by Lynda Renham
‘Look, can you please stop shouting at me,’ I hiss, while continuing to smile and feeling sure my mouth will never return to normal. Where is sodding Alex-slice-your-tongue-out-Bryant when I need him?
I turn and see him standing behind me. Thank goodness.
‘They want to take your fingerprints.’
‘But I haven’t done anything yet. I’m not a criminal.’
‘Nobody said you were. It’s standard practice here at passport control.’
‘Oh, I thought… I don’t really know what I thought,’ I say in a whisper.
‘You’re not a secret agent,’ he says dismissively, making me feel stupid. I suddenly hate him very much. I really don’t need anybody’s help to feel stupid. He talks rapidly in what must be Khmer. Honestly, he thinks he is such a smart bugger. He then ushers me through security and outside into the hot evening air where a driver is waiting with our suitcases. We weave through the sea of taxi drivers, porters and ticket touts each insisting we accept their services. The setting sun paints the airport terminal building a fiery orange. Everyone is shouting and beckoning to us. A row of palm trees line the road where countless motorbikes stream by. The noise from the motorbikes eclipses the shouting of the touts and a smell of hot tarmac and exhaust fumes assaults me.
‘As you’re tired we’ll take a taxi to the hotel but in future it is best to use a tuk-tuk.’
I am starting to detest that ‘I know-it-all’ voice of his.
‘A tuk-tuk?’ It is more of a statement than a question. Of course I know what a tuk-tuk is.
‘Don’t worry about it,’ he responds tersely, making me feel stupid again.
He signals for me to climb into the taxi and I do so gratefully, collapsing onto the back seat. Within moments he has joined me. I fumble in my bag for the hotel’s address. After inspecting it the driver says in a flat voice,
‘I take you for twenty-five dollar.’
I nod, but know-it-all Bryant perks up.
‘That seems a lot. There are plenty of taxi drivers, is that the best you can do?’ he argues.
For pity’s sake, I am knackered and he wants to argue over a few dollars?
‘It’s fine, I’ll pay. I’m not going to look for another taxi,’ I say forcefully.
‘It’s your money but he’s ripping you off,’ he says dismissively.
I let my head flop back. The air conditioning wafts over me and after a cursory glance at Alex, who has also dropped his head back, I allow myself to fall asleep. I figure I can see the sights another night.
Something jolts me awake and for a second I am unsure where I am. I check my Blackberry to see we have been travelling for several hours. Alex’s head is resting on my shoulder and he is sound asleep. His hand is lying on my knee. I take a quick peek at his sleeping face. His superhero guise has taken on a childlike quality. I imagine all that will change when he wakes up. I try to imagine what I must look like and gently remove a mirror from my bag. God, I look like a member of the Addams family. My eyes are black and smudgy. I knew I shouldn’t have worn mascara. The corners of my mouth are crusty and horrid and there is a distinct odour coming from my armpits, or is it Alex Bryant’s arm pit? Stupid Libby as if Alex-call-me-Indiana-Bryant actually perspires. His mobile dangles precariously from his other hand and I gently remove it. It vibrates as I do so and a text pops up onto the screen.
‘I am so wishing we could have talked more honey. I’m missing you so much already. You must be at the hotel. Can’t imagine how you are coping with that Lily woman. At least I don’t have any need to be jealous. We’re wrapping everything up here in Beijing tonight. Speak soon. Love you Pen. X’
What a cheek. She can’t even get my name right. I suppose she thinks I am too fat for Alex Bryant to fancy. I stupidly feel tears prick the back of my eyelids. This is ridiculous. I must pull myself together. I am so tired and the hotel seems miles away. We must surely get there soon.
‘Hotel?’ queries the driver suddenly.
‘Oh good, are we near?’ I ask, attempting to speak as clearly as I can.
‘Hotel?’ he asks again.
‘Yes please. We are very tired.’
He shrugs and turns the taxi onto a dirt track where we swerve and bump dangerously along. Alex stirs and his hand wanders up my thigh. Surely he is still asleep, or is he pretending to be asleep and making a pass at me? With me looking like I do? I don’t think so. Or he is mistaking me for someone else. My hand brushes his off roughly. He jumps with a start, shouts something incoherent and looks at me like I have just dropped from the sky.
