by Lynda Renham
So, Toby was right. They are getting married. Alex Bryant is nothing but a lying toad. He used me. How could I have been such a fool?
‘That was the studio, they want you there too, Libby. Alex said it was you who wrote the article,’ says Jamie, clicking off his phone.
Oh dear.
‘Toby won’t like this,’ Issy grins.
‘You can travel with Alex, it will be safer,’ mumbles Jonathan as he taps into his phone.
Issy is quite right. Toby won’t like this at all.
Issy
‘No one leaves,’ he growls.
Bollocks. What the hell is going on?
‘Now hold on a minute,’ I shout above the noise.
Jonathan puts a protective arm around my shoulders and with the other gently removes the policeman’s hand from Fenella’s arm.
‘We’re here for the broadcast. We are all here with Alex Bryant.’
I stare open-mouthed. I thought the broadcast was top secret, that no one knew about the Buddha only us. What is he doing? I pull myself from his comforting arm and turn to face him angrily.
‘What are you doing? I thought Alex said we were not to tell anyone he was going to broadcast.’
‘Alex announced it to a British national newspaper himself, about ten minutes ago. He knows what he’s doing.’
I look hungrily at the comforting arm I had just shrugged off. He smiles indulgently at me and wraps it back around me. Suddenly there is uproar and we all look in horror as the Buddha seems to wobble. People are pushing towards it. They are attempting to touch it or kiss it. The elephant seems to stumble. There is so much noise that I cannot hear myself think. I spy Libs through a gap in the curtain of the Buddha and go to wave but I am ushered inside.
‘Quick, come in,’ shouts a voice from the door of the studio.
Jonathan guides me through the doorway where I collide with Toby in his rush to get inside. Jonathan roughly pushes him to one side and gestures for Fenella, me and Penelope to hurry through. We are followed by Jamie and Edmund. Toby finally follows us. The doors are locked and bolted as soon as we are all inside.
‘Thank God for that,’ says Toby breathing heavily.
‘They’ll come back,’ advises Jonathan. ‘What was all that about anyway?’
Toby shrugs.
‘No idea.’
Penelope is demanding a jug of water.
‘Not from the tap either. Bring me bottled water and no ice.’
We are directed to a stiflingly hot and stuffy lounge. Penelope demands air conditioning and fans herself with a small silk fan.
‘I feel quite faint,’ she tells Toby.
In front of us are glass panels which look straight into the studio. There are three chairs and three microphones. A short Cambodian man is seated in one chair and is testing the equipment.
‘It’s so terribly exciting isn’t it?’ squeals Fenella fanning herself with Edmund’s handkerchief.
‘I sense trouble afoot,’ Edmund says dryly to Jonathan, while cocking his head towards the door.
‘I fear you may be right,’ agrees Jonathan.
Toby has removed his hat and looks more relaxed. Penelope leans across to say something to him and he laughs loudly, throwing his head back. My phone bleeps. It’s a text from Libs.
‘Marjorie Proops, I need you.’
I dash from the overpoweringly hot room and ask where the loo is. The dingy little room I am shown to is so dark I can barely see the small hole in the ground. I lock the door and phone Libs.
‘Oh Issy, I don’t know what to do,’ she cries.
‘What is it what’s wrong?’
She hiccups loudly and I move the phone from my ear.
‘I’m in love with Alex. He hasn’t said one word to me. How can I tell if he wants me? Toby has asked me to marry him and I just don’t know what to do. No one has ever asked me to marry them before. What shall I do? I’m not sure I love Toby any more. Oh God it is a mess.’
I go to sit on the toilet seat forgetting there isn’t one and fall straight to the floor with a thump.
‘Bollocks.’
Why does everyone ask me what they should do? How the hell do I know? Anyone would think I was Marjorie Proops. I’m probably the worst agony aunt on earth.
