Stranded

by Sarah Goodwin

  ‘That’s an understatement, don’t you think? The rabbits have been at everything – what isn’t choked by the weeds. We’ll be lucky to get a third of what we could have grown. It’s disgraceful.’

  ‘I know … It’s a let-down. I was looking forward to a bit of a feast at the end of the growing season,’ I said, trying to keep things light. ‘Still, not much we can do now.’

  Maxine sniffed and turned her back on me to check on her pots. ‘Then you should have worked harder on it, shouldn’t you?’

  I was taken aback. ‘Well, I did my best. I was on my own after all – Gill was meant to be working on the allotment. That was her job.’

  Maxine rounded on me. ‘But you took responsibility for it when she hurt her back. You can’t just say it’s not your problem when we were relying on you.’

  I stood there a moment and just blinked. While Maxine hadn’t been friendly to me for a while, she had at least been coolly polite. She hadn’t directed her annoyance at me before, only at Zoe.

  ‘I was working in the garden – I didn’t “take responsibility” for it. I was just doing what I could. I never said that I would take it on all by myself – no one ever bothered to help with it.’

  ‘Did you think to ask?’ Maxine demanded, face no longer flushed with steam, but with anger. ‘You can’t just go off doing your own thing all the time – we’re a community. We have a responsibility to each other.’

  ‘Where is this coming from?’ I said, astounded. ‘You’ve had months to talk about this, why are you getting at me now when there’s nothing to be done on the allotment?’

  ‘Because it doesn’t make any difference! You never listen, you just argue and complain about everything, to anyone who will listen. You’re old enough to know better.’

  I was shaking, completely blindsided. How could I be ‘complaining to everyone who would listen’ when I hardly spoke to anyone and was out of camp most of the time? I wasn’t bitching and backbiting like Gill and the others were behind my back. Maybe I’d got into arguments, but always for good reason. Or so I thought. I’d avoided as many as I could by keeping to myself and not dragging up the food theft incidents.

  Looking her in the eye, I suddenly realised what was going on. Really, it should have occurred to me sooner. Maxine had been taking her misery out on Zoe, but Zoe was standing up for herself now. She’d proven that with what she’d said by the kiln. Besides which, Zoe was with Shaun and he was friends with Andrew and Duncan. Maybe something had been said, or maybe Maxine had realised it on her own. Either way, Zoe was protected. I was not.

  Words choked me. I had so much I wanted to say in my own defence, but Maxine was just glaring at me, her eyes flat and full of anger. My skin turned hot and cold with shame and fury at the unfairness of it all.

  ‘Maxine … I—’

  ‘Will you just go away!’ Maxine shouted.

  I took a step backwards, shocked by this sudden outburst. It was then I noticed that she was crying. I was still standing there speechless when Gill came running over and put her arms around Maxine, bad back momentarily forgotten. In the distance I saw Duncan, Andrew and the others in the shadow of the pines, axes leaning against the tree trunks.

  ‘What is it, what’s going on, eh?’ Gill asked softly, rubbing Maxine’s back.

  Maxine choked on a sob, clinging to her, suddenly looking so old and hopeless that I felt myself tearing up as well. She reminded me so much of Mum, I wondered if this is what she’d looked like every time I’d made excuses not to come home.

  ‘I want to go home. I … miss … my …’ she sobbed into Gill’s shoulder and Gill glared at me.

  ‘Maybe you ought to give her some space,’ she said sharply.

  I swallowed, something in my chest hitching. I didn’t want to leave, I wanted to stay and talk to Maxine, try to fix things and make it all right. But there was a sort of line between us, with her and Gill on one side, me on the other. I couldn’t cross it.

  Gill led Maxine away, shushing the whole while. I was left by the fire, alone. I felt eyes on me and knew that the others were still watching from the treeline. Glancing up I saw Zoe hurrying after Gill and Maxine. Maybe they’d make up after all.

  I did the only thing I could think of: picked up my foraging bag and left the camp. As much as I hated to admit it, Gill was right, I had to give Maxine some space.