‘Ah,’ he says on recognising me.
He stretches lazily and I spy a tiny bit of chest as his shirt rises. God, he is hairy all over. He gives his phone a cursory glance and looks curiously out of the window. The taxi bumps down an even narrower dirt road and finally stops. Alex yawns and strains to see out of the window.
‘This isn’t Siem Reap,’ he says casually.
It isn’t? I look out of the window and see nothing but darkness.
‘Right, let’s make the best of things, dump our luggage and get some sleep,’ says a bossy Bryant.
The driver helps with the luggage and leads us down a dark road to a building. Jamie could have booked a hotel nearer the town. I expect the rebels are more prominent there though. Best to be safe I suppose. I pull my jumper off and quickly put it back on when I realise the odour is most certainly mine. God it is so hot. We climb a flight of steps and finally enter the foyer of the hotel and any attempt to suppress my gasp is lost. This can’t be right. I turn to ask the taxi driver if we are in the right place but he is already climbing back into his car. Before I even have time to beckon to him he has gone in a cloud of dust. He has dumped us in the middle of nowhere.
Chapter Thirteen
I enter the dark inertia only to have Alex pull me back.
‘It’s respectful to remove ones shoes.’
I dutifully do so, not wishing to offend anyone. The reception area is a tiny room with deafening air conditioning. Two rickety chairs sit in one corner and a large sink in the other. The floor consists of rough bare boards with a thin scattering of straw. Ahead of us a wrinkled old man stands behind a counter. Tiny chicks scramble around my feet. Oh God, they are pecking me. I’m going to get rabies or something equally as bad. I am so tired I can’t remember what vaccinations I had. A fully grown hen makes clucking noises at me and I let out a tiny sob. Jamie said we were staying in a five star hotel. I can’t imagine what star hotel this is. Minus three I imagine. I want to protest but am speechless. The wrinkled man bows and smiles widely at us as he retrieves our luggage which the taxi driver had dumped outside. With perspiration running down his face, he fills two glasses with water from the rusty tap in the corner of the room, handing one to me and the other to Alex. I watch as Alex throws the liquid back eagerly and then talks in fluent Khmer to the man. What an arrogant arse. I am so thirsty but surely it is dangerous to drink the water here, even more so from a rusty tap. The old man thrusts the glass unmercifully at me, smiling the whole time. Please don’t let me get rabies and cholera my first day. I wonder if Toby will fly out for my funeral. I imagine they will have to bury me right away. They wouldn’t want a cholera epidemic. Toby would be devastated and write a moving obituary. How romantic. Alex will blame himself and vow never to return to Cambodia, and will dedicate his next book to me.
Alex’s weary voice pulls me out of my fantasy.
‘He wants to prepare some food for us. I have agreed. It would be disrespectful not to.’
He points to the water.
‘I’d drink that if I were you. For some reason they don’t have any bottled water here. I need to phone Jamie as soon as possible. This is not the right hotel, but I’m too tired to do anything now.’
‘But I’ll get cholera,’ I protest. ‘Surely the food here won’t be safe?’
‘I very much doubt you’ll get cholera.’
‘But I…’
‘
You are the most argumentative woman I have ever had the displeasure of meeting,’ he snaps, his eyes cold and hard.
I gulp and frantically think of a suitable response, but am too tired to do anything but cry. Bugger it. He blinks rapidly and shakes his head.
‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I’m very tired. I’ll contact Jamie. In the meantime let’s make the best of things. This chap here is very happy to have us to stay.’
He briefly touches my arm with his hand. I grudgingly accept his apology and swallow some of the water. The old man beckons us to follow him through a doorway and up a rickety ladder. I hesitate for a second and then gingerly make my way up. The last thing I can cope with is Alex snapping at me again. Just wait until I get my hands on Jamie. The man continues to talk incessantly to Alex who answers him fluently. I have to admit I am impressed, but I try not to let my admiration show. I cannot suppress my gasp, however, when we reach the top of the staircase I find myself standing in what can only be described as a run-down attic. It houses a bed with a sheet and pillow on it. The dusty floor is part covered with a coloured rug and in the far corner is a wash basin with a neatly folded towel at the side of it. I stare in horror at the bucket which sits beside it. What is that?
