Becoming Strangers Read online

  'It was a miracle,' he said, after a while. 'I was an atheist, and then I was a believer.'

  'Ask and you will receive...' said Laurie. 'Yes, I remember.'

  39

  STEVE BURNS WAS FEEDING THE FISH down at the jetty, waiting for the Americans to come back in. He was also supervising the efforts of his staff to assemble tables for the beach barbecue that evening. The fish were thronging in the water, riding across each other to get at the pieces of white bread, like sardines in a snow-dome.

  It was not important that one's ideas were very good or even exceptional, just that one had lots of them and made one or two happen, he thought. He would use this notion at the staff meeting. He turned his back on the fish, letting a hot dog bun fall whole. Take this evening's event, the mere fact that it was taking place was something. The guests seemed to be discontented this week, they couldn't relax. He had to provide entertainment, something that was rarely required. A boy came past him with buckets full of fruit, another followed picking up the pineapples and mangoes that had fallen on to the beach. There was a whole world of difference between an idea and an event. Think, it could have all fallen apart so easily! They had not been able to find sufficient cable to extend to the turntables, so they would use a ghetto blaster instead and pitch this as a sort of teenage cutoffs-and-bare-feet affair. It would appeal to the nostalgia of his greying clientele. Jiving on the beach, necking in the dunes, waking down by the surf; with your wallet gone and someone's knickers in your pocket ... He grinned, remembering an adolescence he'd never had. His own had been hashed out according to the mood engendered by a bottle of cider in a field and a puff on someone's cigarettes at school or a pint of cocktail and a tab of acid at Poly He couldn't wait to get the fuck away from it all.

  The yacht came up alongside the jetty, the Captain was standing out at the front, with a rope ready to throw to secure it, finally. He motioned that Steve should tie them to the wharf and Steve started to do so, but no sooner was he looping the rope when the Captain jumped down and undid what he had done.

  'Have a good afternoon?' said Steve, proffering his hand. 'Steve Burns, manager here.'

  The Captain looked at him, nodded without interest and jumped back onto the boat. The Americans came forward as if they were very tired, only the Dutch woman seemed ready to disembark. She had a shoulder bag tight under her arm and was frowning at the gap between the boat and the jetty. He held out his hand to her.

  'Well, how nice,' she said, suddenly smiling, 'how nice.' Her hand was dry and firm. He thought of the first girl he kissed, whose hands had been the same way and whose mouth had been unyielding. Harriet. He could remember her name even now. He had not liked her. An old soul, an old body, a misery-guts, at fourteen years old.

  'You are most welcome,' he said with a flashy smile, his best, seeing Jason and Missy hand-in-hand, behind the woman.

  'Ahoy there!'

  'Not much in the way of fish,' said Jason, giving Burns an angry look as the man reached for Missy's two hands. With a foot against the side of the boat, his reach overextended, his balance going, Burns's shoe slipped, he fell forward suddenly and Missy faltered. Her husband caught her by her upper arms and hauled her back.

  'Jesus Christ,' he shouted.

  Burns righted himself, his hands splayed against the rim of the boat, his cheek pressed to the boat.

  'I'm fine, I'm fine,' he said quickly, bent over and walking himself backwards with his hands. 'Don't worry, fine, fine.'

  'I don't think he's worried about you,' said the Dutch woman.

  Jason was examining his wife. Are you okay, baby?' She nodded. 'You fucking idiot, she could have had an accident!'

  'I'm so sorry' said Burns, his jaw aching but steeling himself not to touch it. There was the right thing to do. It was to soldier on, to assist them all off the boat, to make light of it, but it seemed he'd done something for which there were no amends. He thought of the outrage of Harriet's mother when he ate the last piece of cake at her party, having already had one, unaware that it had been reserved for the birthday girl. 'You're such a greedy boy,' she had said, annoyed, 'a horrible greedy pig of a boy.'

  He turned on his heel and walked up the beach towards the steps that led to the hotel.

