concluding that Alan had simply fallen – but, by then, there was already talk about business feuds and the like.
Jin: Your system is not our system. People said we had a small mentality, that your way is better, but there was no problem with my investigation. No problem at all.
Emma: As soon as Jin finished that one cigarette, he moved onto the next. I said I thought Dad must have been pushed. It was mainly because I couldn’t see a way Dad would have fallen, not after what happened with Alan. Why would he be right on the edge? Nothing made sense.
Jin: I told her: ‘Maybe he jumped?’
Emma: There was no reason for Dad to do that. He was happy, not suicidal. It was offensive that Jin even said it. He then added: ‘Funny you seem to know what I think’.
I didn’t know what to say about that. It felt like a challenge: a way of telling me to stay out of his way. I was ready to go, but then he called me back.
Jin: I said I’d seen Lander that morning – because I had.
Emma: I know what he was trying to do when he said that. He wanted to show that he still held something over me, even though he didn’t.
I’d not heard Lander’s name in a long while and I waited for a moment, wondering if he had something else to say. Jin gave me a card and told me to call if I thought of anything. He said he hoped Dad recovered – and I walked away.
Jin: That was the first time anyone mentioned a push. It was her, on that cliff, the morning after.
Chapter Six
THE SMELL OF HOPE OR SEWERS
Emma: I walked down the path, away from the edge and that stupid cone. I thought about heading back into the hotel, but it was late in the morning and the scent of the village was in the air. It’s always the smells that get me.
Not long after I’d been released, I’d gone into a mall where the cleaners were busy working. They were using this detergent that must have been the same one from prison. I was frozen in front of the door, unable to shift until someone asked if I could move. I bet I could smell that again in thirty years and it would still send me right back in time.
That’s what it was like when I was outside the hotel. I was helpless to do anything other than follow my nose down the slope towards the centre of the village. It was déjà vu the entire way, remembering how I used to feel making this journey. I was a young woman then, a girl even, and I had my whole life ahead of me. This time, it felt like so much of my life was behind me. I’d wasted those best years and, if anything, gone backwards.
Julius: Emma always had a thing about the village below the hotel. I didn’t see it myself. The hotel was about as luxurious as you’re going to get on an island like that, so why waste your time in a dump?
Emma: Things must have changed over time, but, as I got to the edge of the market, it all seemed the same as I remembered. There were the stalls selling counterfeit football shirts, bags and branded tops. The rug stall was still on the corner, with a huge, faded carpet rolled up against a telegraph pole. I swear it was like that the last time I’d seen it.
I suppose the sights are much like any market – but it’s the smell that sets it apart. It’s hard to describe because you have to experience it. It starts at some time after eleven, when the locals are cooking lunch, hoping to entice the tourists. There are these huge vats of rice, vegetables and spices, which blends with fresh fish being grilled on outdoor barbecues. Because the village sits down a path below the hotel, it all whips together on the breeze and drifts its way up.
It’s just…
…
It’s the smell of hope and being young. Summer and sun. There’s nothing like it.
Julius: I don’t think I’ve ever noticed a smell. Sometimes the sewers run over. Is that what you’re talking about?
Emma: I ended up sitting at a table outside a café. There was shade and a gentle breeze. All I wanted to do was watch and listen. To absorb everything. I had a lump in my throat and