Page 51 of The Beach Holiday

Back in camp the men were getting treated like kings, lured in one hour at a time. That had to be what was happening. Because how could it be anything else? How could I be tending to Camp Z whilst Avril had fun with the men? I could almost hear the clock ticking as their time ran out.

After reporting back to Avril and sitting on the sidelines as a spectator for long enough that no one would suspect I was not really participating, I hiked up to Ula’s cabin, knocked hard on her door, and then, when she didn’t answer – not that I expected her to – I walked straight in. It was empty. I had a few hours before dinner and a small amount of vegetable prep to do. If I got lost in the depths of the forest for a while, I would be fine. But this time I looked upward instead of across. The hike to the top of the hill, I would take it carefully and slowly so that I didn’t fall once I got higher. Perhaps I might find Adi upthere to check he was okay. If I was discovered, I could say I was checking on him after the incident at Camp Z. Avril seemed protective of him and so I was sure she wouldn’t see it as anything other than what it was.

From Ula’s hut I looked at the surrounding shrubbery and trees that formed part of the small mountain that Totini boasted. I couldn’t see any obvious pathway and so I got closer to the foliage and there I could see where the branches had slightly parted over time and had formed a gap that was just big enough for a small skinny boy to slip through. I pushed through and found the space, continuing up the mountain for some time. This had to be one of Adi’s secret pathways. I felt a shiver of excitement at my discovery.

The terrain was rough and wild, and the incline was steep, but I kept going. It had been on my list of things I wanted to do when I first saw the mountain – if you could call it that – it was just a big rocky hill, really, but it was a challenge, and I liked a challenge. Besides, it seemed that Ula and Adi had places that they hid around the island, and I knew I wanted to become as familiar with these places as they were. The hill hadn’t looked that high from Ula’s hut and I had always looked up at it and thought that I would be able to get up there fairly easily. But my breath had become laboured and the sweat was slick along my back and forming around my temples, threatening to drip into my eyes.

Time passed and the tension on my calf muscles slackened. I was on even ground again. The trees and foliage made way for dusty ground and rocks. Lots of rocks. They ran right up to the edge where I now found myself looking down to my right. I could just about glimpse the sand, then I looked straight ahead and all I could see was the ocean. Some of the surroundingislands were visible but very far away and the sandbank I had been to once, where Clara had her accident, was a mere speck.

I shuddered at the sight of it now having not seen it since that day. I felt an overwhelming sense of sadness that the spearfishing day had been Clara’s last expedition. She had been a lover of life and adventure and, even though I’d only known her a short while, I missed her.

I stepped back from the ledge. I had felt a flutter of fear at how close I had come to it, how just a few more inches could have seen me teetering over the edge, how a further inch would have had me falling down over the rough terrain, probably smashing my skull and breaking my back.

The path expanded around, and I followed the dusty track until I hit rock. There was no way of getting any higher. Even though the rock went up another few feet, I wasn’t going to try and mount that for the sake of it. I was almost about to head back down, admitting defeat on this leg of the journey at having not discovered anything, but satisfied I had finally made it up, when the breeze blew a large section of foliage that was nestled against the rocks in front of me. The breeze moved some of the twigs a few inches and I caught a glimpse of something dark that looked like a gap, or a hole. I edged closer cautiously, in case it was an animal hole, and something might jump out at me. Although I wasn’t sure what it could be; the only animals on the island were cows, pigs and hens. But maybe there were some marsupials or reptiles living up here. I was still open to being surprised by this island. It seemed to have a lot more to offer, more than I knew right now.

I manually moved the bush this time and pushed it as far back as I could and there, just a few inches behind, was anopening into a rock. Large enough for a slim body to climb through.

I had come all this way; I wasn’t about to ignore it and just head off back down the cliff. I had to find out if anyone was or had been in there; maybe they were in there now.

‘Hello,’ I called into the hole.

My voice echoed back at me. There was some space in there. I wasted no time and clambered in. I had to remain on my hands and knees for a few feet. The walls above and either side of me were inches from my skin. I was surprised at how dry the rock smelt, and how cool it was in here.

