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The campmates went on about their days, and as I moved into my second and then third week on the island, I felt a hardeningdevelop. Where I had been affected so much by things like Ula living alone and then Clara being carried away in the woods – to die alone – I now felt as though I had lost a fraction of empathy, and in its place, I had grown a thicker piece of skin. Was that the piece of myself that I had to lose to enjoy the paradise that Avril had talked of? It didn’t feel wrong; that was for sure. I understood that was how people had to be here to have some existence. If they were constantly pent up with daily frustrations, emotions and worries, what was the point? Life wasn’t perfect anywhere, I had now come to understand; it was how you chose to live it regardless of whatever else was going on around you.
Surrender a piece of yourself for paradise. That was the mantra. I could do that.
The hardening was also showing on the outside too. My hair was dry and was beginning to mat at the ends. I hadn’t brought any conditioner with me and I was considering not washing it for a few weeks and allowing the natural oils to seep through. My fingernails were dirty, my skin a little burnt and crispy; my feet were hardening where I was walking barefoot every day.
But still within me, a softness lay for the things I missed, like my family and the few friends I cared enough about. And I missed Clara. I had longed for her company when she had been convalescing. Now I understood that Avril and the others all knew the wound was eventually going to kill her and they took her away somewhere quietly to do so. But I was haunted by images of Clara in her last days and hours. How had she been feeling? What had she been thinking? She had no one there with her in the end and I felt a weight of responsibility for that.I should have pushed harder to see her, to be with her, even if it was only to hold her hand.
But somehow the very act of death felt less apparent here. It went hand in hand with the way of life because there was so very little else to worry or care about; it seemed less significant. It was as though, in the UK, we were so consumed with so many other irrelevant things from food to shopping to work to clothes, and fashion and celebrity, that when a death occurred it became amplified, as though we were glad of the distraction from all the other bullshit. We relished it; we absorbed ourselves within it. Here on Totini, we were animals. A member of our pack had died, and we were all carrying on. I was trying to carry on, and I knew I would have to hide my sadness because there was little room for it here.
Because apparently my cooking had been such a hit I had been allocated the role of camp cook three times a week. But I knew this was Avril’s way of distracting me from Clara. It fulfilled my need to produce something for the camp, but not so much that I became frustrated by having to do it all the time. Others liked to cook too and especially when meat was involved. There wasn’t a lot of meat to eat on the island, but also adopting a more plant-based lifestyle seemed appropriate for somewhere like Totini, and there was a lack of cold areas to contain the slaughtered meat. But when we did eat it, it felt like a special occasion. Everyone seemed to revel in eating it as though it were something sacred. Which I appreciated as that was how it should be. Mass meat farming and consumption disgusted me now. I had almost begun to lose track of the days, and time was also not something I thought about often. Mealtimes were not taken on the hour but whenever food was readyor when people began to gather around the camp or the gong was sounded.
If I just continued the way I was, memories of Clara might eventually fade. I wanted to talk about Clara eventually, but even thinking her name brought tears to my eyes. However, I wasn’t going to just give up and ask to return home. I felt I had so much to prove to Avril, Kali, the rest of the camp and myself.
Avril found me after breakfast one morning, a few weeks after Clara’s death. I had been spending a lot of time on my own and admittedly kept my distance from her. Words kept coming at me, half-formed sentences, fuelled by an anger I didn’t want to feel here. The two were incompatible: utopia and this rage that was bubbling up within me. I didn’t want it to become something more, something so fierce that it erupted. That kind of anger was the worst, the hardest to clear up and to make excuses for. I knew, I had been the recipient once. I wondered if Avril was about to become the recipient because I was so frustrated with her, yet she had already done so much for me. Gave me this opportunity, which I knew wasn’t given to just anyone.
I was struggling with the emotions I was feeling. One minute I longed for the attention that Avril gave me, the way she made me think that I was strong and capable and reminded me that the reason I was here was to grow. The next minute that rage was there, simmering. I knew it could only be because of Clara’s death. But maybe it was all the other little things, like the way Avril had lied to me about how far away the island was. Exactly how remote it was and cut-off from civilisation I was going to be. Although I had formed bonds with most ofthe women here, it was Clara I had gelled with the most. I just couldn’t let it go the way the rest of the women had. I wasn’t there yet.
‘Are you okay?’ Avril asked. She had been asking me this often and I appreciated her checking in with me.
I nodded. I didn’t want to be the only one who showed any signs of distress over Clara.
‘Why don’t you and I have a picnic tonight? On our own. On the beach.’
I felt my spirit lift. I had been feeling the familiarity of each day and with the nagging thoughts of Clara, I would do anything to forget for a while.
We left the camp just before sunset with a basket of food plus a small amount of kava. I had taken to drinking it more often since the morning that Avril broke the news about Clara’s death. It helped to tone down any sudden emotions. There seemed to be an abundance of it anyway, so why not use it to my advantage? It helped me sleep during the very hot nights as well.
The sun was lowering and we would need to hurry if we were going to make the sun setting.
‘You look lovely,’ I said as we walked. I wanted to appease Avril, to make up for my absence in mind and negative vibes of the last few weeks.
‘Thanks.’ She smiled.
Avril had pinned her hair to one side and had put a pink flower in it. She was wearing her green sarong and a turquoise bikini top. I was wearing shorts and a bikini top. ‘I should have made more of an effort,’ I said looking down at my attire.
‘I hope you understand I’ve been in shock these last few weeks.’
‘Over Clara – of course, Sadie. Why wouldn’t you be? Clara was your room buddy and I know you two got on well.’
‘I just didn’t expect anything like that to happen here.’
‘We’re not immortals, Sadie,’ Avril said. ‘We’ve lost people in the time we’ve been here.’
I immediately wanted to ask who and I thought of Ula alone on the cliff. Had she lost someone?
We began the walk to the beach.
‘And I need to apologise too, Sadie. I’ve been a little absent in mind and body since you got here. A lot has been going on. Things have been... evolving. And the women, they look to me to resolve everything, and sometimes, I can’t, you know.’
‘Things are a little different to how I imagined them to be.’ I had an image of Clara in my mind, her smiling face already a blur and fading.
‘I can see that,’ Avril responded.
‘I mean it’s beautiful. I’m just intrigued...’ I spoke slowly, trying to choose the right words ‘...how differently people react, like to Clara for example. I was horrified; I won’t lie. But everyone took it in their stride.’ I looked at Avril. ‘As though it happened every day.’ I laughed uncomfortably. I thought it was almost as though they were desensitised to it. But I didn’t say those words, because I was scared to even think them. Because how could I truly exist somewhere where death was ignored?
‘It is a very different way of life here and most women have seen a lot in their lives, which is why they have chosen this existence, something pure, no dramas. You know. They just want to live in the moment, most of the time.’
I nodded, but I was thinking about how things might evolve from here. Would I stop being my complete self? Would I stop feeling sorrow, horror and anger because I was now an inhabitant of this island? They were all valid emotions. To suppress them would be to stop being who I was. Or to be human. I know I wanted to change and grow, become stronger away from Bruno, but I didn’t want this as well.