The Reef

by Mark Charan Newton

  ‘Yeah,’ Manolin said. Poor Lewys though. The little fellow saw it all.’

  ‘Oh no, is he okay?’ Becq asked. Manolin could see the genuine concern and upset on her face.

  ‘I think so. I think he’s well aware of what’s going on. Kids deal with it differently then us lot do. Almost seems detached, I guess. I don’t know. I was the same when I was younger. I’ll see if I can help him in any way later.’

  ‘Well, where does that leave us?’ Jefry said.

  ‘How d’you mean?’ Manolin said.

  ‘What I mean, Manolin, is what’s our role on the island now? Santiago, what do you think?’

  ‘I think you’ve go a point,’ Santiago said. ‘Forb asked us here. He’s the only one we’ve talked to really. I don’t ever like fraternising with the natives.’

  ‘Speak for yourself. I’ve talked in depth with a lot of the others,’ Manolin said.

  ‘Indeed. Well, anyway, I’ll have a think. We’ve got most of our data anyway.’ Santiago spoke dismissively almost, as if he wanted to get away and this provided a sudden excuse.

  ‘What do you mean “data”?’ Manolin said. ‘We came to investigate the deaths of the ichthyocentaur and stop them. You’ve hardly even noticed them.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. There’s not a lot we can do. Anyway, we came to research the island. Take some samples. We’ve got an ichthyocentaur body on board the ship. We can go back, publish what we’ve got.’

  ‘No, no you can’t.’ Manolin stepped towards Santiago. ‘If you go back without the agents, you can’t publish anything. Their deaths stop you doing that. You can’t even go back to Gio. Whatever happens, they’ll think you killed them.’

  Santiago looked down and up, then placed a hand on his hip. ‘Nonsense. I’ll have a think. We’ll have the old boy’s funeral, and then we can decide. We can stop at a couple of the other islands on the way back and take some notes. This chain extends north-’

  ‘Well fuck you then.’ Manolin pushed past Santiago, walked towards the village. He turned back, shouted, ‘Fuck you, Santiago DeBrelt,’ then marched away.

  Santiago turned to the others. ‘Fucking runt,’ he said, watching Manolin stomp off across the sands. ‘That’s the thanks I get for showing him all he knows. Don’t know what his problem is.’ He sighed. ‘Anyway. We’ll leave in the next couple of days then. We need food and water for the journey. We can get that here.’

  ‘What about Manolin? What about what he said?’ Becq asked.

  ‘What about him?’ Jefry said, with a chuckle. ‘Leave him here.’

  ‘We can’t do that.’ Becq turned to her father, her eyes wide hopeful. ‘Please.’

  ‘I’ll have a word.’ He nodded to Jefry and Yana. They turned and walked, hand in hand, along the beach. He faced his daughter. ‘You really do like him, don’t you?’

  She nodded, rolling her lips inwards. ‘I’ll have a word with him.’ He placed his arm around his daughter and escorted her back to the huddle of villagers.

  As they walked away, they could see Myranda and Lewys, framed by palm trees, sitting next to Forb’s body on the sand. She sat Lewys on her lap and they were both holding Forb’s hand.

  The funeral pyre was lit as the sun became as low and red. The day’s low cloud had cleared to leave a purple sky. Manolin watched as Myranda stepped away from the fire. She was holding a torch whilst staring at the body of Forb in the centre of the pyre. She had been like that for some time, and all the natives had gone back to the village. Behind her was the sea. The wind ruffled her hair, but she was not affected by it. She threw the torch to the base of the fire and stepped back.

  Manolin walked over to her, placed his hand on her arm. She looked at him, her brown skin seeming darker at dusk, and her eyes were wide and full of emotions that he would have once thought were a world away from his.

  ‘Are you okay?’ he said.

  ‘Yes. Thank you. I’ll be okay.’

  They were interrupted by the laughter of the natives, as, back in the village, one of the men was telling a story about Forb. The celebrations were beginning. Manolin still thought it strange that they celebrated lives, rather than mourned deaths, but he had to admit he didn’t feel as glum as he would have thought otherwise.

  ‘We ought to join them,’ she said.

  ‘Are you upset?’

