The Other Hand

body. She kissed him on the cheek.
    “I love you, Andrew. I’m pleased we came away. I’m so sorry I let you down. It won’t happen again.”
    “Really?”
    “Really. I don’t love Lawrence. How could I? Let’s make a fresh start, hmm?”
    On the beach, the white man smiled. In the shadows, Little Bee cupped her hand over Kindness’s ear. She whispered: What is a cunt? Kindness looked back at her, and rolled her eyes. Right down there, girl, right close to your vagabond. Little Bee bit her hand so she wouldn’t giggle.
    But then the sisters heard dogs. They could hear everything, because there was a cool morning breeze, a land breeze that carried all sounds. The dogs were still a long way off, but the sisters heard them barking. Kindness grabbed Little Bee’s arm. Down on the beach, the white woman looked up at the jungle.
    “Oh listen, Andrew,” she said. “Dogs!”
    “Probably the local lads are hunting. Must be plenty to catch in this jungle.”
    “Still, I wouldn’t have thought they’d use dogs.”
    “So what in the hell did you think they’d use?”
    The white woman shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said. “Elephants?”
    The white man laughed. “You insufferable English,” he said. “The empire’s still alive for you, isn’t it? You only need to close your eyes.”
    Now a soldier came running up the beach from the direction the white couple had come. He was panting. He wore olive-green trousers and a light gray vest dark with sweat. He had military boots on, and they were heavy with damp sand. He had a rifle slung on his back, and the barrel was swinging at the sky.
    “Oh for fuck’s sake,” the white man said. “Here comes that doofus of a guard again.”
    “He’s only doing his job.”
    “Yeah, but can’t they let us do our own thing even for one minute?”
    “Oh, relax. The holiday was free, remember? We were never going to have it all our own way.”
    The guard came level with the white couple and he stopped. He was coughing. He had his hands on his knees.
    “Please, mister, missus,” he said. “Sorry please to come back to hotel compound.”
    “But why?” the white woman said. “We were just going for a walk along the beach.”
    “It is not safe missus,” the guard said. “Not safe for you and mister. Sorry boss.”
    “But why?” said the white man. “What is actually the problem?”
    “No problem,” said the guard. “Here is very good place. Very good. But all tourist must stay please in hotel compound.”
    Unseen in the jungle, the dogs were barking louder now. The sisters could hear the shouts of the men running with them. Kindness was trembling. The two sisters held each other. Now one of the dogs howled and the others joined in. In the hiding place there was a splashing on the dry leaves and a smell of urine—the reality of Kindness’s fear. Little Bee looked into her eyes. It didn’t look as if her sister was even seeing her.
    Down on the beach the white man was saying, “Is this about money?”
    And the guard was saying, “No mister.”
    The guard stood up straight and looked into the jungle where the noise of the dogs was. He unslung his rifle. Little Bee saw the way he held it. He took the safety catch off and he reached down to check the magazine. Two magazines—I remember that myself—bound back-to-back with blue insulation tape.
    The white man said, “Oh don’t give us the big performance. Just tell us how much you want. Come on. My wife is sick to the gills of being cooped up in that fuckin compound. What will you take to let us go for a walk on our own? One dollar?”
    The guard shook his head. He wasn’t looking at the white man. He was watching a flock of red birds flying up from the jungle, two hundred yards away.
    “No dollar,” the guard said.
    “Ten dollars, then,” the white woman said.
    “Oh for the love of god, Sarah,” the white man said. “That is way too much. That’s a week’s wages here.”
    “Don’t be such a tight-arse,” the white woman said. “What’s ten dollars to us? It’s nice to be able to do something for these people. God knows they have little enough.”
    “Well, look then, five dollars,” the white man said.
    The guard was watching the treetops. One hundred and fifty yards away, up a shallow gully, the tips of the palm ferns were twitching.
    “You come back with me now,” the guard said. “Hotel compound is best for you.”
    “Listen,” the white man said. “I’m sorry if we