As they approached the camp Ruth looked up at the cliff above their shelters and saw a large piece of brightly coloured fabric, once someone's costume, flapping in the wind. She wondered if it had blown away, but it appeared to be attached to a bush at the top of the cliff. Had it been hung out to dry, perhaps?
Sophie was just climbing down the cliff and came over to them. "Does it show up well?" she asked eagerly. "I thought that since the fire was out I'd hang that up like a flag, in case anyone might see it."
"Well, it shows up well from here," Ruth said.
"We should be able to get the fire going soon," Alex said.
In the usual heat the island had completely dried out, and Jack was already rebuilding the fire. Food had been gathered, but there seemed to be less of it than on previous days. The techies had begun trying to rebuild the shelter that had collapsed in the storm, but little seemed to have been achieved so far. There was a general air of depression and tiredness around.
Everyone dozed through the hottest middle part of the day. Looking around, Ruth realised that Patrick had once again disappeared. She had heard one or two of the others remarking on his repeated absence and was beginning to worry that one of the others would take it upon themselves to reprimand him. Emma had often got cross with him for not doing what she thought he should, and Ruth was worried that in the fearful and downhearted atmosphere at present it would damage their chances of working together. She tried not to think about it, but, tired as she was, she couldn't sleep and her worries would not give her any peace.
In the cool of the evening people tried to rouse themselves. Jack managed to get the fire going and they ate a sparse meal of roots and berries. After the meal most of the others had gone off down to the beach when Patrick appeared, once more with an armful of fruit. Ruth had to admit that he had certainly contributed as much if not more than anyone else had. Patrick built up the fire, collected some water from the stream and put it on to boil. Then he took from his various pockets small bundles of dried leaves and laid them out on a flat rock.
"What are you up to?" she asked.
"Trying to make tea," he said. "I found several plants that looked promising, so I picked bunches of leaves and dried them in the sun. I'll experiment and see what they taste like."
"How do you know if they're edible?" Rachel asked.
"I'm not certain, but they look like camellias, the family tea plants come from. I'm sure I read somewhere you can make tea from other types of plant leaves. I'm sure it'll be ok."
"You're mad," Charlotte said.
"No, I think he may be right," Ruth said. "It's worth trying, anyway. I could really do with a cup of tea."
The water boiled, and Patrick put his dried leaves in small containers and added the water. After a few minutes' brewing, he tasted them. Some he pulled faces at and spat out at once. Others, he said, didn't really taste of anything. Some, though, he said were more promising. Ruth tasted one or two. None were exactly like tea, but did remind her of it, and they weren't unpleasant.
"The question is, though, can you remember which bushes the good leaves came from?" she asked.
"I think so," he said, with a smile that implied that he wasn't sure. "Tomorrow I'll get some more and try blending the best together."
"Tea making from first principals," Tom said.
"Well, it seems to be working," Rachel said.
Ruth heard the others coming back, and her worries of the afternoon returned. She didn't think Emma was going to be impressed by Patrick's tea experiments.
She was right. As soon as she saw Patrick Emma strode over, demanding to know what he had been doing.
"We've been worrying and working and trying to sort things out, and you just disappear. We spend all the time- Ruth thought this rather an exaggeration- working out how to get food, and making shelters, and collecting firewood, while you just swan off and wander around! It's not fair!"
Patrick just stood there. He didn't seem able to articulate anything in his own defence.
"He brought back loads of fruit," Rachel interjected. "And he's trying to make tea."
"Faffing around with dry leaves! Oh great, that's going to keep us alive when we've run out of food! We need to work together, not go running off and doing whatever we fancy. We'd be in trouble if everyone did that. It's not fair on the rest of us that do all the work if you just wander off and enjoy yourself, then turn up and reap the benefits of what we've done. You've got to help us, work with us."
Ruth kept quiet and didn't interfere. While in many ways she agreed with Emma, she feared that this sort of argument would only destroy the very unity she was advocating. And it wasn't as if he hadn't contributed. Emma was painting him blacker than he really was. Despite having similar reservations about his behaviour, Ruth's instincts were to jump in to defend Patrick. But it wouldn't help matters.
And he wouldn't, or perhaps couldn't, defend himself. He just stood there, accepting Emma's anger in silence. And, Ruth thought, he would feel all the worse because it was coming from Emma. She never tried to understand why people behaved the way they did, just getting frustrated and taking it out on them.
"So are you going to help us tomorrow?" Emma demanded.
"I...I'll try," he stammered.
"I'm not sure that's good enough. For once in your life give a straight answer!"
"I will," he said shakily. Ernest came forward, and putting an arm round Emma he steered her away. Patrick turned and walked away towards the sea.
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