Page 12 of The Beach Holiday

THEN

I pulled on a T-shirt and light sweatshirt, which both smelt of the fire from last night’s dinner.

I thought of the kava; I had drunk way more than I had intended, yet still, I was sure I had been sensible with my portions, not wanting to be tripping out on my first night on a new island.

When I reached the water’s edge, the stillness of dawn thrilled me.

The sky glowed pink and orange, and my spine tingled as a warm breeze grazed my bare legs.

Waves gently lapped at the shore and I looked out across the expanse of sea in front of me, unable to believe there was so much of it between me and anyone I knew back home.

Yet the sight and feel of it all, knowing that I was here and I had only to share it with a handful of others, excited me and I fell to the ground and let the waves lull me back into a melodic state.

I was still wrapped in the warm fuzzy blanket of sleep that I found it easy to bring myself back to an even breathing rhythm.

And even though those thirty other women were just a few hundred yards away from me, I could have been entirely alone.

I imagined for a moment that I was alone and solitary, like a castaway.

I wondered what I would do and how I would survive.

Even with my campmates around me, I was still in a situation where I needed to consider my survival.

I was no longer on the mainland; I no longer had a job or income.

I would need to do whatever everyone else here did to survive, and I hoped I could adapt.

I had come to Fiji to escape Bruno, yet he had still penetrated my thoughts for the last month.

And sometimes, much to my annoyance, images of the better times plagued me at moments when I was feeling weak from lack of sleep or just too much alcohol.

Or now, when I had thrust myself into another new situation just a few weeks after fleeing the country.

But for the first time, since I had crossed the International Date Line, I felt a simmering of contentment, enough to recognise what I had done, what I had achieved.

I had come far enough away and not just in miles.

We no longer shared the same day, which felt like I was further away.

I felt like one of those people creating mantras for their life and sticking to them.

You’re nothing.

He was still in my head, but already his words were a little quieter.

I could finally hear my own words and thoughts taking shape.

I knew that the power of this island could make space for me to heal and I had only been here a matter of hours.

I had seen it on the faces of the women who were here already and I knew that could be me too.

‘Wow.’ I breathed the word out loud. I thought I heard the words echo back at me, and I looked around to see if I had missed someone approaching. Sometimes the quiet played tricks with my ears, I was so unused to silence at that level.

The beach was empty, a prospect that might have terrified me a year ago because I had been used to sitting in the houses of others, listening to their DIY anecdotes, feeling as though I needed to be surrounded by so many other people, even though I had nothing in common with them, just so I could feel less alone because that was how I thought I needed to be.

Society had taught me that I needed constant distractions and affirmation for the smallest of achievements.

I thought about the other women sleeping in their huts.

I thought about the kinship, the sisterhood I was about to be a part of.

I hoped I would finally be surrounded by like-minded people who only needed the basics to get by and who had lifetimes of stories to tell.

First, I wanted to speak with Avril, to ask why she didn’t tell me before that it was a female-only commune, or that we needed three modes of transport to get here.

Did she think that may have deterred me?

Now I was here, though, and the initial surprise had worn off, I was content to share the next however long of my journey here in Fiji with only women.

I looked to the left and to the right and tried to envisage how big the island was.

I guessed at about two hundred acres in size.

Fairly small compared to some of the other islands I had heard of and also Kenco from where we had just come.

I imagined I could walk around it in two hours.

I looked up to see a small hiking trail that led up to the highest point, which was probably about eighty metres, and led to a small cliff that overlooked the front beach, but it also looked dangerous.

There were lots of rocks on the way down and if you fell I imagined it could be fatal.

Yet, I was excited by the prospect of getting up there and exploring and I knew I would want to check that out as soon as possible, whilst being extra vigilant.

I couldn’t get any further off the beaten track, yet somehow I wanted more.

The sky had begun to change colour again.

Golden streaks of light were breaking through a thin layer of cloud, a golden ball was peeking up from the horizon and I could see the sky had lightened to a dark blue.

