The Beach (19 page)

'Hi,' said a voice, and I turned round. A small boy was standing in the gateway of the house behind me. He grinned and marched over the pavement. 'Would you like a drink?'
I looked at him blankly. Mister Duck was fair-haired and close to tubby as a child. It surprised me that this well-fed kid would become the scrawny figure I'd meet on the Khao San Road.
'That is you, isn't it?' I said, to make certain.
'It's me.' His chubby arms stretched out and clapped me on the shoulders. 'Would you like a drink?'
'Well...' I rubbed my throat. 'What have you got?'
'Ribena or water.'
'Ribena is good.'
'OK. Wait here.'
Mister Duck went inside the house, waddling slightly as he walked. I wondered if that was where his nickname had originally come from. A minute later he came back out, holding a cup in both hands.
'I'm afraid it's not really very cold. It takes ages for the tap to run cold.'
'That's OK.'
He gave me the cup and watched me closely while I drank.
'Is it all right? Maybe I should've put some ice in it.'
'It's very nice.'
'I can get some ice for you.'
'No.' I drained the remainder. 'It was just right.'
'Great!' He smiled radiantly. 'You want to see my room?'
Mister Duck's bedroom was a lot like mine had been - clothes in heaps, dog-eared posters on the walls, duvet scrunched up at the bottom of the mattress, battered Matchbox cars on the shelves, marbles and toy soldiers everywhere else. The main difference was that I'd shared my room with my younger brother, so the mess was doubled.
In the middle of the floor was a collapsed pile of Tintin and Asterix books.
'Shit,' I said admiringly, as I spotted them. 'That's a good collection.'
Mister Duck's eyes opened wide, then he ran to his bedroom door and peered nervously out. 'Richard,' he hissed, turning back to me with a sternly raised finger. 'You mustn't say that!'
'...Shit?'
His tiny face went bright red and he waved his arms. 'Shh! Someone will hear you!'
'But...'
'No buts!' He dropped his voice to a whisper. 'Swearing carries a two-pence fine in this house!'
'Oh... right. I won't swear any more.'
'Good,' he said gravely. 'I should ask you for some money, but you didn't know the rule, so we'll leave it at that.'
'Thanks...' I walked over to the pile of books and picked one up -
Cigars of the Pharaoh.
'So you like Tintin, huh?'
'I
love
Tintin! Do you? I've got every Tintin book except one.'
'I've got every Tintin book except none.'
'Including
The Blue Lotus?'
'Only in French.'
'Exactly! That's why I haven't got it. It really annoys me.'
'You should get someone to talk you through it. My mum went through it with me. It's pretty good.'
Mister Duck shrugged. 'My mum can't speak French.'
'Oh...'
'So which is your favourite one?'
'Hmm. Tricky question.' I thought for a couple of seconds. 'It isn't
Tintin in America
.'
'No. And it isn't the
Castafiore Emerald
.'
'No way... It might be
Tintin in Tibet
... or
The Crab with the Golden Claws
... I can't decide.'
'Do you want to know what my favourite is?'
'Sure.'
'
Prisoners of the Sun
.'
I nodded. 'That's a good choice.'
'Yes. Would you like to know another book I like?'
'OK.'
Mister Duck walked over to his bed and crouched down, feeling around underneath. Then he dragged out a large hardback, coffee-table size. Its cover was plain red and stamped with gold-leaf writing. It read
Time. A Decade in Photographs: 1960-1970.
'This book is my dad's,' he said airily, squatting down and beckoning me to sit beside him. 'I'm not even supposed to have it in my room. You know what?'
'What?'
'In this book...' He paused for dramatic effect. 'There's a picture of a girl.'
I snorted. 'Big deal.'
'A naked girl!'
'Naked?'
'Uh-huh. You want to see it?'
'Sure.'
'OK... hold on.' Mister Duck started flicking through the pages. 'It's somewhere near the middle... Ah! Here it is!'
I pulled the book on to my lap.
The girl was indeed naked, and aged somewhere between ten and twelve. She was running down a country road.
Mister Duck leant over and put his mouth to my ear. 'You can see
everything
! he whispered excitedly.
'You certainly can,' I agreed.
'Everything! All her bits!' He started giggling and rolled forwards with his hands over his mouth. 'Everything!'
