He had loved it because he had simply been himself.
The following day, as arranged, Lidia met him in the lobby of the hotel.
‘Madame’ had acquired a wooden boat for them, complete with a boatman who would take them wherever Lidia suggested. As Harry stepped in, his legs felt more jelly-like than they had in the past few days, thanks to the late night and four whiskies.
‘Captain Crawford, I think we go upriver and pass Grand Temple first,’ said Lidia, sitting on the wooden bench opposite him. ‘Then we go on to floating market, okay?’
It seemed odd to hear the American expression coming from her Oriental lips.
‘Okay,’ he agreed, finding the word strange on his own lips too. ‘And for goodness’ sake, call me Harry.’
‘Okay, Harry,’ she smiled.
They set off from the hotel pier and joined the traffic. The Chaopraya River acted as a thoroughfare for the entire city and Harry was amazed there weren’t more collisions, as drivers expertly steered away from on-coming boats with inches to spare. Huge black barges, sometimes four or five in a row, held together with bits of rope, and pulled by tiny craft at the front, would appear on the horizon like menacing whales. After a couple of near misses, Harry found his hands were shaking.
Lidia read his tension. ‘Do not worry, Harry. Our driver, Sing-tu, he been steering this boat for thirty years. And he never have accident, okay?’
She leant forward and patted his hand.
The gentle gesture, he was sure, meant nothing to Lidia, but for a man starved of affection for years, it was a moment to treasure.
‘Harry, look.’
He followed her delicate outstretched hand and saw a building he could truly say warranted the word ‘palace’. With its Thai-style inverted ‘V’ roofs, clad in gold and covered with what resembled huge emeralds and rubies glinting in the sunlight, it was like a picture from one of the storybooks his mother had read to him as a child.
‘This is home of our King and Queen. We have new King now, because old one got shot.’
Harry laughed out loud at Lidia’s bluntness. He was sure her way of speaking to the point was much more to do with a lack of English vocabulary than a reflection of her personality, and it endeared her to him even more.
‘You want to go in and see Emerald Buddha in wat? He is very beautiful and very famous. He is looked after by many monk.’
‘Why not?’ agreed Harry. ‘What, may I ask, is a wat?’ he chuckled, as the driver steered the boat and hooked a rope over a wooden post by the pier.
‘You would say a temple,’ Lidia clarified, stepping out expertly and hauling Harry after her.
The gardens surrounding the Palace and the Temple of the Emerald Buddha were spectacularly beautiful, full of vibrant colours, the smell of jasmine pervading everything.
Harry stopped in front of an exquisite flowering plant with delicate blooms of soft pink and white. ‘Orchids,’ he stated. ‘They grew in the foliage around Changi and I’ve seen them everywhere since I arrived in Bangkok. They are rare in England.’
‘They are like weeds here,’ said Lidia.
‘Golly! I wish we had weeds at home like this,’ Harry said, thinking he must take some back to his mother.
He followed Lidia up the steps to the temple and removed his shoes as she did. Inside it was dark and airy, the monks in their saffron robes kneeling in prayer in front of the exquisite and surprisingly small Emerald Buddha. Lidia knelt too, with her hands in the prayer position, head bowed. Harry did the same.
After a few moments, he lifted his head and stayed there for a while, enjoying the peace and tranquillity of the temple. During his time in Changi, for want of anything better to do, he had attended a couple of lectures on religion. One of them had been on Buddhism, and he remembered thinking that its ethos came closer than others to his own feelings and thoughts on the world.
Eventually they left the temple and went back into the bright sunshine.
‘You want to go to floating market now?’ Lidia asked, as they stepped back on to the boat. ‘It is long boat journey, but I think you will enjoy.’
‘Whatever you suggest,’ said Harry.
‘Okay, I suggest this.’ Lidia spoke to the driver in fast Thai and they took off at top speed along the river. Harry lay back in the stern and watched as Bangkok floated past him. The day was very hot, despite the cool river breeze, and he wished he had bought a hat to protect his head.
After a while, the driver turned off into a narrow klong and navigated his way along the crowded waterway. As they reached the floating market, they came to a halt, for they were surrounded by wooden boats filled with merchandise and people shouting prices at their customers, who shouted back from their own boats.
