Hothouse Flower

by Lucinda Riley

  He must have dozed off too, for the next thing he knew the train was coming to a halt and Lidia was shaking him gently. He roused himself, collected his case and followed Lidia on to the platform. They were immediately surrounded by hawkers, plying them with food, drink, jasmine garlands and roughly carved wooden animals. Lidia led Harry away and sat him down on a bench under a bamboo canopy.

  ‘You stay here. I go to get lunch.’

  A small Thai child approached him, smiling shyly, fascinated by him. Harry mopped his brow and took a sip of water, as Lidia returned with lunch and put a pile of thin cotton sheets in front of him. ‘Try these on.’

  ‘For me to wear?’ he asked, holding up a red tablecloth and discovering it was a pair of trousers with what seemed to be a small apron attached to the front. There was also a loose white cotton shirt.

  She pointed to a bamboo cabin nearby. ‘Try on in there.’

  He stripped as fast as he could, relieved to be out of his heavy twill trousers and finest quality cotton shirt, and put on the items Lidia had given him. He struggled to navigate the workings of the unusual three-quarter-length trousers, but eventually managed to secure the apron across his front as the locals did, making him look as though he was wearing a skirt.

  The Thai child was standing waiting outside with Lidia and let out peals of laughter when she saw him.

  ‘I’m sure I do look awfully silly,’ he said, embarrassed.

  ‘No, Harry,’ said Lidia softly. ‘You look like Thai man now. Better for island and Song Kran. Now, I go to change.’ Lidia left, and Harry amused himself teaching the child English words. He was rewarded with a beautiful smile and a rough pronunciation of the words he spoke to her.

  Harry couldn’t help a gasp when Lidia reappeared. Instead of her Western uniform, she was wearing a pair of trousers similar to his and a simple Chinese-style cotton blouse in pink. But the most noticeable change was in her hair: she had freed it from the tight knot at the back of her head. It now cascaded in a shining, ebony mass over her shoulders and down to her waist.

  Harry reached out his fingers involuntarily, longing to run them through the utter luxuriant femininity of it. He looked down and saw her tiny, delicate feet were bare. The perfect toes transfixed him. He wasn’t used to seeing women’s feet in England. The sight seemed so intimate, so naked, that Harry experienced a surge through his groin. He was glad that the strange apron he was wearing had some use.

  ‘Now, we must get on new train,’ said Lidia.

  Harry said goodbye to the little girl and stood up to follow Lidia.

  A voice behind them shouted: ‘You two in love! You get marry!’

  They travelled for three exhausting hours. Harry felt terribly relieved when the train finally stopped. A short bus ride took them to a pier, and when Harry stepped off he was greeted by an idyllic expanse of turquoise sea and a cloud-covered, mountainous land mass in the distance.

  ‘That is Koh Chang,’ Lidia pointed out. ‘See, there is my uncle, waiting for us!’

  Harry followed Lidia to one of the numerous wooden fishing boats that bobbed gently by the pier. He hung back as Lidia greeted her uncle affectionately. There followed a conversation in fast Thai and some pointing at Harry, before Lidia beckoned him over.

  ‘Harry, this is Tong, my uncle, but he speak no English.’

  Uncle Tong bowed to him in the traditional Thai greeting and rose with a big toothless grin and a hearty handshake. He spoke to Harry, and Lidia translated for him that he was pleased to welcome him into the family for the tradition of Song Kran.

  ‘Please tell your uncle I am honoured to be here,’ Harry replied as Tong helped him down into the boat, and they set off towards Koh Chang.

  As they crossed the calm ocean, the sinking sun made its sudden dive into the sea and the light began to fade. Within fifteen minutes they were pulling in to the shore and darkness had fallen. Tong reached beneath him and pulled out two oil lamps, which he lit. Lidia glanced at Harry excitedly as her uncle helped him on to terra firma, and he felt the touch of soft sand beneath his feet.

  ‘Welcome, Harry, to my father’s island home,’ Lidia smiled.