  40

  ANNEMIEKE RECEIVED JAN into their room with a bitter silence. She asked him if he'd enjoyed himself—with the Chinese lady. He told her he had; that the Chinese lady was charming, as were the others. It had been wonderful. He did not tell her about the skinny-dipping. He asked her how her day had been. She shrugged.

  'There's a barbecue party starting at seven-thirty,' she said.

  'It won't matter if we're late,' he said, seeing the book on the side table by the French doors, the hotel Bible well concealed by the cover of Jacques Barzun's From Dawn to Decadence: 500 years of Western Cultural Life. It was a silly thing, really, but what Bill had said had touched him. He had been trying to read it in order; now he had the idea of reading wherever the pages fell. A sort of Russian roulette in which one hopes to acquire eternal life.

  'It will matter to me. I'd like to go. You've had the entire day on the beach whereas I've been on a boat. If I'd known you were all going to the beach I would have come.'

  'I don't think it was really planned out. It just happened.' It was either his wistful tone or the fact that he was picking up the book that made her angry.

  'You haven't even asked about my day.'

  'I did,' he said.

  'No you did not.'

  It was stupid, he wanted to laugh, but he saw that there was a thorn stuck in her animal side.

  'I expect the three of you men had your eyes hanging out watching the Chinese woman undress.'

  He said nothing.

  'Lucky for you I didn't come. Is she with Bill or is she unattached?'

  'Unattached, I think.'

  'Well, you can do as you like, for all I care.'

  'How about you, did you find yourself some nice company? Tell me about your day.'

  'Well, there's nothing to say,' she said. 'Your wife was the odd one out. Everyone else was in couples. I was like the widow, already.'

  'Annemieke.'

  He let her shower first, and then while he stood under the jets of water he heard her cries of frustration about the bedroom as she tried to dress. She re-entered the bathroom still in her underwear to remove her lipstick and try another colour. When he put his fingers in his ears he could feel himself being swallowed up by the water; he let it run over his face. Opening his eyes, he saw her standing before him fully clothed, in a shift dress and matching heels.

  'The shoes don't go,' she said.

  'They look fine. You look good.'

  'The shoes don't go. The heels will get stuck in the sand.' She left the bathroom.

  'A funny thing happened today,' she said, when he came out. From the bed, she sat, knees crossed, watching him don the usual long-sleeved white shirt and navy knee-length shorts. 'The manager dropped the American's wife, Missy, when he was helping her off the boat.'

  'Was she okay?'

  'Oh sure. You know how these American women are though, she made a big deal.'

  'She was shocked.'

  'Not as shocked as Mr Burns. He hit his face on the side of the boat.'

  'That must have hurt,' said Jan, sitting down beside her to pull on his socks.

  'The American called him a fucking idiot.'

  'That's a bit strong.'

  Annemieke laughed and put the palm of her hand against his cheek. He was relieved. He sat beside her and put his hand on her knee, holding it there to steady both of them. She was shaking with laughter and he was simply shaking.

  41

  ANNEMIEKE WAS WARMLY WELCOMED back into Bill's party that evening. They ate together, standing, and made quips about the meal being somewhat differently provisioned than the one they'd had earlier. There were knives and forks and glasses and they helped themselves to a buffet of barbecued meats and seafood.

  '
So much meat, all the time,' said Annemieke, looking at Jan's plate, 'it can't be good for you. I like to eat more simply.'

  'Its nice to see you with your clothes on/ said Dorothy to Bill.

  'Chipolata anyone?' asked George, brandishing a small sausage on his fork. They laughed.

  'Och, it does the job, now,' said Bill.

  Annemieke put her plate down ostentatiously.

  'I've lost my appetite,' she said, her head turning aside, her eyes half-closed. Jan looked at her and then at Bill. Bill's smile faltered for a moment and Jan watched him recover it only to lose it again. He looked down at his plate to give the man the space to try again.

  The Chinese woman spoke. 'How was your boat trip, Annemieke?'