The scene was delightful; colourful silks, ground spices tumbling out of hessian sacks, the smell of chicken roasting on spits, mingling with the scent of freshly cut flowers all added to the exotic atmosphere of the place.
‘You want to eat, Harry?’ Lidia asked.
‘Yes,’ Harry managed, although he was feeling very peculiar. Perhaps it was the sun, but he was dizzy and rather nauseous. Lidia stood up and shouted to a boatman selling chicken on sticks and they struck a deal. Harry closed his eyes, sweat breaking out on his forehead as the noise in his ears became overwhelming. The clamouring, high-pitched voices, the strong smells and the heat … good God, the heat! He needed some water urgently …
‘Harry, Harry, wake up.’
He opened his eyes and saw Lidia looking down at him; she was holding a cool cloth to his forehead. They were in a darkened room and he was lying on a narrow pallet on the floor. ‘Where am I?’ he asked. ‘What … happened?’
‘You faint in boat and you fall back and hit your head on wood. Are you okay?’ Lidia’s huge eyes were full of concern.
‘I see. Sorry about that.’ He struggled to sit up. ‘Could I have a drink of water?’ His parched throat and desperation for fluids brought back dark memories of Changi.
Lidia passed him a flask and he drank from it thirstily.
‘We take you to hospital, yes?’ Lidia suggested. ‘You not well.’
‘No, really, I’ll be fine now I’ve had a drink. I think I may have had too much sun and got dehydrated, that’s all.’
‘You sure?’ Lidia did not look convinced. ‘You have been sick with dengue fever. Maybe it back.’
‘I am sure, Lidia, really.’
‘Then we return to hotel now. Can you stand?’ she asked.
‘Of course.’ Harry persuaded his legs to support him and, with Lidia and the driver’s help, he left the small shack in which Lidia had sheltered him from the sun and climbed back into their boat. As they set off, Harry could not help a wry smile at the irony of fainting in a floating market when he had never once fainted in Changi, even under the most appalling conditions.
‘You wear this. I get brown and ugly on my face just for you,’ Lidia remarked, removing her coolie-style hat and putting it on Harry’s head. ‘Drink some more water.’ She handed him the flask.
‘What do you mean, brown and ugly?’ Harry asked as he lay back, grateful for the shade the hat provided.
‘It is a mark of class in Thailand,’ Lidia explained. ‘If you have pale skin you are of good class; dark and you are peasant!’
‘I see,’ smiled Harry, as the driver navigated his way out of the floating market and they headed for the Chaopraya River. Lidia sat watching him, never taking her eyes away from his face. He closed his eyes, feeling far less faint now, but knowing that something was up.
Back at the hotel, Lidia helped him out of the boat and up to the veranda.
‘You go to your room now and get some rest, Harry,’ she told him. ‘I tell Madame you sick.’
Harry spent the afternoon sleeping and was woken later by a bellboy knocking on his door to inform him that Mr Ainsley wanted to pop in and see him.
‘Send him in,’ nodded Harry, inwardly groaning at the familiar ache in his b
ones.
‘Dear boy, heard from Giselle you had a bit of an incident at the floating market this afternoon,’ Sebastian said as he came in. ‘Feeling rough again, are we?’
‘I’m afraid so,’ said Harry, ‘thought it might be the crowds, but it feels now as though it’s almost certainly not.’
‘Blast it!’ Sebastian sat down in a wicker chair. ‘I suppose that means you’ll be unable to travel home in a couple of days’ time. I came to tell you I’m booked on the ship too and was going to make the journey back to Blighty with you.’
‘I am sorry, old fellow, but just now, I doubt I will be fit enough to join you.’
‘I’ll get the doctor in to see you as soon as possible,’ said Sebastian morosely. ‘Bally shame and all that, though. Looking forward to sharing the high seas with you. Being stuck here for the past four years, I thought I would take the opportunity to go home and see the parents. The mater’s getting on rather, you know, dear old thing. Well now,’ Sebastian levered himself out of his chair, ‘I shall get the bellboy and tell him to send for the doctor forthwith. Will you be all right in Bangkok without me here?’