'Yes,' I said, but I was suddenly feeling uncertain. There was something puzzling about the photo.
I noticed the fields that surrounded the country road; they were strangely flat and alien. Then I noticed the collection of indistinct buildings behind the girl, either out of focus or made fuzzy through clouds of smoke. And the girl was upset, holding her arms away from her sides. Other kids ran beside her. A few soldiers, apparently indifferent, watched them as they passed.
I frowned. My gaze flicked quickly from the girl to the soldiers, back to the girl again. It was as if my eyes had become confused, unsure of where to settle. I wasn't even sure what they were settling on.
'Fuck,' I muttered and shut the book with a snap.
Mister Duck sat up. 'I'm sorry, Rich,' he said. 'But I've already warned you about swearing once. This time it's going to cost you.'

Jed's eyes were a little wider apart than mine, so it took some adjustment before I was seeing one crisp circle instead of two hazy ones. Then I had to scan slowly across the sea, steadying myself on my elbows as the tiniest movement sent the image a mile off track. It took me several seconds to find the strip of sand and the line of green palms, but once there I located the five familiar figures almost immediately. They were the same place they'd been yesterday morning, and nearly every morning for the past nine days. The only exception had been four days ago when the beach had been completely empty. That had caused us a bit of concern, until they reappeared from the tree-line a couple of hours later.
'They're still there,' I said.
'Up to anything?'
'Uh-uh.'
'Just lying there.'
'Looks like one is standing, but he isn't moving.'
'And you can count all five.'
I paused. 'Five, yeah. They're all there.'
'Good.' Jed coughed quietly into his hand. We had to be careful about noise, this close to the dope fields, and we couldn't smoke either, which didn't do much for my nerves. 'Good.'
My first day with Jed had started off badly. I'd woken up in a shit mood, the previous night's dream still clinging to me, faintly depressed about leaving the fishing detail. But as soon as he'd explained about the people I'd understood. Then I'd been thrown into a panic, saying, 'It's the worst-case scenario,' over and over like a mantra, while Jed waited patiently for me to calm down. It took some time, but eventually I stopped jittering long enough for him to get a word in, and I was able to take in the exact nature of the situation.
The good news was that Sal still didn't know about my indiscretion with the map. Jed had only told her that someone had turned up on the neighbouring island, but not that they might have a connection with me. As far as Sal was concerned, the reason I was working with Jed was because he'd got fed up with being alone and wanted a partner. The other good news was that the people had been hanging around on the island for two days before Sal had agreed to move me. So, if they were aiming for our beach, they were obviously finding it difficult to reach us.
On the downside, we had to assume that the people were aiming for the beach. We also had to assume that two of them were Zeph and Sammy, and the other three were the Germans Jed had seen on Ko Pha-Ngan. We couldn't be sure about this because the people were too small to make out clearly, even to see a flash of blond hair, but it seemed likely.
I'd spent the rest of that day in a state of shock, sitting with Jed's binoculars clamped to my face, convinced - every time one of them appeared to move - that they were about to start swimming towards us. But they didn't start swimming towards us. In fact, they barely budged from their patch of sand, occasionally taking a brief dip or disappearing into the jungle for a couple of hours. After three or four similar days had passed, my initial level of panic became impossible to sustain. It faded, mellowing into anxiousness, finally settling as a generalized tension. With the tension I was able to think more clearly, and in a manner of speaking, relax. That was when the other aspects of my new detail began to emerge.
The first was getting to know Jed. We spent every hour until nightfall sitting on a rocky outcrop at the highest point of our island, and aside from the spying, all we could do was talk. Mostly we talked about Plan B, which was what we were going to do when they finally got here. The only problem with Plan B was that, like most Plan Bs, it didn't exist. We had several options but could never agree on which one to take. The option I favoured was that Jed went down to intercept them and told them that they weren't welcome on the beach, but he didn't want to do that. Although he was sure he'd be able to make them leave, he was also sure that they'd go straight back to Ko Pha-Ngan and tell everyone what they'd found. Instead, Jed wanted to rely on the natural barriers the island put up. There was the swim, they had to get past the dope fields, find the lagoon, and then find a way of getting down to it. Jed was confident that this obstacle course would put them off, apparently unconcerned that it had failed to deter me, Étienne, Françoise, the Swedes and himself.