After a few strides on all fours the space opened into a wonderful cave, something out of a child’s storybook. The sides of the walls had small nooks and were crammed with shells, dried seaweed, and pieces of driftwood. In one corner was a collection of shiny objects, bottle tops and pieces of shimmery wrappers presumably washed up on the shore. On one side were several blankets bunched up. I sat on my knees and looked around and saw what appeared to be a space a child would inhabit. Immediately the face of Adi came to me with his infectious smile.

Of course this was where he would live. It was dry, and cool and out of the way of the camp.

It felt very homely in here and I wished I could have stayed. But I knew I would need to start preparing dinner soon. Judging by the empty cave, I could for now presume it was Adi’s and that he was off somewhere around the island.

But just as I went to turn on my knees to clamber back out of the cave, I spotted a flash of faded pink in one of the nooks. I edged closer and saw that a large pile of shells was on top ofa notebook. The notebook I had been reading that had disappeared from the cabin. I snatched the book and a couple of shells fell onto the ground.

Damn it, Adi.

But how could I really be angry with him? There was no real malice behind taking it, judging by how much stuff was in here. It was like a magpie’s nest.

I went to scoop up the shells but spotted a shiny object amongst them.

I picked it up and saw it was a cupcake pendant.

Perhaps Adi had found it and collected it as a treasure, or more likely he had taken it like he had the other things – like the bread. I took one last look around the small space, feeling glad that Adi had somewhere he could come and he could feel safe and protected from the elements. But what I still hadn’t been able to work out yet was why Adi had been segregated in the first place. Even if his mother had abandoned him, why had he not been embraced by the other two mothers? Star had said that they had tried with him; they had made out he was untameable. I looked again around at the cosiness of the place, how this was clearly somewhere where Adi lived now. But only now it occurred to me that perhaps it was Adi’s own choice and that there was a reason he didn’t want to stay in camp. Adi was here because he was staying away.

38

NOW

I trace the pattern on the fabric of the sofa with my hand. I try to conjure an image of Avril. Her face is not entirely clear in my mind. Maybe I imagined the whole thing. It is always like that when you haven’t seen someone for a long time; eventually, their features become distorted in your mind, and you can no longer imagine them in full HD as you once could. Their face is a mere smudge of what it once had been and all you have left is the idea of what you thought they looked like.

Or maybe it was the dissociative amnesia, the condition I had been told I was suffering with. But all the while I was in the unit I saw so many vivid images. Apparently I had made some progress and that was why I was now here, at my parents’ house in Dorset. All this I knew. My parents talked regularly about things that they thought I would need a refresher on, likewho had married who and who was living where. I would one day remember, they said. But when they said that, a cold sweat came over me. I thought about the tens of images I had drawn that I had stuffed in my wardrobe at the unit. I had managed to tear each one into tiny pieces and then add them to a pile of rubbish I cleared out of my bedroom before I left. Images of men in cages, of the blood on the beach.

‘Tea?’ A voice filters through my thoughts and brings me back into the room. I look at my hand on the sofa. The woman who was asking if I would like tea had introduced herself to me as my mother yesterday and as it did with my sister, Jane, my mind is slowly opening doors to forgotten memories.

I look at the photos of me above the fireplace and running up the staircase, which I can see from where I sit. It’s like watching a weird, surreal film. Was this all just a dream, and would I wake up and feel more whole and complete?

I look up at my mother and accept the tea. It seems to create a sense of calm and unity in the room. There is even a plaque that reads,Where there is tea, there is hope,so I am investing in that for now.

My dad is reading the newspaper, occasionally filling me in with what is happening around the world. I don’t tell him that his words are making my head spin.

The tea tastes fine, but my mind buzzes with flavours I expect my senses to experience. But they don’t come. So I drink the tea with the milk and sugar the way I have been told I like it. My mother perches on the sofa at the other end of me, trying not to watch me, but I can feel the flickers of stares. She is waiting for me to get better as though that might happen with this first sip of tea, and I will suddenly stand up and shout, ‘I’m fine now,’and she could then go on to tell the story years later of how one sip of a brew made by my mother was all it took to cure me.

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