Alexander Stuart - The War Zone - 20th Anniversary Edition

Back on the beach everyone hangs around in T-shirts and underwear, drinking beer while Nick and John wreck a stretch of fence and start a fire with the wooden stakes, just adding to the heat. I feel stickier now than before the swim and there’s something on the pebbles, oil or tar, which rubs off on my hands and feet and feels like it’s there for life.

The air smells great, though, salty and hot, junk food without the food. I can see where Jessica and Nick are headed, it’s obvious, and for some totally confused reason this just aggravates what’s been building in me for days, since I saw her in the bathroom, since I spoke to her in her room.

‘It happened, didn’t it?’ I ask her, taking her away from Nick and the others, cornering her between the sea and a great fist of water draining in five or six black fingers over the beach into the waves. ‘Not just what I saw – the whole thing, you did it together, didn’t you, you and Dad?’

She shakes her head, almost sad. But not friendly, she’s scared, I’ve scared her a bit. ‘You’re unbelievable.’

I hold my ground. I feel like we’re somewhere else, we’re not on a beach. Nick and the rest don’t exist. ‘Tell me I’m not going crazy.’ I can hear the wash, that sucking sound, the hiss – evil, faceless. ‘It happened, but say it’s not going to happen again.’ I’m looking at her, she seems far away, I’m the one who’s strange, I’m making her think about this. ‘Please!’

Then suddenly I’m back on safe ground. No more weird hissing. She’s got to talk. I’m in control here. I’ve got my sneakers on and I can feel my feet sticking to them with the tar from the beach. I can hear the others pissing about. Smell the bonfire, feel the heat, though I’m cold now. Jessie looks at me, guardedly. ‘I can’t understand you,’ she says. ‘Why do you keep on about this, it just makes it more difficult, don’t you realize that?’

‘Because it’s important.’

‘I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want any of us to be hurt.’ She might even mean this, but it sounds like bullshit.

I feel sad. She looks sad, but I feel it. I know she’s going to tell me, she wants to, she tells me everything. I don’t think I can take it. I thought I could, but I want to turn and walk away, let her go and do whatever she wants to do with Nick.

She looks back at him. I watch her, wondering if he thinks we’re talking about him. ‘It’s all right,’ Jessie says. ‘We did do it, but it’s all all right.’

‘What is?’ I’m stupid. I don’t want to think.

Now she’s cruel. ‘Look, any minute now I’m going to walk over there, have a drink, talk to Nick and go off in search of a nice spot where he can fuck me.’ That Chelsea voice again; she makes ‘fuck’ sound like a long drink. ‘If you were a little bit more sure of yourself and perhaps didn’t have me around and weren’t afraid of what John might do to you, you’d try the same thing with Caz—’

‘You think?’ I try to sound tough, throw it back at her. Anyway, she’s wrong. No she’s not.

‘It’s not much different with Dad.’ A cool statement. ‘It’s the same act.’

‘Oh, Jessie—’ I want to hear. I want to hit her.

‘I wanted to know what it would feel like. The walls didn’t come tumbling down.’

I can’t speak. The waves break, the black water behind her moves, keeps on moving. I don’t feel anything. I can’t feel, I can just see my father’s face, unreachable somewhere in the depths of my mind, but I can’t find how I’m supposed to feel now.

Jessie flicks her head as some insect buzzes her ear. Who is she? She’s not my sister. ‘It’s no different than me screwing Nick,’ she says. There’s something about her teeth when she talks, very precise, perfect, her tongue loves to find them, touch them. She’s a total bitch. Indescribable. She doesn’t give a shit about anyone. ‘It’s all all right, OK? I mean there’s nothing wrong. I don’t want there to be anything I wouldn’t do.’

I’m trying to take this in. ‘What? Like murder, torture?’ I’m getting angry. ‘Do you hate Mum? What about me? Do you hate me too?’

‘Calm down, will you?’ There’s a lull in the others’ voices. ‘This isn’t the place.’ We’re attracting attention. So what? But they’re talking again, John’s narky laugh dominant.

‘Why—’ I’m struggling. ‘Why did Dad do it?’ This is it. This is the worst for me. ‘Why did you let him?’

Jessie laughs. She actually laughs. Not a funny laugh, she’s not that sure of herself, but a laugh. ‘I didn’t let him. I told you, I want to go farther than all the way. Nothing’s enough, you know that, we’ve had this conversation. Incest is brilliant. It’s scarier than shagging some Adam in a pub car park or stroking another girl’s thigh in some Fulham café.’ She stares at the waves, pleased with herself, scared, thrilled. ‘Dad didn’t want to – but he did. It’s a pull, it’s like the water there. One foot in and you’re not sure. A little more and it’s got you, it’s alive, you want it.’ A black heart, that’s what Jessie wants. She likes the idea, she’d like the devil to come knocking. Banging, in her case. ‘Dad wanted to.’

I’m not hearing half of this. I’m watching her, I’m taking it in somehow, but not the words, I don’t need to hear them – I’ve already heard them. I look at her. Her mouth is a foreign object momentarily static in space. ‘You’re making this up,’ is the best I can manage.

‘You asked me. You wanted to know.’

I turn. Nick is calling her, but Jessie waves him off, she’ll be over in a minute.

She touches me. ‘Look, I’m sorry, OK?’

This is too much. This is the ultimate sick joke. She has to be joking. I punch her, not nearly hard enough, but suddenly, in the gut. ‘No, it’s not bloody OK!’ I want to fight her, I want to push her in the sea. ‘How can it be OK?’ Suddenly I’m grappling with her, our feet are wet, I’m shoving her backwards, tearing at her face, forcing her down into the spray; but just as suddenly there are hands on me, locking tight around my arms, and Nick is with Jessie.

I feel like a wally. I don’t care, but I feel utterly useless. I don’t really care about anything, but the others all think I had some petty brothersister row with Jessie and I feel about four years old, but more miserable than it’s possible to be at four. The beach seems like the end of the world: no daylight, just a yellow moon and a bonfire and I’m stuck with a gang of morons who don’t really want to know me, who feel embarrassed by my presence now, I’m spoiling their fun, they want to drink and party and there’s this kid here who still fights with his sister. Even Caz has been treating me differently, as if maybe she misjudged me before, I’m younger than she thought, I can’t handle it. Maybe it’s sympathy, but I don’t want her fucking sympathy.

My eyes are sick, they keep closing but I’m not tired. I don’t want to sleep. My head’s on the pebbles, I don’t care about the tar in my hair. I’m staring up at the sky which looks weird, smeary, there’s a mist building up or something. I’ve watched Nick and Jessie, they’ve gone off like the chosen two, all of Jessie’s stops pulled out as a result of our little run-in. Even John must feel small. I think he gave Caz a quick one in the chalk cave at the end of the beach, but it can’t have been anything monumental: she’s lost all interest now and he’s louder and more aggressive than ever – actually, I think, quite nervous. But Nick and Jessie must be moving the earth. They’ve been gone ages and the gathering has passed the joky stage, people are getting a little edgy.