This Way to Paradise

by Cathy Hopkins

  ‘Asleep?’ For a moment there was an ominous silence. ‘Is she drunk, India Jane?’

  I so didn’t want to be a snitch, but I couldn’t think of how else we’d get home. It was one o’clock in the morning. I was pretty sure that, despite her promise to me, Kate hadn’t phoned her mother and I knew that Aunt Sarah would be worried. Both Kate and Tom were well out of it and I knew that no way was he or Robin going to be able to drive us back, especially on roads where there wasn’t much lighting. I had no choice but to call Aunt Sarah.

  ‘She’s . . . I think she’s just tired.’

  ‘Keep your phone switched on and I’ll be there as soon as I can.’

  ‘OK. Thanks. I will.’

  I made my way back to the fire and sat down to wait. Over by the bar, I could see Robin with his arm around Andrea. They soon started snogging. At least he wasn’t forcing her, I thought as I glanced away. I felt angry with him. And myself. It was all so stupid and I desperately wanted to get back up to the centre, get under my duvet and forget about the day. Kate was still snoring away at my side, but I was wide awake as I ran through the events of the last few hours in my head for the hundredth time. I’d sobered up fast when Robin had turned into Groper Boy. And I would have been OK if Joe Donahue hadn’t come along and tried to do his knight-in-shining armour routine. OK, I was struggling, but I had just been about to try a technique that always worked on Lewis when he had me pinned down during play wrestling fights when we were younger. A swift knee in the groin. It worked every time. However, just as I applied said knee, Robin was suddenly hauled off me and I saw Joe standing there, hands on hips, like a superhero. Ironically, I recalled, he was still wearing his Superman T-shirt. ‘Everything all right, India?’

  I blustered that I was fine, rolled over and got up swiftly. Robin also got up, holding his crotch. He hobbled off, muttering something about me being stupid and immature. ‘You OK?’ Joe asked.

  ‘Fine,’ I said again. I felt irritated that he’d caught me being mauled by someone like Robin and so hoped that he hadn’t thought that I was in any way complicit.‘He’s not my boyfriend or anything.’

  ‘I gathered that,’ said Joe. ‘In fact I thought you were in trouble.’

  ‘I can handle myself.’

  ‘Yeah? Didn’t look like it,’ said Joe. ‘I’d stay away from those guys if I were you. They’re just out to party.’

  Before I could stop myself, I blurted. ‘Like you care who I hang out with or what I do. And what are you doing down here? Scoring drugs? From what I’ve heard you like to party yourself.’

  Joe looked taken aback at my outburst but he chose to ignore it. ‘Look. Why not come over closer to the light area where there are more people. It’s dark here.’

  ‘I can look after myself,’ I muttered.

  ‘I’m sure you can, but . . .’

  ‘I don’t need you looking out for me. I’ve got three brothers – I don’t need another one.’ For a moment, at the thought of my brothers, who couldn’t even be bothered to send me an e-mail, I felt overwhelmingly alone and that I might cry. I bit my lip instead and pushed the feeling away.

  ‘Whatever,’ said Joe. ‘Just . . . there are some chancers at these kind of things sometimes. Guys on the look out for . . .’ He hesitated for a moment as though searching for words.

  ‘For kids like me? Is that what you were going to say? Go on. Say it. I know you’re thinking it. About how pathetic I am. I know that you think I’m a total idiot.’

  ‘I don’t actually. I . . . No. I . . . Look, I’m heading back up to the centre. You want a ride?’

  I shook my head. ‘We have a ride and I have to find Kate. I wouldn’t leave without her.’

  ‘Kate can look after herself,’ said Joe.

  ‘Maybe but I wouldn’t leave her,’ I said and I knew that I’d said it in a very clipped way as if I was blaming him for something.

  Joe looked at me kindly, which made me feel like crying again. ‘Good for you, India Jane,’ he said. ‘It’s good to look out for each other.’

  I pushed past him and walked towards the fire and it was there that I saw Kate and Tom lying on their backs, snoring away, oblivious to the world. She clearly hadn’t come looking for me, I thought. I saw Joe check that I was with her then walk off towards the car park.