  'It wasn't a boat trip. These yachts, they're luxurious, both of them. She was shaking with laughter and he was simply shaking. beautifully appointed, beige leather in this case, throughout, and with a small staff. We had a fine lunch. We drank wine and sunbathed. We chatted about this and that. It was very classy. Those yachts are hundreds of thousands of dollars to buy, let alone the cost of the upkeep and the mooring. Thousands. The staffing and catering! I've been on them before so it wasn't new to me. All the same it is impressive.'

  Laurie nodded and started to say, In Hong Kong but she was cut short.

  'So did you join in the skinny-dipping?' Annemieke said, her eyes unwavering. The Chinese woman blushed.

  'We all did,' she said.

  Annemieke looked at Jan, 'Well, well. How energetic of you.'

  He knew what she was thinking. The Imaginary Invalid. She looked as if she had been cheated.

  "Alio, 'allo,' Adam lurched up alongside them, looking merry. He would insist, he said, on whisking one of the ladies away for a dance.

  Laurie allowed herself with good humour to be dragged down to the water's edge where a few people were dancing to the reggae music.

  'Someone's had a few,' George said, watching them go. 'Wonder what the boy's been doing today.'

  Adam was leaping around in the water, surrounding Laurie, baffling her with his staccato happy movements, whooping and cheering her to join in.

  'I'm a bit fucked up actually,' he said when he returned her.

  'What've you been drinking, son, your breath smells terrible,' said George, stepping back from him.

  'Ah, what haven't I been drinking,' said Adam with a wink.

  'No need to shout, I'm not mutton,' said George, disgruntled. Dorothy put her hand on his arm.

  Grabbing Annemieke's hand next, Adam took her off to dance and seeing that the Americans were now dancing and there was quite a crowd, she went.

  'What's wrong?' Jan asked George, seeing him staring after the boy.

  'I don't like to see a man in that state. Out of control like that.'

  'Oh, once in a while, a drink or two...' said Jan.

  'He's got a job here. He's looking for trouble. Did you ever turn up to your office blind drunk?'

  Jan shook his head. No, he'd never been there drunk, but he'd been there blind as an earthworm.

  The five of them watched Adam careen into other dancers, causing a woman to slip into the surf momentarily. She laughed and picked herself up while Adam apologized at great length, hanging on to her for support all the while.

  Steve Burns joined their group and exchanged pleasantries with his arms folded over his chest. With his chin slightly elevated, he certainly seemed the master of his domain, and yet Jan could only think of the American calling him a fucking idiot.

  Adam was holding on to Annemieke, listening to her while she was saying something. She seemed to be giving him some words of advice. He looked serious and nodded fervently. The two of them headed for the bar on the jetty. Jan watched as Annemieke took a drag from Adam's cigarette and knocked back a drink in a small glass. She was laughing too hard.

  'Oh dear,' Jan said, 'and now we have a problem.' Two more drinks were put in front of the pair and promptly swallowed and they were back down by the sea, with Adam steering a volatile course, barging into other dancers.

  'Looks like the party's hotting up,' said Burns contentedly. 'Good to see you lot letting your hair down. That's what it's all about.' He smiled. 'Is that Adam?' he asked, squinting in the half-light. The music had changed and Adam was leaping and pogoing in front of Annemieke who was laughing and clapping her hands. Jan knew that this performance was aimed at him. Either side of the couple, people moved away. Adam was now splashing Annemieke with water and her dress was rapidly becoming see-through. Holding her by the wrist, he led her to the bar, where they drank another glass of spirits each, down in one.

  George and Dorothy bade the group a good night and Jan watched the old couple make their way up the beach with short and tired footsteps as if their shoes hurt them. He saw George turn back and, meeting his look, nod. Then George shook his head at the bar and Jan swallowed hard. Poor decent George, he too knew what this was all about and he would not stay to see it.

  Jan walked over to the bar and stood beside the new teenagers.

  'All right, Jan, mate, have a drink,' said Adam, giving him a cursory look, intent all the time on the barman's work. 'That's not a full measure,' he said.

  'Are you drinking?' Annemieke asked without looking at her husband.

  'No, I'm fine, thanks,' he said.

  'Come on, Adam,' she said. Steve Burns came up to them and put a hand on Adam's shoulder.

