tet.'
'I care about Tet!' he exclaimed, very alarmed. 'Of course, I care very much! I am working very hard to make sure tha...'
'Bullshit,' I interrupted.
Étienne stood up, making as if he was going to dive back into the water. 'I have to get back to the fishing detail now. I only wanted to apologize so that now we can be friends and...'
I caught his elbow and dragged him back down. 'Jesus! What's the matter with you?'
'Nothing! Richard, I only wanted to apologize! Please, now I must get back to...'
'Étienne, will you cut it out? You're acting like I'm the fucking Gestapo!'
He went very silent.
'What?' I shouted. 'What is it?'
He still wouldn't reply, but looked extremely worried.
'Say something!'
After at least a half-minute, Étienne cleared his throat. 'Richard, I want to speak to you, but... I do not know...'
'You don't know what?'
He took a deep breath. 'I do not know if it is... safe.'
'
Safe?
'
'I... I understand Sal has not been happy with me...'
I dropped my head into my hands. 'Christ,' I muttered. 'You do think I'm the Gestapo.'
'I think you... do things. You do things for Sal. Everybody knows...'
'Everybody knows?'
'Today, you were looking for Karl...' 'What does everybody know?' 'Where is Karl, Richard? Did you catch him?' I closed my eyes against a wave of nausea. 'Is he dead now?'
Everyone knew I did things for Sal. Everyone talked about it. They just didn't talk about it in front of me.
Étienne might have continued speaking, asking what I'd done with Karl, but I can't be sure because I wasn't really listening. My head was filling up. I was remembering the way Cassie had looked at me when I'd let Bugs slip and slide in his shit. And the way a consensus of silence could drop as fast as an Asian rainstorm, and Jean nervously asking me on a date, and unmentioned gunshots. Unnoticed Christo dying in the death tent, Sten's funeral forgotten in half a day, Karl forgotten on a beach.
Except now, suddenly, not forgotten on a beach after all. Deliberately avoided to provide me with a discreet window of opportunity. A space for me to do the things I do for Sal.
God knows what those weeks since the food poisoning had been like for Étienne. It's impossible for me to put myself in his shoes, working through how he must have interpreted the events around him. I know because I've tried. The nearest I got was while I was sitting with him in the empty cove, and I've never been close since.
Ultimately, I've only got one reliable touchstone to his experience. The scene that followed Karl running through the clearing with me on his tail. The moment when Françoise strode away from him, distancing herself from the liability that he'd become, ignoring his outstretched arms. I'd give a lot to know what she'd said to him later. But obviously it was enough for him to realize that once Karl was out of the way, he might be next.
'Étienne,' I said, hearing my voice from far away. 'Would you like to go home?'
He didn't seem to reply for a long time. 'You mean... the camp?'
'I mean home.'
'...Not the camp?'
'Not the camp.'
'Not...'
'Leaving the beach. France for you and Françoise, England for me.'
I turned to face him, and was immediately hit by a second rush of sickness. It was the expression on his face, hiding his hope so badly. 'It's all right,' I murmured and reached out, intending to pat his shoulder for reassurance. But as soon as I moved, he recoiled.
'Don't worry,' I said. 'Everything will be OK. We're going to leave tonight.'