‘When did he…’ I begin and then realise she has been cut off.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The big Buddha we are travelling in has an odd smell that I can’t quite define. It is musty with an oriental fragrance. It reminds me of the herb garden back at the monastery. I find myself craving to be back there. It was so lovely then and Alex was attentive. Why did I have to spoil everything? I clutch my bag tightly to me and take a deep breath to try and calm my racing heart. I think I know how Princess Diana felt when she was bombarded by a mass of fans and photographers. If I only I looked just a little like Princess Diana, then I wouldn’t mind climbing out of the Buddha. Knowing that I look like Worzel Gummidge, however, makes the prospect of alighting a rather daunting one. Alex has not spoken the whole journey and the silence has been unbearable. I so wish he would say something. I lift my eyes to look at him and see he is tense and pensive. I find the noise and the banging on the outside of the Buddha rather alarming. We are supposed to be being transported in secret. Colonel Pong has roadblocks all around Siem Reap but not even Pong would stop a Buddha on a cart. It is the ‘wanted man’s vehicle of choice’ Jonathan had said. Several times it has rocked and tipped sideways as the cart negotiated the uneven roads. I look anxiously at Alex but he is lost in thought. I blow a stream of air into my fringe to help cool my flushed face. It must be thirty-five degrees in the Buddha. I feel like I am in a sauna and my thin cotton dress is not keeping me cool. My hair sticks to my neck and perspiration runs between my breasts. This is just marvellous isn’t it? Especially, as everyone is waiting at the studio for us. How typical, that when I have at last lost some weight and finally have a chance to be something of a celebrity, I have to step out of my chariot looking like I’ve stepped out of a sauna. I peek through the back curtain to see the mass of hysteria just feet away. It is one massive blur of people, tuk-tuks hooting like crazy and families huddled close on motorbikes. Good God, is that a pig, surely not? I pull the curtains and look at Alex who is on his phone. I retrieve mine from my handbag and text Issy. I try to get her advice on how to talk to Alex but my phone cuts out as soon as we start talking. I feel slightly sick, partly from the heat and also with fear. The Buddha seems to be wobbling so much that I am having difficulty keeping my bum on the small bench.
‘I will talk to you later, Pen,’ Alex is saying loudly. ‘We have a lot to discuss but I’m not prepared to do it now.’
What is he planning to talk to her about? Will he talk to her about me? Is he going to tell her that it is over between them? It won’t be because of me. I’m quite sure of that. He has barely looked at me and the only words that have passed his lips were ‘Hello’ when I arrived at the house. He has said nothing to me since. I feel so wretched. Penelope will no doubt look fabulous and greet us in the manner of Grace Kelly. Any hopes I had of alighting from this thing in the manner of Victoria Beckham have been well and truly dashed. What if there are photographers? Good Lord, I need to do something. If only I could pour myself a glass of Chardonnay, or even polish off a bottle. I never actually had dreams of appearing in Hello magazine but if I am going to I would much prefer to look sloshed than like a drowned rat. It is considered altogether rather cool to be photographed while sloshed when being a celebrity isn’t it? I swallow the next best thing, half the contents of a bottle of water. The Buddha rocks and I’m thrown off the bench. I give a little strangled cry and land at Alex’s feet. Was this what Madam Zigana had predicted? The front of my dress is now soaked from the water. It could only happen to me. His strong arms pull me up and plonk me beside him.
‘Almost there,’ he says gently.
‘I look like I’ve wet myself,’ I say miserably.
He gives me
a weak smile.
‘Toby has asked me to marry him,’ I say. God knows why I say that.
He scoffs.
‘I hope you will both be very happy. A romantic proposal was it?’
Why is he so hateful? I pull a hairbrush from my bag.
‘At least it was one,’ I say stiffly, throwing the brush back irritably when I realise my hair is too damp to brush.
I retrieve my perfume and spray myself with Rive Gauche, the familiar fragrance calming me.
‘I love that smell,’ he says softly and edges his hot body closer. I feel my heart dance, while my mind reels. Why doesn’t he reassure me that everything is okay with us? Why doesn’t he ask me not to marry Toby? Doesn’t he care? I feel inclined to become celibate when I get home. I shall lose even more weight and get my hair cut into one of those shaggy wild styles like Meg Ryan. I’ll go to the gym every day, well maybe every other day, and I’ll exfoliate so much that my skin will glow. I shall then just use men and discard them like old shoes. I’ll drive them mad sexually until they beg for release and…
‘Libby?’
I am pulled from my daydream. The Buddha has stopped and the noise from outside is deafening. People are shouting and bells are ringing. He looks deeply into my eyes, and if it wasn’t for the perspiration dripping into mine, I may have been able to have looked into his. I feel myself sway with the heat and my head is now thumping.