  'Listen,' he said quietly, 'a word. Finish your drink and get yourself off home now.'

  'Why's that then?' Adam asked, putting a handful of dollar bills on the bar.

  'You're staff, mate. Do I have to remind you? Now finish your drink.'

  'Oh yes, I'm the great pretender...' Adam started to sing. He looked at Steve with his lip curled, his nose like the trigger of a pistol drawn back, and he sneered, 'when you've paid me what you owe me, fair and square, then you can be my boss and I'll be your staff. Until then I'm a paying guest. Mate.'

  'You'll be paid, at the end of the month.' Steve Burns looked about him, then moved so that his back would obscure their conversation from Jan. 'Look,' he said in low tones, 'why don't you just fuck right off now, and I'll do what I can to square you up early, as a favour.'

  'I don't like being called staff. I'm having a night off,' Adam replied and then he sauntered down to the beach, lighting another cigarette as he went.

  Burns exchanged looks with Jan. 'Just a misunderstanding,' he said with a brief smile. 'He wants to be paid before everyone else. I told him the way our system worked when he took the job. What can I do?' he asked, and it seemed to Jan that he really was asking him.

  'He's had a lot to drink,' said Jan. 'It's never worth talking to a man in that condition. They don't remember.' Jan was surprised to see that Adam was the kind of man who became nasty when he drank. He could hear Adam repeating, in high-pitched tones, "E's a fucking idiot, he is,' looking at Burns with a hot face, his hands in fists.

  'If I'd known he was a boozer I wouldn't have hired him. Bloody liability.' Burns looked down to the water's edge for a long moment. Jan followed his gaze. He felt Burns look back at the dancers but he himself continued to stare out to sea.

  'Oh, fuck me! No!'

  Jan turned, prepared himself for the worst, expecting to see Annemieke in an embrace with her young dancing companion, but his wife was standing aside. She was swaying at the knees in a semblance of musical appreciation while Adam was dancing cheek to cheek with the American's wife. The young man's hands were falling below her waist as they moved about to 'Careless Whisper' together, his nose in her hair, his body propped by hers. Suddenly his hands were firmly on her arse and his tongue must have been in her ear or licking her neck for she recoiled as if she'd been burnt and let out a little cry of 'No!' Jason was down the beach in seconds and although his punch was badly thrown it was sufficient to knock Adam off his balance.

  Adam was down on his knees in the surf like a man looking for his glasses, saying, 'Calm down, calm down, keep yo
ur hair on,' over and over again as he tried to stand. Jan and Burns ran down to the shore and Jan held Adam while Burns held Jason.

  'Get off of me,' said Jason, shrugging Burns off easily. He turned on him, 'What kind of a place are you running here with your staff molesting your guests?'

  'I asked him to leave.'

  'And he sure listened to you.' Jason stood quivering. Physically maladroit, with the pinched nose and sucked-in cheeks of a scientist or a computer programmer, it was only his thick reddish blond hair and his new clothes that gave Jason the appearance of being a wealthy Wasp. His body went awry when upset; at this moment he looked like a question mark. In those rare old-fashioned moments when a man is supposed to be a man, thought Jan, one has the chance to see his true character, as if by X-ray. It was compelling. He was not alone; looking round he saw that everyone was transfixed.

  Relaxing his jaw muscles with an effort, Jason took his wife by the hand and said to Burns, 'I'll talk to you in the morning. You'd better find us another hotel for tomorrow night.' They moved through the dancers, who were almost immobile. The music continued. At one point Jason turned back, a single fisted arm flailing, like a vestigial reaction; the rest of his body continued along with his wife.

  Looking over to the boy who was putting CDs on the ghetto blaster, Burns saw that he had his eyes closed and was mouthing the words to the song.

  Peculiarly enough, he realized that he was as embarrassed as if it was he who'd thrown the hapless punch and trembled like Shirley Temple in front of the crowd. Try as he might to renounce the American, consoling himself internally with words like prick,' he couldn't seem to shake the sense that they were the same person. One and the same, divided by circumstance, by luck.