‘Of course I will,’ Harry reassured him.
‘Strange it’s me returning home rather than you, but there we are. I shall leave you some funds, of course. Have them reimbursed in Blighty. I’ll pop in to see your folks and reassure them you will be returning at some point. Don’t want them to think you’ve gone AWOL.’
‘No,’ muttered Harry, feeling ghastly.
‘Just one thing.’ Sebastian paused as he reached the door. ‘This country tends to be rather seductive, and the longer you stay, the more attractive it becomes. Don’t fall in love with it, dear boy, will you? Otherwise you may never return home.’
The doctor arrived and confirmed that Harry was suffering another bout of dengue fever.
‘You have been doing too much, too soon, my boy,’ he said, giving Harry a hefty dose of quinine to bring down his temperature. ‘I heard you playing in the bar the other night,’ he smiled. ‘And jolly good you were too. That’s off the agenda for now, along with alcohol. You know the ropes: rest, fluids, quinine when you need it, and let us hope we can keep you out of hospital this time.’
‘Yes, Doctor.’
‘I’m also going to prescribe you some vitamins. I shall get one of the boys to run along the road for them. And I shall be in to see you tomorrow. I will inform Madame and I am sure she will send someone to keep an eye on you.’
‘What do I owe you for your trouble, Doctor?’
The doctor turned round and gave a short smile. ‘It is I who owe you, my boy. It’s brave soldiers like you who won this damned war for us. Good day, Captain Crawford.’
Harry drifted in and out of a fitful, feverish sleep and, sometime during the evening, there was a soft tap on his door.
‘Come,’ he said. The door opened and there was Lidia, her eyes full of concern.
‘Madame tell me you still feel unwell. That you have dengue fever back again. It is my fault. I should not have taken you to such a hot, busy place when you are not strong.’
‘Lidia, really, I asked you to take me.’
Despite feeling so dreadful, Harry couldn’t help but stare at her. In the soft glow of the lamp, she looked so perfect; everything about her was exquisite to his feverish eyes. He felt a sudden unexpected and inappropriate surge of desire.
‘May I see your forehead?’ she asked, walking towards him.
‘Feel my forehead? Of course,’ he nodded, and enjoyed the sensation of her cool palm on his brow, not to mention the heavenly scent of her in such close proximity.
‘Yes, you are too warm,’ she pronounced. Then she produced a small bag of herbs from her skirt pocket. ‘At home, we use Chinese medicine always. This one especially for fever and aching bones. You want to try? I can make up as tea for you.’
‘Lidia, I will try anything,’ Harry said with fervour. ‘I am so damned sick of being sick.’
‘Then I will bring it to you and you will feel better by the morning. I promise,’ she smiled. ‘It contain magic.’
‘I do hope so,’ replied Harry, managing a smile in return.
‘I go and make it now.’
‘Thank you.’
Harry watched her leave and lay back. As he gazed up at the ceiling fan, he realised this seemingly rotten bad luck could have benefits.
Lidia was back ten minutes later, holding a glass.
‘I warn you, Harry, it taste very bad,’ she said as she helped him sit up.
‘Then it will work. Or, at least, that’s what my mother used to say when I was a little boy, and she was feeding me some foul medicine,’ joked Harry weakly.
‘Very bad,’ she reiterated as she put the glass to his mouth.
Harry almost gagged on the first mouthful but, remembering the live maggots he had eaten in Changi, told himself to stop being a jessie and drank it all down.
‘Gosh,’ he spluttered, ‘you were right.’
Lidia passed him some water to take away the taste.
‘Now, Harry, you rest. If you need anything, you ring bell. Madame has asked me to sleep in room across from you tonight. I check you in one hour. You will feel very, very hot soon, but is only herbs helping break fever and it will stop.’
‘I look forward to that,’ he gulped as she walked to the door. He wondered whether he had been foolish to trust her.
‘Do not worry, Harry. I will be here.’