  We should have gone with him, I thought, checking my watch and seeing with horror that it was one in the morning. That’s when I called Aunt Sarah. She arrived about twenty-five minutes later and I felt so relieved to see her, even though she was livid. She gave Tom off a real telling-off; then between us, we helped Kate to the car. Kate didn’t seemed phased at all. She was well out of her head.

  ‘Mommie dearest,’ she slurred. ‘Arr. Come to the party. Hurray. Nice to have Mommie dearest here.’

  This was a sentiment clearly not shared with Mommie dearest who packed us into the car like naughty five-year-olds and drove us back up the lanes in silence, and I wondered if she was still thinking that Tom Stourton was such a good influence.

  Chapter 11

  Grounded

  I woke at nine-thirty with a cracking headache. It felt as if someone was probing the inside of my brain with ice cold fingers. Horrible. I found a couple of aspirin in Kate’s toilet bag and went up to the dining area to get some coffee. I hoped that I might escape Aunt Sarah, but no such luck. She’d been up for hours and was feeling more vocal than last night.

  ‘I would have thought you’d have had more sense!’ she started when I sat down at her table with my cup of coffee.

  She hadn’t cooled off over night. Not one bit. She was still mad with me. Still mad with us. Kate was sleeping it off, oblivious to all of it – to what had happened at the party with Robin and to how we got back to the centre.

  So I got the full force of the wrath of Aunt Sarah. Sounds like a movie title, I thought as she blasted away at me. The Wrath of Aunt Sarah – a movie coming your way soon.

  She had a list of things to be furious about.

  Furious because we were late and had missed supper with her.

  Furious because Kate had turned her mobile off.

  Furious because neither of us had called.

  Furious because ‘anything could have happened to us’. (And almost did, I thought.)

  But most furious because Kate was falling-over drunk and stank of cigarettes. She was so drunk that she’d even offered her mother one before she passed out. I’d never seen Aunt Sarah that mad. It was scary.

  And the thing was, I kind of understood. She didn’t know where we were. Of course she’d been worried.

  ‘I’m sorry, Aunt Sarah,’ I said and I meant it. I felt bad. Bad for her. Bad for Kate. And bad for me.

  ‘I should think that you are, but it’s a bit late for apologies, isn’t it? What if something had happened to you? Your mother would have killed me. You’re in my care while you’re here or have you forgotten? I spoke to Fleur and your dad first thing and they’ll be calling later. Needless to say, neither of them were very happy to hear about your behaviour and the fact that you’d been drinking too. Don’t think you can act the innocent party.’

  ‘That is so unfair,’ I blurted. ‘Why did you have to tell them? For one thing, I didn’t even do anything and, for another, I didn’t ask to be sent here.’

  Aunt Sarah gave me a cool glare and then, suddenly, she looked like a balloon that had been deflated. All the fury went out of her to be replaced with a look of utter weariness.

  ‘You’re grounded for the next few days,’ she said. ‘Both of you. I’m not having either of you going off on your own until you learn to be responsible. You can stay here. At the centre where I can keep an eye on you.’

  After the lecture, I grabbed some fruit and escaped up to the cyber office to check my e-mails. There was already one from Mum.

  India Jane (not even a dear India Jane, I noted.)

  Sarah let us know about last night. What were you thinking of?

  Just remember that you’re
a guest there and . . .

  Blah blah blah, like you even care. You’re more bothered that Aunt Sarah was upset than by what happened to me, I thought as I scanned the rest of the message to see if Dad had written anything. He hadn’t. Hasn’t even got time to be mad with me, I thought as I pressed delete.

  There were two messages from Erin. Just nice, normal mad stuff about spotting Scott Malone outside the chippie on her way home from her supermarket job and there being nothing on telly. (I missed her so much.)

  None from the rest of my family. Not even a health warning from Dylan about the dangers of binge drinking.

  More and more people were emerging from their bungalows and the centre was starting to buzz with the energy of a new day. As I came down the steps away from reception, I didn’t feel like engaging with anyone after my grand telling-off from Aunt Sarah. Not Kate. And especially not Joe. Too late! I rounded a corner and walked smack into him.

  ‘You made it back I see,’ he said.

  ‘Yeah. So? Why wouldn’t I?’ I said, then cursed myself when he looked taken aback by my tone.