  It was difficult for Harry to have any reaction to his surroundings as it was now pitch-black, but they were walking along a beach. And nestled amongst high palm trees were wooden huts, lit by the soft glow of oil lamps. As they drew nearer, a group of children and an elderly woman came across the sand to them. They shouted greetings to Lidia and she ran towards them. Harry watched as she was encircled in the old woman’s arms, and presumed this was Lidia’s grandmother. When Lidia turned back to him, the oil lamp reflected the glistening in her eyes.

  ‘Come, Harry, come and meet my family. They are pleased that you are here to celebrate Song Kran with us.’

  Harry met the extended family: Lidia’s grandmother and grandfather, her uncle and aunt with their four children, and a further aunt and her husband with their three children.

  Harry was handed a bottle of beer by Tong. He sat down on one of the mats on the sand and was immediately surrounded by small nieces and nephews. They all spoke a little English, and fired questions at Harry about him fighting in the war and whether he had killed any Japs. He answered them as best he could, not sure they understood much of what he was saying, but becoming very adept as a mime artist. When he pointed his pretend gun at a pretend Japanese soldier, the children veered off round the beach, shouting ‘Bang! Bang!’ and aiming their own imaginary guns.

  Lidia came out of the darkness and sat down gracefully next to him. ‘Tonight you sleep here in hut on beach. My aunt, she prepare it for you now.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Harry answered. ‘Where will you stay?’

  ‘At my grandmother’s house, in village behind beach.’

  ‘So who lives here?’ he asked.

  ‘My Uncle Tong, Aunt Kitima and their children. He is fisherman, so he like to be near work. They are building big house in village now and one day they go to live there.’

  ‘I would stay right here,’ he murmured as he glanced up at the moon. He had studied its cycle for want of anything better to do on those long nights in Changi. From the size and shape of it now, Harry knew it would be full this time tomorrow. He could hear the waves breaking gently on the sand, only fifty yards from him. ‘It’s so marvellously soothing,’ he added.

  ‘I am glad you like. You are ready for food now?’ Lidia indicated the smoky fire and the grill of fat, fresh fish suspended over it.

  Harry nodded and heaved himself upright.

  They all sat together at a long wooden table, the children sitting on mats around the adults, eating the best fish Harry had ever tasted in his life. The children had big coconuts and drank the milk inside with relish. Much of the talk around him he couldn’t understand; yet the language of a happy, warm, comfortable family gathering was universal. Lidia was sitting between her grandparents and she often glanced over to him, her eyes asking him if he was all right.

  He always smiled back: he was.

  An hour or so later, Harry felt the exertions of the day catching up with him. He yawned, but tried to disguise it.

  Lidia noticed immediately, then whispered across the table to her aunt, who clapped her hands together. The children around her fell silent. She spoke to them and they nodded sadly, knowing that their time cavorting around the beach was coming to a close and they must go to bed.

  Lidia walked over to Harry. ‘My aunt show you where you sleep,’ she said. ‘I come and get you tomorrow, okay?’

  ‘There is absolutely no rush, Lidia. Please enjoy your family. I am very content just to be here. And your family has been very welcoming. Please say thank you to them for me.’

  ‘Now, Harry, you can say that for yourself,’ she encouraged.

  ‘Yes, of course. Kop khun krup,’ he said, and bowed rather stiffly. The smiles he received were ones of affection and appreciation, not derision. He followed Lidia’s aunt along the beach and she indicated the last hut.r />
  ‘Mister Harry, we pleased … have you.’ She returned his effort with halting English.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said, turning the wooden handle of the hut. ‘Goodnight.’ He stepped inside, closed the door and turned to see that the hut was bare, bar a mattress on the floor, a freshly laundered sheet and a mosquito net. Too exhausted to remove his clothes, he lay down on the bed and fell asleep immediately.

  38

  When Harry woke to a slight ache in his hip bone from the thin mattress, he had a moment of panic. Then he realised where he was and opened his eyes. The room was still in shadow, the only light coming from a small mesh window facing the palm trees at the back of the hut. Harry stretched, stood upright and went to open the door.