  Myranda frowned, then her face lightened. ‘I’d prepared for this day, but it still hurts . We had been expecting it for years. He never knew when the medicine would wear off. We took each day as if it could be one of our last. I know you can die at any time, but we were more aware of it-the two of us. With that, either we were less attached, or .. I don’t know.’

  Manolin nodded. ‘If I can help in any way-’ ‘You’re kind. I’ll be fine. Just rather lonely, immediately after spending much time with him.’

  ‘Well, if you want to talk about anything, and the same goes for Lewys. If he wants to chat or play or whatever, then I’ll be more than happy.’

  Myranda studied Manolin’s face.

  ‘What?’ Manolin said.

  ‘You and him were similar in some ways.’

  ‘He thought that too.’

  She nodded, her eyes narrowing in what Manolin thought was a pleasant way. ‘He liked you,’ she said. ‘He was a good man. It’s such a loss.’ ‘Don’t think of it in that way. He’s in a better place.’ Manolin frowned, thinking that she said this nonchalantly.

  ‘Myranda, tell me, there doesn’t seem to be any ... religion, here. I’ve seen many places, and, always, there is some kind of belief. In something. In anything.’

  ‘You forget that we descended from those scientists that fled the rebellion all that time ago. No beliefs came with them.’

  ‘So, why do they dance, and entertain at a funeral?’

  ‘Because it feels right. It’s an emotional expression in its own way-perhaps it came from the culture of our ancestors. But why not?’

  ‘Good answer.’ Manolin laughed dryly, then turned to the pyre. He could hear the stories from the village, the sound of the fire burning, and, there as it always was, the sea.

  He and Myranda walked back to the village. Beach fires were lit, and by them, the silhouettes of ichthyocentaurs. It was the first time so many of them had come to the beach for months. He signed greetings to them. His language with them had improved to the level that he could now converse with them.

  He listened to the stories of Forb’s life, watched Lewys show his memories of his father. Manolin felt a lump in his throat as the child walked back to the crowd. For some time he enjoyed the food and the dancing, sharing in the memories of the dead man.

  After an hour, he saw Santiago approaching. Manolin turned to him.

  ‘Good evening, Manolin. Enjoying the festivities?’

  ‘Yes. It’s all quite touching,’ Manolin said.

  ‘Good, good. Look, we’ve all had a chat, and I’ve decided we’ll head back tomorrow.’

  ‘Tomorrow?’ Manolin said. The word had impact with him.

  ‘Yes, tomorrow. We’ll get some meat and fruit, then head off in the morning. There’re more islands to see on the way back. I think we’ve all had enough.’ ‘Enough? What about the ichthyocentaurs? What about Myranda? Her husband’s just died.’ ‘Damn you, man. We’re not to interfere in what goes on in these people’s lives. Their existence goes on. We’ve got a home to go to.’

  ‘You might.’

  Santiago put his arm around Manolin, steered him away from the village to the darkness over the lagoon. ‘You’ve got to let it all go, Manny. She’s pretty, and you’ve struck a good relationship with many of them. But you’re a good scientist. You’re not to get too involved.’

  Manolin was silent, his throat thick with emotion.

  ‘Becq is worried about you. She’s fond of you. She’ll look after you on the way back. And think of the new islands to explore. Then the epic return home. There’s a lot to look forward to. Think of our reputations when we return, eh?�
��

  Manolin sighed, sat on the sand.

  Santiago stood over him, his hands on his hips. ‘I know it’s hard. Believe me, when I was younger I got tangled up with tribal girls. I’ve been there. I’ve done that and-’

  ‘You’ve done everything, haven’t you? You’ve done so much and you want to vomit it all out on the rest of us. Well, I can’t be arsed listening to it. My experience is a little less shallow than your shenanigans, so let’s just leave it. Okay? I’ll pack my stuff and be ready for tomorrow. It’s best we get this all over with quickly.’

  ‘That’s the spirit. Everyone else is packed and ready. We can be off first thing then. We can say our goodbyes and be off.’

  ‘Great.’

  ‘Oh, come on, it’s not that bad. At least you’ve seen a bit of the world.’ ‘Santiago, shut up. I’ll be back to bed later.’ Manolin watched Santiago walk back, then row the raft across the lagoon and to his hut.