‘Look at me,’ I cry. ‘I look terrible and I am so scared.’
‘I have been assured that everything is safe. And as far as I am concerned you look fabulous,’ he says wiping the tears from my cheeks.
‘But…’
‘We should go.’
There is a knock and the Buddha shakes as the curtains are pulled aside. I feel myself tremble. Alex runs his fingers through his hair and stretches. It is all I can do to stop myself from throwing my hot sweaty body on top of his. The muscles in his arms seem to ripple and I feel a shiver of desire run through me.
‘Don’t be afraid. I won’t let anyone hurt you and whatever anyone else tells you, always remember, your writing is superb,’ he whispers.
‘Alex,’ I begin, but the noise of the crowd drowns out my voice. The sudden brightness dazzles us. The cool air on my face is so wonderful that I almost cry with relief. The people are going crazy, waving, cheering and surging towards us. The strong smell of sizzling pork reaches my nostrils and I feel myself sway slightly with overwhelming nausea.
‘Aleeeeex, Aleeeex,’ they are shouting and I shake my head in disbelief. The man truly is a hero. After climbing from the Buddha he reaches out a hand to grasp mine. Samnang is waiting to greet us and I am happy to see a friendly face.
‘The news went live about fifteen minutes ago,’ he informs us. ‘People have been going crazy ever since.’
People reach out to touch Alex. He climbs on a platform where a mike is handed to him. A loud screech emanates from it.
‘Come with me,’ shouts Samnang. ‘You have less than ten minutes.’
I tear my eyes from Alex and allow myself to be directed to a small washroom where I am able to straighten my hair. The crowd are silent and all I can hear is Alex’s commanding voice. I look at myself in the dirty cracked mirror of the equally dirty washroom and think what a ‘fantabulous’ place Cambodia is. I hurry back to Samnang who guides me to the studio. Alex joins us after a few minutes. Through a glass window I can see my mother with Toby, Penelope, Jamie and Jonathan. Toby looks worked up about something with his finger pointing at Alex. I turn my chair away from Toby and look at Alex fiddling with his headphones. I then realise what Toby is flapping about. I had totally forgotten all about the shirt. Oh dear.
Issy
Toby looks like he is about to have a fit. He seems unable to speak and everything that comes out of his mouth is garbled gibberish. He points at Alex with a shaking finger. Jesus, I just hope he doesn’t start another fight here in the studio. Libs’ pheromones must be in overdrive these days. Toby fights to find his voice and finally shrieks,
‘He’s wearing my shirt. The bastard nicked my shirt.’
We stare at Toby’s shirt which is straining against Alex’s firm muscular chest. It looks to me as if the buttons are about to pop off.
‘He has more muscle than you though doesn’t he Toby,’ I hear myself say. I bite my lip realising the last thing we need is for Toby to go into a real frenzy.
‘Where, I mean, who? What the…’ he stutters and we wait with bated breath.
‘How the fuck did he get my shirt?’ he whines. ‘Who the fuck does he think he is? First he tries to steal my girlfriend and then my bloody shirt. Christ, he’ll be stealing my fucking identity next.’
I don’t think so, Toby boy.
‘I’m quite sure he’s not trying to steal your girlfriend,’ says Penelope stiffly. To prove her point she blows a sickly kiss to Alex through the glass.
Toby paces up and down like a tiger, giving Alex an occasional two finger salute.
‘Oh, do grow up Toby,’ snaps Fenella.
He continues to glare at Alex.
‘I want him arrested when all this is over.’
A light goes on to tell us to be quiet. We all stare mesmerised as Alex is given his cue and the interview begins. Just as it does, the two men we had escaped from earlier enter the room and sit quietly at the back. Fenella grasps my hand tightly.
‘Oh dear,’ she mutters.
Libby on the other side of the glass looks equally concerned. The only person riveted by the interview and grinning from ear to ear is Jamie. The crowd outside are cheering. Alex is certainly the hero of the day.
‘The book will sell like wildfire now. I’ll need to set up more TV appearances when we get home. I might even see if I can get a book out with both Libby and Alex’s perspective on the Cambodian trip,’ Jamie gushes.