‘It’s beautiful isn’t it?’

I saw a pair of legs. I looked up and a woman in denim shorts and white vest standing next to me, her hands on her hips, her shoulders thrust backward, looking out towards the sea and beyond.

There had been a lot of us at dinner and I couldn’t place her face.

Despite my tired and drunken state last night, I noted how all the women who were there seemed to curve into their surroundings, as though the island and they had become one. They all had a worn-in look.

‘Hi.’ She held her hand out to shake mine and I jumped to my feet to greet her standing.

‘I’m Precious.’

I smiled at the name.

‘I know,’ Precious said. ‘It’s pretentious as hell. But I’m owning it. It’s my birth name; I’m not a hooker or a stripper.’ She laughed and her eyes twinkled.

I clung to her hand, not feeling I needed to let go immediately. She was slim all over, with thin arms and slender fingers. Her long brown hair was neatly tied back into a ponytail. It was nice to hear an English accent.

‘I like it. Sorry if you’ve had to say that to everyone you’ve ever met. I’m Sadie.’

‘I’ve said it once or twice.’ She laughed again and we dropped hands. ‘It’s nice to meet you, Sadie. I retired pretty early last night, so we didn’t have the pleasure. But there are a few of us here so I’m sure you were spoilt for conversation.’

‘The conversation,’ I said. ‘What was that again? After several kavas I could barely remember my own name. My room buddy put me to bed.’ I chuckled.

‘Ahh, the kava. I rarely participate myself. Only on special occasions. Not that last night wasn’t a special occasion, I just really wanted to be up early with a fresh head today.’

‘I imagine there must be loads of special occasions what with thirty women on the island.’

‘Oh, more than you would think.’ Precious raised her eyebrows, suggesting a sense of wickedness, and I imagined the women celebrating birthdays in true style. I felt a shiver of excitement at the prospect of the soirees and conversations ahead of me.

We both looked back at the horizon in companionable silence. Then Precious lifted her skinny arms over her head, her shoulder bones clicking from the stretch.

‘Has anyone shown you the island yet?’

‘I was here just before dinner yesterday so, no.’

‘Well, that is good. I was a castle tour guide in my teens and I consider myself the best woman for the job here, don’t let anyone tell you differently. I imagine Avril wanted to do it.’ I detected a bend in her tone when she mentioned Avril’s name. ‘But I beat her to it, so come on.’

Precious began walking the opposite way from the camp to the open stretch of beach. She sounded as excited as a young girl, and her enthusiasm was infectious. Despite my heavy head from a day’s travelling, I found myself trotting excitedly after her.

How fast a sunrise is, I thought, having never seen that many before in my life, I had always imagined them as a long process. But before I knew it the sun was up and ready to serve the day as if it hadn’t been hiding all night.

‘I’ve come here often,’ Precious said. ‘To see the sun rise. It doesn’t get boring.’

‘That’s good to know. I was amazed. I’m glad that the wow factor isn’t going anywhere.’

‘The wow factor,’ Precious repeated. I could hear a smile in her voice. I wasn’t sure if she was mocking me.

We found ourselves at the curve of the island and sands even whiter than the ones I’d seen on any beach so far.

Baby black-tip reef sharks were swimming in the shallows, and I stepped towards the waters and paddled as we walked, watching how they dared to swim close to me before swerving away.

As we walked I saw perched on some rocks, almost entirely hidden by foliage and small bushes, streaks of wood.

It looked like some sort of outbuilding or another hut.

I moved from the water and pointed it out to Precious.

‘What’s that up there?’

‘It’s what was left over when a small tribe was living here some thirty or forty years ago. I think it was used for storing medicines. And now, Ula lives there.’

‘Someone lives there?’ I asked.

Precious was looking away towards the sea as I strained to see the hut as it was almost entirely encased by foliage.

‘Ula. She prefers to live alone. It’s her choice. We just let her get on with it.’ There was little warmth to Precious’s tone.