‘I see you have the en suite,’ smiles Alex and I fight a desire to push him back down the rickety steps. I attempt to hide my appalled look and with a permanent smile attached to my face I turn to face him.
‘Surely, he has a better room than this?’
‘Actually, this is his best room, and he is really proud to be giving it to you.’
Christ, I wouldn’t want the worst room in this joint. The old man grins and nods at me. Alex places his hands together and bows gratefully. I follow suit, feeling neither grateful nor happy. He then takes Alex through a beaded curtain and they disappear presumably to Alex’s room. I am having trouble holding back my tears. I am hungry having not eaten much on the plane. I had envisaged a lovely hotel, a hot bath and a dinner with a cool glass of white wine. Okay, I know wine is fattening, but I have barely eaten. Instead, I am contemplating drinking a glass of rust-infested water and a dinner made of God knows what. I have no malaria tablets because I am not supposed to be in a high-risk area but I somehow think I am. What on earth was Jamie thinking of, sending me to Cambodia with a man who seems to have no sense of responsibility whatsoever? I must speak with Jamie tomorrow and impress on him that I cannot possibly stay here with Alex Bryant. It is seriously putting my health at risk. I stare longingly at the water and then with eyes closed and a hand over my nose I throw it back and drink greedily. Oh God, please don’t let me die. Alex dumps my bags in the room and disappears again but not before promising to fetch me for the late dinner. I study the wash basin and am about to call Alex to ask where I go for the water when he returns with a bucket and empties it into the basin.
‘I’m going to wash downstairs. Dinner will be ready in about ten minutes. Cover yourself in insect repellent. You do have insect repellent don’t you?’
He is grinning at me again in that mocking way that I hate so much.
‘Of course,’ I snap.
I would rather be bitten to pieces and die an ugly and painful death than admit to not having any. As soon as he leaves I pull off my clothes and rummage through my toiletries for soap and body lotion. The water is cool and clean and within minutes I am feeling a hundred times better. From my suitcase I take one of my favourite summer dresses that I had bought from Jigsaw. I think it looks okay on me, but without a mirror I can’t be sure. I feel fine, so maybe I haven’t caught cholera after all, although I imagine it will be hours before I know for sure. Dinner is served in a small room off the foyer. Alex and I are seated opposite each other and an old woman, who I presume is the hotel owner’s wife, brings in plates of hot steaming food. It smells delicious but let’s face it, even poison can smell great. Alex piles rice onto a plate followed by small round pieces of meat.
‘It looks good. Try and eat some. They consider it an honour to be feeding us.’
‘Don’t tell me, even they know who you are. Your reputation as saviour of the world must precede you.’
What am I saying? He hasn’t even been rude and I am insulting him. He certainly brings out the worst in me. He gives me a quizzical look and bites into the meat. I fork some rice into my mouth.
‘The rice is good isn’t it? Aren’t you going to eat your meat?’ he challenges.
Why is he so horrid? He deliberately stabs two more pieces of meat and makes a big show of eating them. The old woman smiles at me as she pours what looks like wine into glasses. Thank God, I need something alcoholic. I spoon two pieces of meat into my mouth and chew slowly. Actually it isn’t too bad, a bit chewy but quite nice considering. In fact, it tastes very much like chicken and I suddenly remember the little chicks that were pecking around my feet earlier. Oh no, surely not. I point to the meat and look around for the chicks. They are nowhere to be seen.
‘The baby chicks and their mother, this isn’t them is it? We’re not eating the babies are we?’ I ask.
I feel sick.
‘Of course not, it’s water snake. What do you think of it?’ laughs Alex.
I think I am going to be ill is what I think. I wind my hand around my glass of wine and take a long gulp and almost fall off my chair.
‘It’s palm-sap wine. I’d go easy on that if I were you,’ he advises in that know-it-all voice.
‘You can go off people,’ I mumble.