Lidia’s prediction proved right: within an hour, Harry was on fire. Lidia arrived with cool cloths for his forehead, as he tossed and turned with a raging fever. A couple of hours later it abated. Exhausted, Harry fell into sleep.
36
Late the following morning, Harry woke feeling far better than he had expected. Although there was still an ache in his bones, its intensity had diminished, and when the doctor arrived, he confirmed with surprise that his patient’s temperature was indeed only one degree above normal.
‘Remarkable,’ the doctor surmised. ‘I thought you were in for another bad bout, but it seems not. Well done and keep up the good work.’
Lidia popped her head round the door after the doctor had left. She was holding another glass of evil-smelling herbs.
‘How are you, Harry?’
‘Better, thank you.’ He eyed the glass suspiciously. ‘You’ve not come to set me on fire again, have you?’
Lidia giggled, showing her perfect teeth. ‘Of course not,’ she answered, proud of the new words she had learnt from him. ‘This is for big strength, to build up body and stop bad dengue fever coming back. It give you energy and appetite. No fire, I promise.’
‘Does it taste as bad as the last one?’ Harry asked as he sat up, bracing himself.
‘Worse,’ she admitted, ‘so even better for you.’
Harry drank the foul-tasting mixture, then lay back panting, trying not to gag. ‘Are you a witch?’ he asked. ‘The doctor couldn’t believe how much I’d improved.’
‘Perhaps,’ she smiled, ‘but a good one. Now I must leave you, as I have new guests arriving very soon. I will come back later to see how strong you have grown.’
Harry chuckled as she left the room, thinking how delightful it was to watch her personality emerge as her confidence with him grew. And whatever these brews of hers were, they certainly worked.
By suppertime, Harry felt hungry, and ordered some noodles to be brought to his room. As he sat up in bed to eat them, he decided he was happy to continue having occasional bouts of the dreaded dengue fever if Lidia could be his nurse and his saviour.
Over the next couple of days, Harry slept far more than he felt he should and ate whatever was put in front of him. When he wasn’t sleeping, he thought about Lidia. She looked in to see him whenever she could, her eyes alight with pleasure that he was recovering.
And every day she looked more beautiful.
Harry began to live for her visits, fantasised afterwards about beckoning her over to the be
d, enfolding her tiny body in his arms, kissing the perfectly formed arcs of her lips, feeling her small, sharp pearl-white teeth with his tongue … In his rational moments, Harry tried to reason that his enforced separation from females accounted for the effect she was having on him. On the other hand, he could not remember, in all his adult life, feeling like this about a woman.
He hardly knew her, or anything about her life beyond the little she had told him. But he did know her … she was kind, with a sense of humour, and very bright. Her grasp of English, the way she could make herself understood, despite her lack of vocabulary, was impressive. Used to the riddles of English girls with their full command of the language, he found it refreshing that Lidia said what she meant in so few words. And then there was her beauty. Harry had never been easily aroused physically, certainly not by thoughts alone. Now, picturing her would engender an immediate, urgent stirring in his groin. He supposed it was reassuring that all parts of him were still in full working order, after the physical and emotional beatings he had taken in Changi. And that, after all his doubting, a woman could finally induce such a strong physical reaction.
It was something he had never felt for Olivia.
His wife.
Harry thought back to all the times the fellows in Changi had discussed their feelings of lust and love. Was this what he felt for Lidia? Love?
On the fourth day of his incarceration, and when, unusually, Lidia had not popped her head round the door to see how he was, Harry ventured out of his room at sunset. He strolled across the lobby to the Bamboo Bar, for want of something better to do, glancing at the reception desk on his way.
‘You are better?’ Giselle appeared behind him.
‘Yes, much, thank you. I was just wondering where Lidia had got to.’
‘She has taken a day off,’ Giselle said distractedly. ‘Family problems, I believe.’
Harry’s heart started to pound. ‘She’s all right, isn’t she?’
‘I do not know, Captain Crawford. I’m her employer, not her mother, although I am very fond of Lidia. She has a difficult life.’
Rattled, Harry headed to the Bamboo Bar, which was not due to open for an hour and was currently deserted. He sat down at the piano, lifted the lid and began to play.
Hothouse Flower Page 29
