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notice in a second a giant white scar running from his left ankle up to his knee.
    'This is Sonthi.' Ben turns to me again, puts his hands on my shoulders. They're big and they cover me and I don't want him to go. I'm still trembling with shock and I'm covered in coffee. 'We can get you a ticket at the airport, just go get your stuff,' he says.
    For a second I'm lost in his mad sea-blue eyes; exactly the same, only not laughing, not teasing. He doesn't want to go without me. I consider it... racing upstairs, throwing my stuff in my suitcase and leaving right now, with Ben. I was going to check out in a couple of hours anyway. I changed my ticket to Denpasar for tonight. Technically I could miss it, go anywhere. But I wouldn't be able to pack things properly if I did that and it would haunt me... and more disturbingly, the beach. The thought of it twists my insides.
    'I can't,' I tell him, wrapping my arms around myself. I clock Chinda watching us.
    'Man, we have to go, like now ,' Sonthi says. He's dragging a sack of something bulky across the floor, kicking a huge box at the same time with his foot. When I look back at Ben he's still searching my face.
    'Izzy, have you been back there?'
    'Where?'
    'To Khao Lak?'
    'No. I can't...'
    'I want you to. I live there, I run the dive shop now. I have a foundation, we built a school. Come see it. Come see it all...'
    'Ben, I can't.'
    Disappointment is etched on his features. He lets go of my shoulders. 'Ben! We have to go!' Sonthi looks hot and frustrated now. He's kicked the box and the sack onto the street and he's leaning back through the door. 'Is she coming?'
    Ben walks quickly to the reception desks, asks Chinda for a pen and paper. I notice the confusion on her face as she hands them over. He walks back to me, scribbling something down. He's so tall, and big... 
    'This is my number and my email, and you know the beach, Isla. We built the dive shop in the same place.'
    My head's as crowded as a tube carriage. I take the piece of paper he's ripped off the pad. He said my real name. It sounds strange coming from his mouth; he never said it before. He didn't know it. The tears are clouding my eyes again. I want to go with him, but I can't pack that fast and I can't go back to that beach. I can't go there, can I? I can't see it and relive it all. It's bad enough being here. 
    'I'm supposed to be going to Bali,' I say. 'I made plans for the mountains, the coffee region, my flight's all booked.'
    'Coffee and mountains? Wow, you really do like to be high, huh?' He's smiling now and I laugh, partly at the American accent I used to take the mickey out of and party because with that one quip I'm blasted back to how we were; always laughing. Panic floods me. He can't leave me, not now I only just found him. I fight the urge to cling to him, or ask him to stay here with me. Why can't he just stay here? I'm a teenager again.
    Ben takes my hand, brushes the hair out of my eyes as I look up at him. He's at least six foot tall. I don't remember him being this tall. 'Listen,' he says. 'You can book a flight from here, go book it on Khao San. Or get the bus, it takes twelve hours. Leave tonight, you'll be there by the morning.'
    'Ben...'
    'Forget Bali. You've come this far, Bizzy. Isla.'
    I scan his eyes, his angular jaw, the way it's pulsing. 'No one else calls me Bizzy.'
    'I thought Bizzy died,' he says and when his voice croaks something inside me crumbles like he's poked a hole in a wall I didn't know I built; one that was just for him. 'You're Isla now,' he says. 'You need to come back to Khao Lak.'
    Sonthi shouts for him. There's a pink cab pulled up outside and the driver is lifting the sack into the back with difficulty. It's bigger than him. 'Ben!'
    'OK, OK!' Ben puts the pad and pen on the table, picks up a backpack from the floor, throws it over his shoulder. I notice his biceps in his T-shirt straining as he holds it, but no scars. What happened to him? I have so many