  Picking my way north, up the steep hills and gullies, I stopped only to squeeze clutches of sea buckthorn berries into one of the empty plastic bottles in my gathering bag. A peace offering. It was how I’d always made things right with Mum. A cup of tea, asking about her book, little gestures to bridge the gap. Perhaps I could convince Maxine I wasn’t her enemy. I didn’t want her to pick on Zoe, but if it was a choice between being stuck between them and being completely ostracised, I would choose the former.

  Being outside and busy had always been able to lift my spirits, but I found I was struggling. Maxine’s words had hit me hard. She held me responsible for the failure of our allotment, blamed me for neglecting it. The unfairness of that, the hurt of it, followed me through the trees. It was there, waiting for me whenever my mind wandered from the task at hand. The worst part was that the further I went, the longer I thought, I started to agree with her. The allotment might not have been my job, but I had been working on it. I should have worked harder. If I’d left off foraging for a while, yes, we would have gone without, but we’d also have a better harvest now. I could have done more, I knew that. I should have done more.

  Still, a tiny part of me railed against the unfairness. Obviously Maxine was stressed and missing her family, her husband and daughters. That was the real reason behind her outburst. She needed to get that stress out and had chosen me as a target. That didn’t make it hurt less. Was there anything I could have done differently? Even as I thought it I knew that bringing in less forage at the time wouldn’t have gone down well. I had been forced into working on the cabin, bringing in daily food and cooking it too – but that hadn’t been enough. I knew that if I’d raised the idea of the work party shifting to the allotment, I would have been shouted down. If I had tried to pass the duty of foraging on or cut back on it, I would have been accused of shirking, of depriving them. But hindsight could be capricious. In a few months’ time would anyone remember the food I’d provided, or would they instead lament the food they could be eating, had the allotment flourished?

  Alternating between guilt and anger, I reached the crest of the hills and looked down on the meadow below. The grasses were long and green, sizzling with insects. Birds flew low over the waving tide of green, snatching up flies. In the distance the cabin of our two camera techs was almost hidden in the newly lush undergrowth, the door slightly ajar to let in the warm breeze.

  I sat down on the hard earth and raised my face to the sun. This was what I was here for: freedom, and space to heal. I didn’t want to be angry all the time, trying to force people to listen to me, to value my input. The lonely life had driven me out here to find some kind of respite from it. But so far, most of my moments of peace had come away from camp – away from the others. I’d had some good moments with Zoe, with Maxine, but … things were getting tougher. If today was any indication those relationships were fragile at best, transactional at worst. It was clear from the way things were getting with Duncan and Andrew’s clique that we were all only as good as our contributions. And my contribution wasn’t exactly feeling valuable at that moment.

  I took a deep breath, then wrinkled my nose. There was something fetid on the sharp sea-salt-and-pine air. Rot. Rotting meat. I sniffed again, but the air was clean once more. The wind must have changed direction, most likely. I thought of Frank and his abandoned fishing gear. Hopefully he’d get back out there soon, replace the forbidden mussels with mackerel. Though so far in our time on the island he’d caught barely any fish. All of them tiny. Either he was slacking off or there were no fish around to catch. I could imagine all the boats out there scooping them u
p in big nets. Not much left for us, with our single rod and lazy fisherman.

  I’d wandered far and darkness was starting to gather under the trees. Still, I didn’t want to go back to camp. I thought of my flat with a longing I’d never felt for it before. To have somewhere that was mine, where I could shut the door and shut out the world at the same time, that was a luxury I missed more than coffee and butter put together.

  I made my way back and found everyone else already gathered around the outdoor fire. The flames were high, more logs than usual spitting and sparking over the glowing embers. It looked more like a celebration bonfire than a campfire pit, but no one looked in the mood for celebrations.

  Maxine was sitting between Zoe and Gill, a hankie screwed up in her hand. As I sat down I tried to catch her eye, but she was looking at the base of the fire, where the embers winked out their last light.

  ‘Maddy, we’ve been having a chat,’ Shaun said, after glancing at Duncan. ‘Just, you know … about what happened today?’