  ‘Yes. Why wouldn’t you? No. I mean . . . I know, just . . . oh never mind,’ he blustered.

  Say something funny, said a voice in my head. Say something funny. What came out was: ‘Yes and I’ve just had breakfast. Surprisingly I can feed myself too.’

  Nooooooooooooooo. Idiot, said the voice in my head. Now, zip it, India. Be quiet. Shut up. Shut up. Oh God, I thought, seeing a wall go up in Joe’s eyes. He thinks I am a stroppy cow. He’s right. I am. But I’m so not. Not really. No. The real me is still in here somewhere, I wanted to say. You’d like her. She’s nice. But, of course, nothing came out.

  The conversation had gone all wrong. I had no idea why I was so hostile to him, especially when he had only tried to help last night and he wasn’t the one who had tried to maul me. I must be nicer, I thought, and tried to think of something friendly to say.

  ‘Er . . . I noticed you had a Superman T-shirt on yesterday,’ I started.

  He nodded.

  ‘Isn’t he the one who wears his underpants over his trousers? Maybe you should do that. You know, complete the look.’

  Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo. What in God’s name made me say that? I thought as the words came out of my mouth.

  Joe burst out laughing and shook his head.‘Yeah. Yeah, he is. I’ll keep that in mind next time I wear that T-shirt. I’ll wear my boxers on the outside just for you. I’ll see if it helps me get lucky.’ And he went off towards the dining area chuckling to himself.

  ‘Arghhhhh,’ I muttered, and kicked the wall of the reception bungalow just as Anisha was going up the steps.

  She glanced after Joe. ‘Boy trouble?’ she asked.

  ‘No. No. Why would it be?’

  She held her hands up.‘Woah. Just asking. I thought I saw you chatting to Joe. Forget I asked.’

  ‘No. I wasn’t . . . At least, I was. Chatting. He’s . . . I don’t even know him, at least, I do, but not really.’

  Anisha laughed. ‘You sound confused,’ she said.

  ‘I am. I . . . Oh, I don’t know. I always seem to say or do the wrong thing when he’s around. And . . . I just don’t get him.’

  Anisha looked thoughtful and nodded. ‘Yeah. I guess he is a bit of a mystery. Me and my mate Rosie were talking about him last night. Neither of us can work him out either.’

  ‘He seems to like being on his own.’

  ‘Yeah,’ she said, smiling. ‘Cute though, hey?’

  I nodded and Anisha went up to take her place behind reception. I felt bad. Whoever Joe was, mystery man or superhero, I’d been rude to him and then said something stupid. Again. When I wasn’t acting like the village idiot in front of him, I was acting the strop queen. Suddenly I desperately wanted to get away on my own. Clear my head of the whirlpool of thoughts spinning around.

  ‘Where’s quiet near here?’ I asked Anisha.

  ‘Like no people quiet?’

  I nodded.

  Anisha thought for a moment. ‘At this time of day, the beach at the bottom of the slope down through the trees on the left. Totally private. Lovely. I always take off down there when I want space. It’s quiet in the morning, then it fills up early afternoon.’

  Perfect – and Aunt Sarah can’t object because the beach is still part of the complex, I thought. I thanked Anisha and set off in the direction she’d pointed in.

  I passed through the bungalow area where already some of the morning classes had started. Not for me, I thought, watching a bunch of middle-aged ladies swaying to some sort of weird pipe music. I left the accommodation area, headed down the slope, across a meadow then over towards the sea. The ground felt baked dry as I made my way down the path, through the welcome shade of an area with pine trees and then out on to the beach. Anisha was right: it was a lovely sheltered cove and was empty. With a sigh of relief, I walked about halfway down, then plonked myself on to the sand and stared out at the waves.

  It was only eleven, but it was hot hot hot and airless, and I cursed the fact that I hadn’t thought to bring a magazine or book down with me. Or suntan lotion. Mum would go mad if she knew I was sitting here without my factor twenty.

  Two weeks down, two more to go, I thought, watching the waves lap up and make lace patterns as they broke on to the shore. And how different everywhere looks to last night. Everywhere was bleached bright with the sun this morning, all shadows blasted away. It felt safe. Last night on the beach had felt dark and dangerous.