  Darkness fell as suddenly as it always did out here. The stars were again numerous. Manolin remembered the first night he looked at them from the island. He felt hollow inside. He had to leave paradise.

  As you glanced along the beach you could see small fires and the main pyre. Jasmine drifted on the gentle breeze, and as the moon became high and bold, you could see the shadows of palm trees on the sand.

  Going home was something he had not thought about. The island had imposed limits on his thoughts-on Arya he didn’t have to think much about Escha. He brought his knees to his chest, stared out to sea. Watched each wave rolling in. The temperature fell. He lay down flat on the sand and rested his chin on his hands, and he looked at the edge of the forest.

  Two figures loitered on the edge. One was definitely a villager, dark, lean, tall. Male. It took him several moments to notice that the second figure was Becq. He looked on, interested. He could see the figures walk by the edge of the forest. The man was telling Becq something. He was a good foot taller, muscular from years of working fishing nets, chopping wood. Wearing only a loin cloth, he was leaning across to Becq to talk to her. Manolin heard her laugh. He thought it strange seeing her with another man. He couldn’t ever recall seeing it back on the mainland. He knew of her overtures towards him-he’d have to have been blind and deaf not to. It did not stop the uneasy feeling, especially when the villager leaned over and tried to kiss her. Manolin couldn’t quite see it properly-the leaves of the trees waving in front of them in the breeze.

  It seemed a little out of character, but then again, she had become more assertive and confident since being here. He looked on as the villager placed a hand on her shoulder, then Becq pulled away. They kissed again.

  Manolin grunted a laugh, shook his head. He pushed himself up off the sand, turned, walked away, not really sure of what he felt any more. He walked to the shore further down and slumped on the sand.

  He wasn’t certain how long he had been there when Myranda approached, walking cat-like across the sand. When she was nearer you could see the moon actually reflecting off of her skin like a cliché.

  ‘Hello,’ she said. She sat next to him on the sand. ‘What’s making you look so sad?’

  ‘Santiago says we have to leave.’ He noticed the moonlit shadows pooling by her collar bone.

  ‘Oh,’ she said. Then, ‘I hoped you would stay longer.’

  ‘So did I.’ He looked at her. Her eyes were bright, round, full of sadness. She placed her hand on his leg, leaned over. ‘I really wanted you all to stay.’ Manolin looked at her hand. ‘There’s nothing I can do. Santiago’s made up his mind.’ She knelt up so that her mouth was within an inch of his ear, and whispered, ‘I want you to have me.’ Manolin shivered. He did not know if it was the wind, the tone of her voice or what she had said. ‘Beg pardon?’ She pushed his knees down and placed one hand under his chin and one on the back of his head. ‘I want you to have me before you go.’ ‘Myranda,’ he said. ‘Your husband has just died! This is ridiculous.’ ‘You are a prude.’ She frowned then kissed him on the top of his cheek.

  Manolin felt the softness of her lips, and her breath along his cheek. She smelled of coconut. He shook himself clear. It seemed ridiculously sudden, and very strange to say the least. ‘Myranda, you don’t understand. I’m a bit shocked that you can act like this tonight.’

  She looked genuinely upset. ‘I... don’t understand. Why are you angry with me?’ Manolin reflected for a moment, aware of the importance of the situation. ‘You actually don’t think anything is wrong, do you?’

  She shrugged. ‘I don’t understand. I’d been saving myself for you.’

  ‘Saving yourself-’ Then, quieter, ‘Saving yourself for me? You were married to Forb, woman.’

  ‘I could’ve been with anyone at any time. That’s the way things are here. I only stay with people I feel a special bond with though, and because I’m not attractive then not many people like me. You do, I can tell this.’

  ‘Myranda, where I come from men would pay a million shillings for a kiss from someone like you.’

  She laughed. ‘I have no idea what a shilling is.’

  ‘It’s a lot of wealth.’

  ‘You’re silly.’

  ‘No, really,’ he said. ‘They would. But, you’re saying that you can sleep with anyone here?’

  ‘Haven’t you noticed?’

