'Sal!' I said, probably overdoing the outrage. 'Of course not!'

'Well, it's hard to tell with you… Anyway, following the talk with Etienne, I've had a slight change of plan. I've decided to be a bit blunter with the camp than I'd originally planned to be… Desperate times and desperate measures, or something like it…'

She hesitated. 'Funerals have a way of drawing people together, don't you think, Richard?'

'They can,' I said doubtfully.

'They can, yes… So the point is, don't lose any sleep over not passing on the message.'

I nodded. 'I won't.'

'Good. I'll see you tomorrow then.'

'Sure. Tomorrow.'

Moshe was the last to bed, so he blew out the last candle. The John-Boy game, obviously, was out of the question, but it crossed my mind to try it. I was interested to know what would happen. Probably we'd have laboured through it, only calling out the names of our friends until some poor sap was stuck and had to pass it over to the Bugs side. Probably via the Yugo girls, I imagined, or maybe Sal.

I moved on to thinking about Francoise, a train of thought that, once started, could occupy me almost indefinitely. Indefinitely turned out to be at least an hour. That was how long I'd been lying awake before I realized that everyone else in the longhouse was lying awake too. It was a revelation I found annoying. As there was no light in the longhouse for one's eyes to become accustomed to, normally one felt snugly cocooned by the insulating wall of blackness. Paradoxically, it was the snores and sounds of others sleeping that reinforced this cocoon, the sleepers distanced by their unconsciousness.

Once alerted by the lack of heavy breathing, the cocoon illusion was ruined. Ruined, and worst of all, replaced by a nagging puzzle. I was awake because I had Francoise to mull over, but why was everyone else awake? It took me another half-hour to deduce that it had to be because they were fretting about Sten's funeral.

Five minutes later, the puzzle solved, I fell fast asleep.

Ashes to Dust

Despite the stench of rotten Sten (a sudden hot blast erupted when his feet slipped out of his sleeping-bag) the funeral had some dignity. We all circled the grave that Jean had dug the day before, close enough to the waterfall to make a pleasant spot, far enough to stop our drinking water from being spoiled. Then Sal said a few words, talking of Sten's unfailing commitment to the camp and the extent to which we'd all miss him. Unhygienix, as head cook, said a few more. He talked about how Sten always caught big fish, which weren't necessarily tastier than the smaller ones from the lagoon, but went further in terms of keeping people's stomachs full. He also pointed out that although Sten hadn't played the most active social role in the camp, he was always ready to join in if a Sunday football game was organized and had never been known to foul. This last point drew a couple of murmurs of agreement from the crowd.

No one was visibly upset until we started filling in the grave. Then several of the girls started crying. Ella particularly – like all the cooks, she'd had more contact with him than the rest of us. Anyway, I could understand the tears because there was something poignant about watching the sleeping-bag shroud become slowly covered in earth. It brought home how absolute Sten's absence from the world had become.

Finally, Bugs planted a wooden headstone. To his credit, he'd made a real effort with the carving, putting little flourishes around Sten's name. If I had to niggle, I'd mention that the headstone was missing Sten's second name and date of birth. The trouble was, Christo wasn't able to answer questions about Sten and Karl wasn't willing, so there was nothing that anyone could do about it. But perhaps it was more appropriate that way. Second names felt connected to the World, maybe because they were a link to family and home, so they were never used or asked. It's a funny thought that if today – for some inexplicable reason—I wanted to track down any of the people I once knew on the beach, I'd have no better clue to work from than a nationality and a fading memory of their faces.

Throughout the proceedings, I was wondering at which point Sal would address us about the tensions in the camp. I'd assumed it would be when she spoke over the graveside, and I think she'd assumed the same thing, but the smell had probably changed her mind. It was distracting. Although we'd all listened attentively to her and Unhygienix, I think there was a quiet sense of relief when the earth sealed the head-hole of Sten's sleeping-bag.

Sal eventually made her move when we thought it was over. Jed turned to head off back to camp—he was in a hurry because he didn't want to leave Christo unattended for too long—but Sal stopped him.

'Hold on, Jed,' she called over our heads, standing on tiptoe. 'I don't want anyone leaving yet. There's something important I want to say, and I want everyone here to hear it.'

Jed frowned but stayed put. Amongst the others I noticed several more puzzled frowns. I also noticed some expectant expressions in Bugs' crew, and to my dismay, something in those expressions which appeared worryingly close to smugness. More worrying was that Bugs had manoeuvred himself so that he was standing right by Sal's side. This wouldn't have been surprising in normal circumstances, but when Sal had called to Jed she'd taken a couple of steps forward. Bugs had matched these steps to remain with her, nudging Cassie aside in the process. I kicked myself for having forgotten to pass on Sal's message. 'Forewarned is forearmed,' I muttered to myself, and Keaty glanced at me.

'OK!' Sal clapped her hands. 'I'd like to start by asking everyone to sit down so you can all see me… and so I can be reassured that there are still a few things, funerals excluded, that we can all do together.'

With a good deal of exchanged looks we arranged ourselves on the grass, Bugs, predictably, remaining standing longer than everyone else.

Sal surveyed us until we were, settled, then nodded. 'In case anyone hasn't realized or heard,' she began, 'I'm going to talk about the atmosphere in the camp. I'm going to talk about it because I have no choice. I'm going to talk about it because no one else seems willing to do so, except in painfully indiscreet huddles.'

Here, to my astonishment, she stared directly at Bugs. But my astonishment was nothing on his, and a broad grin leapt to my face as I saw his cheeks flush. She'd kept her word about being even-handed, I thought approvingly, and suddenly wondered if there were unknown strains in their relationship. Delighted, I imagined the nosedive his position in the camp would take if Sal chucked him. The grin vanished, however, when she directed her next comment straight at me.

'I'll add that matters have not been helped by certain individuals who have hardly tried to patch things up. In fact, I might say they've deliberately made things worse. And yes, Richard, before you even dream of denying it, I mean you. I don't want to repeat anything that was said in the longhouse a few nights ago, but I will say that if anything like it ever happens again, the one who'll be chucking spears is me. Clear?'

She didn't wait for an answer.

'Not that Richard should be singled out. As far as I'm concerned, with very few exceptions, everybody here is guilty of having acted like a fucking idiot over this whole mess. Between the two sides of the split, I haven't seen anyone making an effort to cool things down, so I don't see Richard's behaviour as any worse than the ones who sit around in sullen gangs.'

By now the exchanged glances had stopped and we were all looking rather intently at the leaves above us or picking at loose threads on our shorts. Anywhere but at Sal.

'So the way I see things is this. We've had two severe disasters over the past week. First there was the food poisoning and then we had the unspeakable tragedy that has collected us here now. For these reasons, the atmosphere in the camp has been understandably bad. If we weren't all in a state of shock with tempers fraying, we wouldn't be human… But!' Sal punched a fist in her palm. 'It ends here! It ends with the burial of a friend, so that something positive will come of his otherwise senseless death.