Meanwhile Penelope is giving Libs daggers. God, I will be so relieved to get home. As Alex’s interview finishes, the two men move menacingly towards us. Fenella waves frantically to Libby as though pleading for help but Libs has gone. What follows is like something out of a nightmare. I try to be calm but there is so much shouting and jabbering that I think I will go mad. More police arrive and everything goes crazy. Libs bursts in and demands to know what is happening. Someone mentions drugs. Oh bollocks. What if this is like Bangkok? Jesus, we will all get the death sentence. Fenella is shouting how this is frightful and that she will contact her MP when she gets home. Shit, how will we get lawyers here? Jonathan stands on a chair and shouts there has been a terrible mistake as I am dragged away. I wonder if I will ever see him again. We are handcuffed and thrown into the back of a van. Jonathan shouts that all will be okay but I don’t feel very confident. Libby is shell-shocked and nothing I say helps. Toby wraps her in his arms and she doesn’t push him away. Where the hell is Alex Bryant? Madam Zigana never mentioned this, and if she did it was bloody cryptic. I only hope I get home to tell her she spun us a load of bollocks.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I don’t think my Wonderbra is going to be much use in this situation. Talking of which, where the hell is Alex?
‘This is disgraceful,’ cries mother, rattling her handcuffs madly at the little hatch between us and the driver.
‘Do you hear me?’ she shouts. ‘Disgraceful! Just wait until my MP hears about this.’
Her coiffured hair is plastered to her face, and her foundation has streaked down onto her neck making her look like an Apache Indian. Oh dear. I hand her a Kleenex and point to her neck. She groans in despair and dabs at it.
‘That’s if you ever get out of here to write to your MP,’ wails Issy.
‘Kilimanjaro was never like this was it dear? They don’t have politics there.’
Father nods. Penelope sobs silently and Toby puts a comforting arm around her. Charming, shouldn’t he be comforting me? Although I have to say he was very comforting amidst that hideous uproar of earlier.
‘My wrists are swelling up,
look, they are all puffy,’ sobs Penelope. ‘It’s these handcuffs. I don’t do cheap metal, I’m allergic to cheap. Anything cheap brings me out in a rash.’
‘I’d demand the nine-carat, diamond-encrusted ones if I were you,’ scoffs Issy. ‘I’m sure they have a pair for celebrities and stuck-up bitches.’
I cringe.
‘Oh dear,’ mumbles mother.
‘Chin up, Fluff,’ cheers my father who is obviously in denial.
‘But drugs, I mean, holy shit,’ wails Issy. I wonder if I should slap her. I’m only hoping that Penelope doesn’t get hysterical and I’ll have to slap her too. If I slap her there is a good chance a cat fight may ensue and that would be all we need. I am seriously having doubts about Alex-won’t-let-anyone-hurt-you-Bryant. Where the hell is he?
‘Will you shut up Issy,’ hisses Jamie.
‘Is it like Bangkok here?’ she asks in a trembling voice. ‘Will they shoot us?’
Penelope shudders.
‘They need proof that we are involved in drugs and they don’t have any do they?’ I say sounding more confident than I feel.
‘I want to know where that poofy little boyfriend of yours has got to,’ growls Toby.
Jamie hangs his head.
‘Do you think he is involved in something?’ Issy asks.
‘I haven’t seen him since yesterday afternoon. He went to visit a friend in the city.’
‘Sodding shirt-lifter, he is probably going to get us life,’ yells Toby.
‘Jesus,’ I mumble.
‘It will be okay Libs, I’m sure it will,’ Toby says while moving from Penelope and putting a comforting arm around me.
I feel myself lean into him, although I am desperately missing Alex. Where did he go? More importantly why did he go? He must have seen what happened to us. If he’s been arrested too then there is no hope for us. There is absolutely no one to help us.
If I thought the van was bad, prison is even worse. We have our personal belongings taken from us and are frisked down by a mean-looking guard before being herded like cattle into our tiny cells. It’s nearly as bad as a flight with EasyJet. I swear there are cockroaches in our cells. Issy is thrown into a cell with my mother while Jamie, Toby and my father are thrown into another and, disaster of disasters I am thrown into one with Penelope who makes claim to the top bunk without even asking me.