  I reached into my bag for my mobile. Even though it cost a fortune to call Erin, I didn’t care – I needed to hear her voice. I was about to try her number, but then I remembered that Greece is two hours ahead. It would only be nine in Ireland. She would kill me if I woke her up on her day off – and I had enough people mad at me for the time being.

  Now what? I asked myself. What am I going to do? I felt restless and out of sorts. In front was the ocean. To my left and right, the beach, behind me, trees. Where do I fit? Not up at the centre with the swaying loonies, nor with the crowd who were down on the beach last night. I am the odd girl out. I don’t belong with Kate and the boys. I’m not a party girl like her or them. I was kidding myself. Trying to talk myself into being someone I’m not. All the time, I was out of place. I felt fake. But I don’t fit up at Cloud Nine either. No way. All of the guests were there voluntarily. They’d paid to come. Not forced to, like me, because I was in the way of my parents’ plans. When I thought of Mum and Dad and Dylan and Lewis, tears came to my eyes. I felt such an ache deep inside – the most homesick I had felt since I had arrived. Even though the Notting Hill house was the beginning of a new chapter, I couldn’t wait to get back there and start it. All I want is a home, I thought. A place where I belong, with a mum and dad who are interested in what I’m up to and what I’m thinking about. I want a family who cares. A bunch of mates I really get on with. I want a room of my own. Somewhere I can be myself and be happy.

  As the sun rose in the sky, the temperature became more and more furnace-like, so that even the sand grew hot to touch. It was so hot that you could see the heat shimmering in the air. I still felt restless, and there was only so long that I could stare at the sea and think deep thoughts about my place in the universe. I have to go back up to the centre, I thought. Get my baseball cap, my sun lotion and something to do.

  As I walked back over the beach, I noticed that a group of people from the centre had come down and were sitting by the path in a clearing in the shade of the trees. There were about twelve of them, all dressed in white, seated in a semicircle around a slim Indian man, whom I vaguely recognised from posters that I’d seen around the centre. He looked about forty and was sitting cross-legged in front of them. I had no choice but to walk by and was trying to do so without disturbing them when he saw me creeping past and gave me a huge beam.

  ‘Ah, a latecomer! Come, sit. Be comfortable,’ he said.

  He was smiling at me with such warmth that I fe
lt it would be rude not to accept his invitation. I tiptoed over to the side of the group and sat down. Liam, the boy who had been friendly to me on the first day, was next to me and nodded.

  Someone had lit a sandalwood joss stick which wafted across the area. The scent reminded me of home and Mum’s experiments with her oils, and it felt pleasant to be in the shade of the trees after the heat of the sun. I wasn’t really in a hurry to go back up to the bungalow and Kate. She was bound to be in a strop when she heard that we were grounded. I didn’t want to do any of the other classes so I began to listen to the man.

  ‘The problem isn’t the bomb,’ he said. ‘The problem is the minds that created the bomb. Wars will never be stopped by more wars. Peace will only come about when the minds of men are at peace. If a mind is at peace then what need is there to create destruction or bombs? For example, take a knife. It is a tool which you can use to cut an apple or to stab a man. It is the intention of the user of the tool that determines if something is destructive or not, not the thing itself. So what mankind needs is peace of mind. What we all need is peace of mind.’

  Yeah, that’s true, I guess, I thought, looking around at the group. They were a mixed bunch in race and age. Some, like Liam, looked not much older than me, others were in their twenties or thirties, and others looked like they were well into their sixties if not older. They all had one thing in common though. As they sat listening, they appeared so still, many with smiles of contentment on their faces as they gazed at the speaker in front of them. I turned my attention back to him. He spoke with a slight Indian accent and his voice was soft and low, easy to listen to. But there was something else about him. He glowed as if he’d been polished inside and out, as if he’d been on the best detox diet ever invented. He radiated good health and wellbeing. At first I’d put him at about forty, but his smooth face was ageless and unlined and, like his followers, he gave out an aura of tranquillity.

  ‘The peace you seek is within you,’ he continued, ‘each and everyone of you. You will never find it outside in the material things that claim to give you happiness. Nor is your true home on the planet, although we fool ourselves that we belong in a place or a country. No. Tell me, my friends, have any of you ever felt that you don’t fit in this world? You don’t belong?’