It was during one of our endless Plan B discussions that I discovered Jed had once watched me in exactly the same way as we were now watching Zeph and Sammy. He'd seen the spiv drop us off and when we'd made the swim he'd told Sal — which was why she, Bugs and Cassie had been ready to greet us when we reached the camp. This was the main function of his detail, as a look-out, and the dope collecting had been more of a sideline. He went on to tell me that since his arrival there had been three groups that had tried to find the lagoon. Two had given up at one or other of the obstacles. The one to get through had been the Swedes'.
Knowing this made me feel marginally less guilty about having given out a copy of the map, because people were managing to find their way to us anyway. Jed explained they'd have heard about the beach as the Eden rumour Zeph had described. Jed himself had heard it from a guy in Vientiane, and 'with nothing better to do' he'd decided to follow it up. He'd had to check out six other islands in the marine park before finding the right one. The Swedes had gone on more concrete information. They'd overheard Sal talking with Jean on a Chaweng Rice Run.
It came as a surprise to me to hear that acting as a look-out was the primary function of my new detail. I couldn't understand why the job needed to be clouded in so much mystery, and Jed, in turn, was a little surprised to hear that the mystery existed. He admitted that Sal didn't want it talked about as she felt it would be bad for the atmosphere, but as far as he was concerned, the main reason he didn't talk about it was because nobody ever asked him.
This had led to my most interesting revelation about Jed, connected to Daffy's reaction to his uninvited arrival on the beach. I remembered Keaty telling me that the camp had listened outside the longhouse while Daffy shouted and Sal tried to calm him down. What I didn't know was that Daffy had refused to speak to Jed from that day on. For the thirteen months until Daffy had left the island, he and Jed had never exchanged a single word. It had been the original reason for the creation of Jed's detail — to keep him away from the rest of the camp for most of the day.
I felt a great deal of pity for Jed when he told me this. It explained why he'd always seemed so distant from the rest of us. His apparent aloofness was only because he felt he ought to keep out of people's way, even now that a year and a half had passed. It also explained why he so conspicuously accepted unpopular tasks, such as the Rice Run.
But Jed didn't appear to feel any pity for himself. When I suggested to him that it must have been hard to have faced such a cold reaction, he shrugged and said he could understand it.
'Something's bothering me,' I said, putting down Jed's binoculars.
Jed frowned. 'You and me both.'
'I'm afraid they'll find my rucksack.'
'...Your rucksack?'
'I hid my rucksack there, and so did Étienne and Françoise. We couldn't swim with them... and if they find our bags they'll know they're on the right track.'
'...How well did you hide them?'
'Pretty well. The thing is, I'm starting to think I might have copied the map down wrong. I drew it in a real hurry and there were a lot of islands to fill in. I remember there were differences between Daffy's map and the map in Étienne's guidebook too. I easily could have missed out an island between Ko Phelong and here.'
Jed nodded. 'It's possible.'
'So if they reckon they're on the right island, that explains why they haven't moved for the last nine days. They're checking the place out, looking for the beach... which they won't find... but they might find the rucksacks.'
'It's possible,' Jed repeated. 'But they might also have spent the last nine days wondering how the fuck they're going to get back to Ko Pha-Ngan.'
'And wondering how they could have been so stupid as to believe in a map that someone slid under their door.'
'That would make them about as stupid as you then.'
'Stupid as me... Yeah.'
Jed scowled and ran his hands over his face. 'What I want to know is what they're doing for food and water.'
'Magi-Noodles and chocolate. That's what we did.'
'And water? They'd have needed to take a barrel of the stuff to have lasted this long.'
'Maybe there's a source on the island. It's high enough.'
'Must be... I'll tell you what, though, you're wrong about that map. Look at them. They sit on that one spot all fucking day. It faces us, right? So they
know
this is the right island. They're sitting there and trying to work out how to reach us...'
I sighed. 'You know what we should do?'
'No.'
'We should take the boat and head round to them. Then we get them on board, set a course for the open sea, and make them walk the plank. Problem solved.'
Jed tilted his head at the sky. 'OK, Richard, let's do it.'
'OK. Let's.'
'OK.'
'OK.'
We looked at each other briefly, then I went back to staring through the binoculars.