  ‘Right,’ I said. ‘Look, I … I was thinking about it and, maybe I just needed some time to see how it must have looked – to you, Maxine. And I wanted to apologise for not being clear about the allotment thing. Obviously there was a lot of room for misunderstanding and I should have asked for help with it before, if I wasn’t, you know, going to be spending all my time on it. So, I’m sorry and, I hope that going forward we can all try and make the best out of the plants we have yet to harvest, like the late crops and the squashes.’

  Frank coughed in the ensuing silence. Shaun exchanged another, pleading look with Duncan, then Andrew. Zoe swallowed and took Shaun’s hand, squeezing it.

  ‘The thing is,’ Zoe said, ‘we get you’re sorry about it and, that’s fine – thank you for saying so. But … we’ve been talking about basically everything that’s gone down since we got here and we think that it might be best if, for the rest of the experiment … if you maybe moved out of the camp.’

  I blinked, unable to process this, coming from her of all people. ‘What?’

  ‘Just for the community,’ Zoe said quickly. ‘The whole point of being here is to pretend like this is the last of everything, you know? We’re meant to be a community, working together and … it feels like you’d be happier doing more your own thing, not collab­orating.’

  ‘We think it’ll cut down on the arguments,’ Andrew put in. ‘You know, if you don’t agree with ninety per cent of what this community is doing, maybe you shouldn’t be in it.’

  I looked from one person to the next, at the faces around the fire. Maxine and Zoe wouldn’t meet my eye. Clearly this was the price of their truce. Gill was looking at Duncan expectantly and Frank looked like he was asleep under his broad-brimmed fishing hat. I couldn’t think of a thing to say. Being confronted like this had utterly thrown me. I’d been expecting an argument, recriminations, but I’d thought an apology might smooth things over. It was just one silly argument. Finally, I opened my mouth.

  ‘Are you … serious?’ I asked. ‘Over one misunderstanding … you’re just … throwing me out? Where am I meant to go?’

  ‘We thought the fishing hut would be most logical,’ Andrew said.

  ‘There’s a latrine down there and it’s pretty solid so … you should be all right,’ Shaun said. ‘And we’d obviously let you take your stuff.’

  ‘Let me!’ I exploded, the unreality of it all boiling away to leave only pure fury behind. ‘Well, that’s awfully big of you, Shaun. Thank you so much for letting me take my stuff.’

  ‘This is what we’re talking about,’ Maxine said, making me flush hot and cold with humiliation. ‘I don’t want to deal with this kind of thing for the next four months. It’s ruining this experience – for everyone.’

  ‘And you constantly getting at Zoe was what, community-mindedness?’ I said, instantly regretting my words when Maxine folded her arms and glared at me.

  ‘We already voted,’ Duncan said, speaking for the first time since I’d sat down. ‘It was unanimous.’

  I glanced at Zoe, but she was looking anywhere but at me. All the fight in me died. Even she’d gone against me on this, after everything Maxine had said and done. All right, if I wanted to stay they couldn’t force me out. The hut had no real door so it wasn’t like they could lock it in my face. But … how could I stay when every single one of them wanted me gone? Coming back into camp that evening had been hard enough just knowing that Maxine was angry with me. How could I come back to that day after day, knowing it was all of them?

  Andrew correctly took my silence as assent. ‘You can go pack up your stuff – we found most of it and put it on your bed.’

  ‘But … it’s night?’ Zoe said quietly. ‘Couldn’t we wait until morning?’

  That tiny sliver of concern did what their anger and betrayal had not. Tears sprang to my eyes.

  ‘I’ll go tonight,’ I said, not recognising my own voice. ‘I’ll get my stuff.’

  I took two steps, then faltered and turned around. ‘Maxine, I brought back buckthorn juice for you. It’s in that bag.’

  No one said anything as I went to the hut.

  Andrew was right, it looked like all my belongings, even my tools from the storage lean-to, had been heaped on my bed. I started packing it in a jumble. I just wanted to get away.

  It was only as I was stuffing my few toiletries into my coat pockets, that I realised I hadn’t seen my books. I’d brought three with me; foraging guide, plant-based medicine and The Physician, a seven-hundred-page historical novel so dense it had lasted me two months. I went to the little almost-shelf where the rest of the camp’s battered paperbacks were, usually. It was empty.

