‘You didn’t, Jeffers. You were freaking out and you didn’t realize what you were doing. We’ll get through this. It’s going to be OK.’
He sits up and reaches out his arms. ‘Hug?’
I smile and lean in towards him. He holds me tightly, his hands gripping my shoulder blades. He really is scared. I can’t remember the last time he gave anyone a hug.
After I leave Jeffers in the shelter I head down to the beach, rather than return to the fire. So much has happened today that I need some time alone to clear my head. Danny shouts after me, demanding that I take my turn with the vodka, but, from the way his words slur together, it sounds as though he’s had his turn, my turn and then some. Honor, on the other hand, has barely said a word all evening. I’ve never seen her as tearful as she’s been this holiday. She’s always been a bit funny about showing a vulnerable side. She’s like a YouTuber, all smiles and fun when she’s the centre of attention, but I’ve seen sneak peeks of the other side, when I’ve stumbled across her and Danny, sitting alone. She speaks quietly and there’s a brittle tone to her voice that isn’t there when we all hang out together.
When we were twelve she turned up to our group holiday in the Lake District with just her mum. I wasn’t surprised. There had been a few holidays when one or the other of us had arrived with just one parent because of work or other issues. But it wasn’t until the very last day of the holiday, when I overheard my parents talking in their bedroom in hushed voices, that I found out that Honor’s dad had met someone on the internet and moved to Australia to be with her. You’d never have known that Honor’s dad had abandoned her, the way she behaved that holiday. She’d seemed the same as ever, maybe even happier and chirpier. Overcompensating, I guess.
Years earlier, when we were nine, it was Danny’s mum who didn’t show up. Even before the holiday I knew something was up because I heard my parents talking about her and Danny’s dad, and the minute I walked into the living room they swiftly changed the subject. They told me what had happened the next day and said I should be extra nice to Danny the next time I saw him. I could tell he’d changed the second he stepped out of his dad’s car. Instead of grinning widely and bouncing over to the rest of us as normal, he crossed his arms over his chest and glowered at us from across the car park. When we asked him how he was he said he didn’t want to talk about it. The rest of us let it drop but Jefferson refused to. I don’t know if he thought he was being funny, or if he was revelling in the fact that he’d finally found a button to push which would wind Danny up, but he wouldn’t stop asking him about his mum. When he said, ‘My mum says it’s good to talk about your feelings, why won’t you talk about yours?’ Danny went white and threw a punch. The next thing I knew they were on the ground, fists flying. I was terrified that one of them was going to die, but when they were pulled apart by Meg and Milo’s dad, their only injuries were a split lip and a bloody nose. Jeffers hasn’t mentioned Danny’s mum since. Neither has Danny.
As I reach the sea I can see the boat on the other side of the beach, gently bobbing on the waves. I don’t turn to get a better look. No one’s mentioned Anuman since Danny fell off the cliff, even though we had to walk straight past his body to get back to camp. I tried not to look at the boat but it was like telling myself not to breathe: I couldn’t help it. The sound of laughter from the camp drifts across the beach. Instinctively I pull the sleeves of my top down over my hands even though they’ve all seen my burns now. I saw Danny’s eyes roam across my arms as I sat on the beach with Milo, gasping for breath. I saw his reaction too – shock, then revulsion.
‘I don’t care what he thinks of me,’ I tell myself as I pinch the thin skin of my forearm until it smarts. ‘I don’t care what anyone thinks.’
I lie on my back, staring up into the inky black sky, listening to the sounds of the jungle and the gentle lapping of the sea, until my breathing starts to slow and my eyelids grow heavy. There’s a part of my brain needling at me to go back to the camp where it’s safe, but my limbs are heavy and leaden and the bigger part of my brain is adrift, thoughts muddling as I slip closer to sleep. Images appear and disappear behind my closed eyes – the sea, the glare of the sun, my parents’ faces, school, a packet of cigarettes, a bottle of cider, Tom.
And then I see the fire.
I sit up with a jolt, sand slipping between my fingers and stare, confused by darkness that surrounds me and the gentle lapping of the waves.
‘Jessie! Shit, sorry. You were asleep.’ Milo is crouched beside me, a bottle of rum in his hand. ‘You were so still and, after everything that’s happened today, I was scared you were…’ he tails off, shaking his head and takes a swig from the bottle. ‘Never mind.’ He passes it to me. ‘Want some?’
‘Sure.’ I reach for it. The rum warms my throat, then I feel it hit my stomach. I haven’t eaten much today, none of us have. That’s why everyone’s so pissed on a few swigs of vodka.
‘You doing OK?’ Milo props himself up on one elbow and looks at me. ‘I still can’t get my head around what’s happened.’
My gaze drifts towards the boat, gently bobbing near the shoreline, and Anuman’s boots sticking out from beneath the tarpaulin, casting a dark shadow onto the sea. ‘I know what you mean.’
‘I just… I keep expecting someone to pop out from the jungle and shout, Surprise! You’re on a new reality TV show. Anuman isn’t really dead and you’re not really marooned.’ He reaches for the rum and takes a swig. His eyes meet mine as he lowers the bottle. I feel sick, knowing he saw me in my underwear earlier, my skin all twisted and red.
A frown creases Milo’s brow. ‘You sure you’re OK?’
‘Yeah, just um… just worried about Jeffers. He’s blaming himself for what’s happened.’ I lie back in the sand and stare up at the stars.
Milo shuffles onto his back and does the same. ‘It’s not his fault. But I still want to know what’s in his bag!’ He laughs and, out of the corner of my eye, I see him turn his head to look at me. ‘Do you think he’s hiding something?’
‘What like?’
‘I dunno. A severed head.’ He laughs again. ‘This island would be a pretty good place to dispose of body parts.’
‘That’s sick.’
‘I wasn’t suggesting we actually do it. Unless, you know, you fancy offing Meg.’
‘Why would I want to do that?’
‘She keeps giving me evils.’
I laugh. ‘She’s your sister. She’s always done that.’
He doesn’t say anything for several seconds then he sighs heavily. ‘She’s pissed off with me and I’m not sure why.’
I turn to look at him. I want to tell him about the way Meg was watching me by the hotel pool the other evening but I don’t want to shit-stir for no reason. Meg and Milo are for ever falling out and, because they’re both as stubborn as each other, they can go for days without talking. But then one of them will finally relent, there’ll be a raging row and they’ll make up again.
‘Have you talked to her?’ I ask.