Page 17 of The Beach Holiday

THEN

The roosters woke me again. I felt as though I had been in a coma.

My head was throbbing with what? Heat? Tiredness?

I couldn’t figure it out. My body was also aching and as I stretched out one arm I could see a long red scratch from my wrist to my elbow from the forest yesterday.

I searched the room for water and found a bottle with a few dregs left beside the bed. I gulped the remaining liquid down.

I wished more than anything that Avril would fulfil her promise to me today.

Clara’s bed was empty again. She must be up and running at dawn.

I leaned down to my phone in my backpack.

It was officially dead. I hadn’t seen any of the women with phones although Avril had one when we were travelling here.

Was there somewhere to charge a phone here?

I had seen generators for refrigerating food but there was no Wi-Fi.

Maybe I could hitch a ride back to the neighbouring island and pick up some up there if I really wanted to call or text anyone, but I had messaged my parents and let them know I was travelling again.

These were all the things I told myself, but the niggle in the pit of my stomach was trying to intervene, telling me I needed to be connected to the world.

But I knew it was my Western roots poisoning my organic experience.

I needed to learn to live freely. That was what I wanted, wasn’t it?

That was one of the main reasons I had run from England, to escape the constraints of life with Bruno.

I eventually gave up on sleep, crept from the cabin and picked my way down the path to the camp and then back out onto the front beach.

This beach wasn’t quite as beautiful as the one further up by Ula’s hut.

It had a more rustic feel; it was used more often for campfires and there were some cricket posts made from driftwood stuck in the sand waiting for a game to resume at any point.

I felt unsettled as I fell onto the sand and tried to concentrate on the sky turning from a bright orange to a light turquoise as the sun rose.

It was cooler out here than in the cabin and I was sure I’d be able to fall asleep here for an hour.

I wondered what my third day here would entail.

I began to ponder how the camp was divided into tasks and duties, how they filled each hour and made the time count yet lived without expectations or rules.

But the mere thought of work made me realise I was still tired. I laid my head on the sand, curled into a foetal position, and felt the weight of sleep.

I woke suddenly to the sound of a child’s laughter. I sat up, disorientated, unable to remember why I was on the beach and not in my cabin, and then I remembered the beautiful sunrise. The sun was higher in the sky. The temperature must have been getting on for the late twenties already.

A few feet away from me were the two children on the island, the young girl and boy.

They both had dark hair so maybe they were siblings.

They were playing on the sand; there were no adults in sight.

Just then, I noticed, out of the corner of my eye a small object a few inches away from me.

I reached out and picked it up. It was a rudimentary doll carved from wood and about six inches high.

It had a basic round head and straight arms and legs, with a face scratched into the front of the head, which a child itself could have done.

But it was the hair that was the most prominent on the doll.

Several thick strands of the blondest locks had been attached to the scalp area.

I inspected the head and I could see it had been done with strong glue.

I touched the hair, reached to my own long light brown hair, and touched it.

The texture was identical. This was real hair.

Not unusual, I presumed, to create a toy out of whatever materials were to hand and one of the women must have given up a few extra locks to help make the doll.

But I thought back to the women I had seen and met in camp.

There were only two women I had seen tending to the children, I was sure one or both of them was the mother and they both had dark hair.

‘Hey!’ I called croakily to the little girl. She turned from where she was knelt next to the boy. ‘Come here.’ I waved her over. She came without hesitation and stood in front of me. I sat up and handed her the doll.

‘Is this yours?’ I asked.

‘Yes,’ she said with a slight lisp.

‘Does she have a name?’

‘Deny.’

‘Deny? That’s a lovely name.’

She took the doll from me and ran off, laughing as she did, until she rejoined the boy and settled back into the sand.

I heard a voice from the clearing in the woods and looked up. It was one of the mothers I tried to cast my memory back to a few nights ago when I was introduced to everyone, but it was hard to remember names on so little sleep whilst acclimatising to new surroundings.

The woman looked at me and smiled as the little girl and boy went running over to her.