  He gasped at the sight that met his eyes.

  He was standing on a magnificent beach, its powdery white sand stretching in a curve and ending in a hilly, wooded peninsula. The sand shelved gently towards a calm, deep-green sea. He looked to his left, then to his right, and could not see another living soul.

  Harry stripped to his long johns and raced across the burning hot sand to jump into the sea. He swam hard for a while, then turned over and lay on his back, looking first at the perfect azure sky, then back towards land, where coconut palms drooped and swayed idyllically, framing the beach. Behind the beach, and stretching, cloud-topped, into the distance, were jungle-covered mountains, providing what must be an impassable hinterland.

  He floated there for a long time, hardly believing that this paradise was his, and his alone to enjoy. Finally, he came out of the sea and flopped on to the hot white sand, feeling euphoric at the sheer beauty of this magical place.

  He saw a small figure holding a parasol walking towards him and sat up. It was Lidia, wearing a concerned frown. ‘You okay, Harry?’ she called. ‘We think you gone away, but then we see your clothes.’ She smiled at him shyly.

  Embarrassed that she had caught him in his soggy long johns, Harry stood up and walked swiftly back towards the hut.

  ‘I decided to go for a swim,’ he said. ‘Lidia, this beach is the most glorious spot I have ever seen in my life.’

  Her face lit up. ‘I glad you like it, Harry. It is good for peace, yes?’

  ‘Gosh, yes.’ He wagged his finger at her. ‘I am warning you, I may never want to leave.’

  ‘Then you must become fisherman,’ she said, handing him his clothes.

  ‘I can learn,’ Harry nodded, ‘if it means I can stay here forever.’

  ‘You want to go for wash?’ she asked. ‘There is water pipe behind my uncle and aunt’s hut, and cloth for you to dry yourself. I wait here.’ Lidia sat down on the doorstep of his hut.

  Harry returned five minutes later, feeling refreshed after a blast of clean, cold water.

  ‘Now, we walk to village and I take you to my grandmother house, okay?’ She reached for his hand and squeezed it. ‘And happy Song Kran, Khun Harry.’

  He loved the touch of her fingers on his. ‘And the same to you,’ Harry replied, suddenly desperate to take her in his arms and kiss her.

  They made their way along a narrow, sandy path for ten minutes to reach the village. As they turned into the dusty main street, they were both drenched by a pail of water thrown by a couple of children, who screamed in glee at their accuracy.

  ‘What the heck!’ exclaimed Harry, the cold water taking him by surprise.

  Lidia was doing her best to shake herself dry. She giggled. ‘Song Kran, it is about cleansing, taking away all dirt from past, and making new and fresh for the future. Look …’

  Harry followed where she was pointing. Everywhere along the dusty street, there were people of assorted ages holding a miscellany of implements, throwing water on to any hapless passer-by in the way.

  ‘Today is one day you will never get too hot,’ Lidia laughed, ‘and you will not be dry either!’

  She was climbing up the steps to a wooden house built on stilts. On the veranda was a collection of pails and buckets, filled with water.

  ‘This is my grandparents’ house,’ Lidia explained, ‘and now you must throw some water like this. See?’ Lidia took one of the pails and chucked it into the street; Harry did the same, managing to hit a small boy, who shrieked and giggled as he shook the water out of his eyes.

  ‘Sorry,’ called Harry guiltily.

  ‘No!’ Lidia shook her head. ‘You must not say sorry! The more people you hit, the luckier for New Year.’

  ‘I see,’ said Harry.

  Lidia led him inside the house and into the kitchen at the back, where three or four women were busy preparing vegetables, fish, noodles and soup for later in the day.

  ‘Harry is here,’ she called to her grandmother, who turned round and gave him a wide, toothless grin. ‘You see, we make special feast for our lunch. It is tradition.’

  ‘Thank you. Can I do anything to help?’ Harry asked.

  ‘No, you are guest. And we Thais never ask men to do woman’s work. You stay here, you relax, okay?’