  ‘I hadn’t really thought about the people at that level. The ichthyocentaurs, yes, because I studied them.’ He paused, thinking. ‘Guess I never looked at the people that much. You just expect people’s relationships, especially the sexual part, to be normal, whatever that means, wherever you are.’ Then, ‘So, do you not feel any sadness for Forb?,

  ‘Manolin, I know he told you to have me. I know because I asked him to. And he wanted it too. I’m sad, of course I am. But he wanted you to be with me, especially if he went.’

  ‘What? What kind of lives to you all live here? A husband would be willing to permit wife with another man? I couldn’t share. I’m not like that. Where I’m from, a man stays with a woman.’ The irony of his wife’s infidelities didn’t escape him.

  ‘Then don’t share. I wanted it with Forb here. He always said it was like owning a beautiful pond, which is like a lagoon but inland. He said that it would be tranquil, and beautiful, and he could swim in it any day he wanted. Some people, who had a nice pond, would not want anyone else to swim in it, but others would enjoy seeing others swim in it and it would make everyone happy. Manolin, I don’t understand your ways, but I just wanted you to have me.’

  Manolin laughed. ‘Oh, I’d love to, believe me. But tonight?’

  ‘Why not? I think you’re assuming too much about us.’

  ‘Hello? Your husband’s funeral?’

  ‘Life goes on: that’s all we know. Anyway, what night could be better? I want to feel good, especially tonight, and we won’t spend another night together after this. I need you more than I ever could. Tonight,I have never felt sadder and I want comfort from you.’

  Manolin knelt next to her. ‘I can comfort you, but not how you’d wish.’ He couldn’t get his head around her attitudes to sexuality. There was a perverse logic involved, but emotions were spinning around his head.

  She turned to face him. They both stared at one another as if each were a puzzle. He looked down at the island rag that barely covered her. He felt a swelling in his throat. His mouth was dry. He reached for a strand of her hair, which had spiralled down over her breasts. He pushed her hair out of the way and stared at them like an adolescent. He felt very young, and primal.

  ‘I would love to, Myranda. But, tonight of all nights? I’d feel more than guilty. I’m not sure you really follow. If anything was to happen, and I’m certainly not saying it ought to, then I’d want it to be ... well, a little less inconvenient.’

  ‘He wanted it. I want it. I want it so much.’ She began to unbutton his shirt eagerly, as if she was unwrapping a present. It was clumsy yet endearing. His arms fell to his side as she slid his shirt off. They were st
ill kneeling, facing each other. He ran his hands down her arm. They stood up then she pulled his breeches down and his first thought was to looked around, paranoid that someone would watch. His hands twitched as if wanting to stop her, but not totally giving in to temptation.

  He could feel the cool evening air on his loins. ‘Look, let’s step nearer the forest.’

  They walked, hand in hand, Manolin carrying his clothes under his arm, up the shore then she stopped him. She kissed his neck and could feel her breasts, firm and large against his chest. He held his hands out behind her, uncertain, full of hesitation. He spread his fingers out and touched the muscles of her back, pushed her rags down to the ground, feeling every curve, then dabbed her smooth skin with the back of his hand. He grabbed her waist and he felt something deep within his chest as he realised how firm and small it was and he wanted her, there and then, more than anything, but he was thinking, also, that he shouldn’t. He was shaking, stared off into the distance as she kissed his neck.

  He thought of Forb, of his ex-wife, of Becq and of Myranda, who was presently running her tongue along his collar-bone. He could hear the sea, loud and raw, when they fell naked on to the sand and he could feel the strange sensation of the tiny grains as they rolled onto their sides. She ran her hands along his hips then brought his hands on to hers, and his fingers dragged along her legs. She paused, looked at him and kissed him on the lips, then nibbled his bottom one. He noted how white and round her eyes were against her skin. He groaned and smiled, feeling that same stirring in his chest, then he felt her cool hand on his groin.

  She pushed him so that he was lying flat and, as he closed his eyes, she began to play with his cock like he hoped she might. Her hand was cool, and she kissed down his stomach until she placed his cock in her mouth, began to suck gently.

  He stared up at the night sky, worried. She kept playing but he was not becoming turned on. He was conscious of this as the seconds passed. The more he thought about it the less he felt aroused. When she drew back he could feel the wind chilling her saliva on his flaccid pems.

  He sat up, saw that she was staring at him. She became suddenly distant, as if he were a stranger. She let go, but he brought her closer.