‘Breakfast is ready,’ she called to me this time and I waved my hand in thanks.

As I walked back through the woods, I could hear a cacophony of sound coming from the camp.

The clanking of pans, people calling to one another, the cockerels still making shrill calls, and then the welcoming smell of the tomatoes sizzling over an open fire.

As I reached the woods, I saw the iron kettle hanging above the fire, and a large pot of something simmering on the other side.

I stepped carefully over to the pot and peered inside.

There were about two dozen eggs inside. I looked to my right.

On a large board was a huge loaf of bread.

Then I noticed an oven fashioned from bricks and clay and realised that was where it had been baked.

I felt a small swell of joy rise through me and for a moment a sense of complete contentment: as though this was it, life was happening as I wanted and needed it to and I had finally arrived.

After breakfast, Avril still hadn’t emerged. I ate my eggs and tomatoes as though it were my first proper meal in a year. Clara appeared as I finished.

‘And how is our newest member of the camp?’ she asked, showing me where the dishes were washed and left to dry, ready for dinner.

I could smell body odour – was this how I would soon smell?

Was this the signature cologne of the camp?

I didn’t mind it and I realised I had always liked it, both on myself and on others.

But it hadn’t felt acceptable to be aroused by it back home where men I knew covered themselves in every type of spray and aftershave.

Bruno was a serial showerer, sometimes twice a day.

Now I thought about it I wondered why we continued to mask our true scent.

But then living in the UK, we masked a lot more than the way we smelt.

‘I’m well, thank you. A little tired. My body is used to the heat, but it feels different here.’

‘Everything is different here.’ Clara laughed and I laughed with her, a light relief of comedy amongst the swell of questions still thick in my mind.

‘I don’t suppose we can charge phones here, can we?’

Clara looked serious and then laughed again. I was still for a moment and then I laughed with her again. Of course not, I thought. What a ridiculous notion. Why would the community want their beautiful island exposed to the world?

‘You get used to it,’ she said earnestly. ‘It’s not as bad as you think.’

I shook my head. ‘Oh I know, I was never obsessed with my phone, and I always wanted to be somewhere I could just switch off.’

‘Well, you’ve found it.’

I found it hard to imagine someone like Clara fitting in and literally switching off.

She didn’t have the same worn-in look as the rest of the women here.

They all looked as though they had a part of the island living within them, as though the sea and sand had made their way into their skin.

Clara looked as though she were visiting with her smart sportswear and her pristine tied-back blonde hair.

‘You look tired though,’ she said conveniently just as I was thinking how well-turned-out she looked. ‘Your body will soon catch up with the different pace of life here and you’ll be sleeping like a baby in no time. Have you had enough breakfast?’

‘I have, thank you.’

‘Did you try our eggs? The hens lay so many. That used to be my job, to look after the hens, feed them, put them away each night – so they lay in the morning in the same spot.’

‘So what’s your job now?’ I asked keen to know. I was thinking about what my role might be in camp.

Clara looked away and mumbled something about helping Avril out with things now. She didn’t want to discuss it, or it was menial maybe? But what could be more menial than looking after hens?

‘I think you’ll be very happy here, Sadie. We need a strong woman like you here.’

I laughed. ‘Strong,’ I repeated.

You’re nothing.

‘Often we don’t see what others see in ourselves.

You are more than what you think you are.

I hope your time here will show you that.

One of the things Totini urges in us all is to let go of all those doubts and constraints you have put on yourself.

Labels. You know the thing Western society does to you without you knowing.

Here you can feel and be whomever you want.

You can experience whatever you want. You can try new things and not feel shame. Do you know what I mean?’

I looked at her and nodded, feeling her words, wanting them to embed into me. I wanted to lose all inhibitions and to live each moment without any feeling of fear or worry.

‘Right, I’m tired. I need to have a nap.’ Clara stretched and I was keen to know what job she had that got her up so early, meaning she was tired by breakfast. I watched her walk away back to our hut.