  She headed back into the kitchen and Harry sat on the veranda, watching the water rituals in the street below him. The sound of laughter and the sense of joy that pervaded the village were uplifting. Even though this tiny community, adrift in the middle of the sea, had little in the way of material possessions, he felt the warmth. Having only seen the brutal side of humanity for four long years, the sight brought a tear to his eye.

  When Lidia reappeared from the kitchen, she was holding a large basket of fruit and vegetables.

  ‘We go visiting, Harry, to bring Song Kran gift to the old and sick of the village. You come with me?’

  Harry stood up. ‘Of course. Here, let me take that.’ He hooked the heavy basket over his arm and followed Lidia down the steps.

  They spent the next hour in and out of the houses all over the village. Lidia encouraged Harry to put his hands together in the wai and pronounce the traditional greeting: ‘Sawadee krup’. She explained that they offered gifts to the elderly, who, in return, offered to cleanse their souls and forgive their wrong-doings of the past year.

  Harry felt this tradition was so much more jolly and all-encompassing than communion, or the lonely Catholic confessional box. He watched Lidia kneel down beside a frail old man and talk animatedly to him. She took his hand in hers and stroked it gently.

  Whilst they walked back towards her grandparents’ house, long tables were being set up in the middle of the street in preparation for the feast. The familiar faces of the extended family he had met last night gathered at the table. Two monks from the local temple joined them, resplendent in their saffron robes. Harry looked at the tables of families winding in a long line down the street. It seemed every single resident was present.

  He tasted every dish he was offered then, under duress, played football with any number of small children along the street and got drenched by countless further dousings.

  When the night drew in, Lidia’s grandfather stood up and made a speech. The atmosphere changed swiftly as the old man spoke and let the tears run freely down his cheeks. Harry looked around at Lidia’s other relatives and saw they too had tears in their eyes. Then one of the monks stood up and chanted in a melodic, high-pitched voice.

  The sombre air lasted no longer than fifteen minutes and when the villagers began to drift away to recover from the day’s festivities, Lidia left her place at the table and came over to Harry.

  ‘Khun Harry, you are tired now, yes? I walk you home.’

  After a round of ‘thank you’s’ and much bowing and pressing of fingers to their noses, Lidia and Harry left the village and began to walk back towards the hut on the beach.

  ‘Why was your grandfather crying?’ he asked gently.

  ‘He talked of my father,’ Lidia replied sadly. ‘We were remembering him on this special day and wishing his soul well. The monk said it will be well, for he has learnt the lesson of suffering in this life. When he come back for next life, maybe his lesson will not be so hard. That is wh
at we Buddhists believe.’

  ‘It must be comforting to believe suffering has a purpose beyond our lives,’ mused Harry. ‘If it’s true, then many of the poor buggers who suffered so badly and died in Changi will be very happy next time around.’

  She looked up at him. ‘You believe in your god?’

  ‘Well, it was never explained to me very well as a child,’ he admitted. ‘It was just something I did. Every Sunday at home and every day at school, I went to chapel. I didn’t think beyond the fact it was jolly tedious having to sit still for a long time, sing dull tunes and listen to some old chap boring the pants off me. And all for someone I couldn’t even see, or feel, and seemed to do nothing, but still had to be worshipped.’

  ‘What is “boring the pants”?’ asked Lidia.

  This made Harry smile. ‘An English expression,’ he explained. ‘When I was in Changi, many of the men began to believe in God. Perhaps they had to believe in something. But I …’ Harry shook his head and sighed, ‘I suppose I found it hard to believe that any good god could make innocent men suffer the way we did.’

  Lidia nodded. ‘I also, when my father die, do not take comfort through belief. I think to myself: perhaps he go to a better place, but what about me? I lose my father before I am ready. But now,’ she added quietly, ‘I accept.’

  ‘Does your family know your mother is leaving for Japan?’ asked Harry, as they arrived on the beach.

  ‘No. It is better this way. It would cause too much pain and they have enough. They lose their son. They are from different world, here on Koh Chang. They would not understand.’ Lidia sighed and managed a weak smile. ‘Sometimes, Harry, life seems very hard.’