  I headed outside and found Andrew waiting by the door.

  ‘All done?’

  ‘No, actually – I can’t find my books?’

  ‘Oh … well, we can drop those down to you if we find them.’

  From his tone it was clear he would be doing no such thing. With all the other books suddenly gone it was fairly obvious mine had been hidden.

  ‘I can’t leave until I have them,’ I said.

  ‘What’s the problem?’ Duncan asked, appearing at Andrew’s side.

  ‘She wants her books,’ Andrew replied, making it sound like I was a five-year-old demanding my special blankie.

  ‘If you’ve lost them, they’ll probably turn up. Though they really are a community resource, so …’

  I fought the urge to slap him. ‘They’re mine. I brought them here as part of my allowance of supplies. Also, have you split my rations up from everyone else’s so I can take them with me?’

  More shuffling and glances between the two of them. ‘Again, that’s food for the community, for people working on the cabin and the—’

  ‘Fuck. The fucking. Cabin,’ I said, clearly and loudly. ‘You haven’t done any work on it for weeks and you’re still eating with the rest of us. I foraged that food, I found a cache, I was the only person working on the sodding allotment – I’m taking my share. And if you even think of stopping me –’ I tapped the black plastic shell of the camera I’d been wearing so long that I’d ceased to notice it ‘– you’re going to be on national TV, stealing a woman’s food.’

  I couldn’t see Duncan that well; he was backlit by the raging fire. Only his eyes caught the light, gleaming like broken glass. For the second time I thought he might hit me, camera or no camera. Thankfully, my threat seemed to work.

  ‘Get her some fucking rations,’ Duncan muttered to Andrew. ‘Just get this bitch out of here.’ Duncan poked me, hard, in the chest. ‘Don’t even think of coming back for more. We don’t give handouts to lazy cunts.’

  ‘Better tell Gill then,’ I said, thankful he couldn’t see the trembling of my hands in the dark.

  I turned and went to the food store, waiting for Andrew to get the keys. Inside I was pure adrenalin, fear and fury sloshing around like oil and water. I felt sick. I wanted to hit something, to cry, to dig my nails into my own skin. I wa
nted to be anywhere else than on Buidseach Isle. I wanted my mum.

  Andrew came in, unlocked the box and waved my hands away when I reached for it. He took out bags and boxes and jars, creating a small pile on the ground. In the dark I couldn’t see any of the labels. I doubted he could either. Andrew snapped the lid of the box shut, letting me know he was done. There was very little in my pile, but I took it anyway.

  ‘My books?’ I said.

  Andrew didn’t say anything, just shoved the box aside and pulled my books from underneath, practically throwing them at my chest. I grabbed them and scooped the food into my arms as well, dumping the lot into my holdall.

  I left the hut and walked past the fire. With my anger burning a hole in my gut I reached the edge of the clearing and turned on my heel.

  ‘Maybe now Duncan and Andrew can share their secret feasts with all of you, not just Gill and Shaun!’ I called. It was petty and stupid, but I couldn’t leave without outing them to the others. I couldn’t walk away while they pretended to have the high ground. I would rather be angry than feel the gaping hole of despair in my chest.

  No one said anything as I went. Even Zoe let me go without a word.

  Chapter 15

  ‘How do you think you’ll get on with the other islanders?’ Sasha had asked. ‘We’ve chosen from quite a broad pool of people; lots of different personalities and backgrounds. How do you see yourself fitting in?’

  ‘I fit in very easily, it’s one of the things I got used to when I started temping,’ I’d said, relieved that for once I didn’t have to lie. I did work hard at fitting in when I started somewhere new. I didn’t enjoy it, constantly felt awkward and exposed, but I could do it just the same. It was just a case of dressing like everyone else, listening to them, mirroring their rivalries and concerns. Whether I could keep it up for a year was another question entirely.

  ‘You must meet lots of new people all the time then. Any kind of personality that you don’t mesh well with?’ Sasha asked. ‘People that just set your teeth on edge?’