He smiles, and I stupidly feel my heart do a little flutter. He does have a nice smile. I can’t deny that and he is very good looking. In fact he seems quite approachable at the moment and less of the macho man. His hair is slightly damp from his earlier wash and he has that fresh clean smell about him that is uniquely his. In fact, now I think about it, I don’t recall him ever smelling of aftershave, unlike Toby who pongs of it, so I find it quite amazing that I ever picked up the smell of ‘Trésor’ on him.
‘Does Penelope eat the food out here?’ I find myself asking, recalling her disgust at the party when I tucked into the turkey.
‘God no, she barely eats food in England. Hot countries aren’t her thing.’
I wonder what her thing is but say nothing. So, I am taken by surprise when he asks,
‘I take it a country like Cambodia isn’t Toby’s thing either? Or am I wrong and he has been here and just got his facts all wrong.’
Immediately, I find myself feeling defensive on Toby’s behalf.
‘He actually spends a great deal of time on his research, but no, he hasn’t been to Cambodia and neither have I come to that.’
He looks at me over his forkful of rice but doesn’t comment. I lower my eyes and fiddle with my meat. The dessert is much more palatable. We finish with water melon and sweet sticky rice, and I eat more than I should. Alex chats in a relaxed manner to the owner and doesn’t bother to translate. I sit drinking the palm-sap wine until I feel a little tipsy. By this time I had completely forgotten that my room is several rickety steps up a ladder, however, I am rudely reminded of that when Alex quips,
‘Right, I think you and I should go to bed.’
‘Not together I hope.’
God, did I say that? I have drunk too much. He either didn’t hear or conveniently ignores my comment. He thanks our host by bowing gratefully. I attempt to bow but am so giddy that I almost topple forward. Thankfully Alex escorts me up the ladder. After bidding me goodnight he disappears through the curtain to his own room. I fall onto the bed and take my Blackberry from my bag. It is late afternoon in England and even though it is the weekend I decide to phone Jamie. It clicks straight into voice mail.
‘Jamie, it’s me. Can you please phone me? The hotel is absolute crap. It has a bucket for the loo and Alex know-it-all Bryant is no help at all. He is so arrogant, and I am sure I will catch cholera, or something worse, and he couldn’t care less. Please phone me.’
I hang up and feel an overriding anger towards A
lex Bryant. After washing my face in cold water and giving my teeth a cursory brush I attempt to negotiate the toilet. Surely, Bryant could have explained to the owner that this wasn’t suitable and found another hotel? No, it’s no good. No matter how desperate my bladder is to be relieved I can’t go. I strain and strain but nothing happens. I visualise running water but still nothing happens.
‘Oh, come on, it’s just a bucket. You’ve done a wee in a bucket before,’ I reprimand myself. Although, actually, I have never had a wee in a bucket, I mean, why would I?
‘Bloody know-it-all,’ I say loudly. ‘Who does he think he is, talking in blooming Khmer? It’s water snake, what do you think? Up yours, fancy pants Bryant. If I get cholera you’ll be sorry. Honestly, all that stuff about knowing the customs and stuff, what a show off. I hate you Alex-know-it-all-Bryant. Maybe half the women in the country would go to bed with you but I certainly wouldn’t, not even if you asked me, so there, and you could at least have got me some air conditioning, you horrible man.’
My bladder, seemingly hearing my rant and obviously in agreement with me, decides to let my urine flow free. What a relief. At that moment there is a strange tapping sound and I practically fall off the bucket.
‘Who’s that, who’s there,’ I call frantically. Can’t I pee in peace, for Christ’s sake?
‘Alex. My room is literally the other side of the curtain. Can I come through?’
Oh no.
‘What do you mean?’
‘My room is next door,’ he whispers, peeking around the curtain just as I am pulling up my knickers.
‘Oops, sorry,’ he says, but I hear the amused tone in his voice.
‘Come on, what is wrong with you?’ I say angrily.
‘Apparently, I’m arrogant and a show off but I do have air-conditioning fans.’ He holds one out to me.
Of course, I now feel terrible.
‘Obviously, I didn’t really mean it when I said you were arrogant and a show off,’ I say, not meeting his eyes.
‘Of course not,’ he smiles.
