by Lynda Renham
‘I’ll have you all fired, do you hear me? Do you have any idea who I am?’ Penelope yells while shaking the prison bars.
‘Shit, shit, my nail,’ she sobs, flapping her hand around.
‘I don’t imagine nail files are essential in here,’ shouts Issy. ‘Although I’m sure once they realise who you are, they will send a manicurist in.’
Penelope flops onto the hard mattress.
‘Oh God, did you see things moving on there,’ she screams while pointing at my mattress.
I find myself staring at her enviously. How does she manage to look so good? Here we all are in some flea-infested pit and even my mother is looking the worse for wear but Penelope just seems to come up smelling of roses. Now I come to think about it, isn’t that a bit like Alex? No matter what the situation he always manages to look fabulous. I always manage to look like I have just dragged myself out of bed the morning after a wild night of partying. Toby is quite right. They are in a completely different league to us
‘I’m sure we won’t be in here too long,’ says Penelope, seeming calmer. ‘After all, Jonathan will contact the British Embassy and they will have us out in no time.’
She couldn’t have been more wrong. Hours pass and what small amount of light there was coming through the tiny window quickly diminishes. Dim lights illuminate our new home. Our cells are next to each other, in a line off a corridor like carriages in an old-fashioned train. It is quiet, apart from a dripping noise and although we can’t see the other cells we can hear each other as clear as anything.
‘We’re going to die in here,’ Issy sobs.
We all go silent at the sound of rattling keys and slow footsteps. A guard pushes two bowls of rice and some very suspicious looking meat into our cell. But most appealing of all are the bottles of water.
‘Don’t eat it,’ yells Toby as if the food has been laced with arsenic. ‘And whatever you do, don’t drink the fucking water.’
‘I’ve been bitten,’ moans Jamie.
A bang from outside makes me jump, sending the rice flying off my plate into Penelope’s lap.
‘You did that on purpose,’ she hisses.
‘I did not.’
‘Oh my God, was that a firing squad. Oh Jesus, they are going to shoot us. They do that to drug dealers don’t they?’ groans Issy.
‘It came from the street outside. I don’t think they have public executions any more,’ says Toby, who I imagine is gagging at the sight of the rice.
‘How do you know?’ hisses Issy. ‘They are probably going to make an example of us. The whole world will watch our execution.’
‘Do you think?’ asks Penelope suddenly brightening up.
I stare at her. Jesus, is she bizarre or what? She’ll be asking for a hair stylist next.
‘It was probably a car backfiring,’ says Toby.
‘Are you sure?’ squeals Issy.
Good God. I don’t know how much more I can take. In fact, much more of this and I will shoot Issy myself.
‘This food has been poisoned, I’m sure of it,’ whines Toby.
‘I read a book once about a prison in Asia and how they got people to confess to smuggling drugs. It was…’ begins mother, in a haunting voice.
‘Don’t tell us, please don’t tell us,’ pleads Issy.
‘I’m going to drink the water,’ I announce. I am unable to control my thirst any longer.
‘No,’ shouts Toby. ‘Don’t drink that.’
I gulp down half the contents of the bottle.
‘Shit, Libby, do you have a death wish or something?’ mumbles Jamie.
‘You can shut your homosexual mouth,’ Toby shouts.
God, I hope I die soon if things are going to continue like this.
‘You’re so attractive when you’re angry,’ purrs Jamie.
‘You bloody keep away from me, you fucking pervert,’ Toby screams.
Penelope slides down from her bunk and onto mine, sending the rest of the water down the front of my dress. Damn, that’s all I need. At least I can’t drink any more I suppose. Maybe in a kind of warped way she has saved my life.
‘Did you see that? Did you? There is definitely something alive in my bed. Christ, I have never been so degraded.’ She trembles in front of me. No sign of an apology I notice.
‘Well, you have now, sweetie,’ calls Issy.
‘Will you shut up,’ Penelope screams.
I actually find myself feeling sorry for her. I flop onto my bed, not caring if there are snakes, spiders or cockroaches in it. It feels late. I can hear my father snoring and mother’s gentle breathing. A surge of guilt overwhelms me when I realise it is because of me that everyone is here. I may well be the cause of them facing a firing squad. God, it doesn’t bear thinking about.
‘Alex would be appalled if he could see me like this,’ Penelope moans while fidgeting on my bed.
‘Never mind Alex,’ Issy titters. ‘We’re appalled at having to be with you like this.’
I fight back my giggle but she hears me.
‘You do realise that you will never work with Alex again. One thing he can’t stand is disorganisation and let’s face it you’re not exactly Miss Organised are you?’
I flap a mosquito from my face and wave it in her direction. After all, the least I can do is share.
‘He happens to be the last person on earth I would agree to work with after this,’ I mumble.
I’m rather pleased to see she is looking quite drab now. Her make-up is beginning to fade and her skin is drying out from the heat. She looks ordinary for a change. Not as ordinary as me, you understand but ordinary enough. She fiddles with her broken nail and looks about to cry.
‘Are you feeling okay Libs,’ calls Toby. ‘That water isn’t making you feel funny is it?’
‘I’m fine.’
‘I love you Libby. I’ll get us out of here.’
‘And what will you do?’ asks mother sleepily in a scathing voice. ‘Bombard them with swear words.’
‘You may scoff. But when Libby and I are married I’ll show you what kind of man I am.’
‘Oh, won’t that be revealing, Fenella,’ laughs Issy.
‘And you can shut the fuck up. Don’t for one minute think you’re getting a bloody invite.’
If only I could go for a walk.
‘You think I don’t know that you have been making eyes at my fiancé.’ Penelope mutters under her breath.
Now what?
‘I have not,’ I protest, but my blush gives me away.
She laughs and slaps her cheek as the mosquito lands on it. I wriggle uncomfortably in my wet dress. I really am not in the mood for a confrontation with her.
‘Alex would never look at someone your size in a million years…’
‘I’m not that fat,’ I say defensively, while hating myself for doing so.
She runs her fingers through her hair like a comb.
‘Can I tell you something Libby? By the way, is that short for a proper name? Only I always thought Libby was the make of some kind of milk,’ she says condescendingly.
‘Elizabeth,’ calls my mother, who obviously has bionic ears. ‘Rather that than a name of a 1960s Thunderbirds puppet.’
Penelope gasps.
‘Let me just advise you, Libby. Alex leads a very high-profile life and he needs a high-profile woman to go with that. When I say high profile, I mean someone that can cope with high maintenance and someone who oozes confidence.’
She gives me a cursory but critical look.
‘Just look at you,’ she hisses viciously. ‘You look like something the cat dragged in.’
I fidget under her stare. Did I actually feel sorry for her a little while ago? I cannot think of anything to say. The worst part is that I happen to agree with her. I am just so rubbish and why I ever thought I could be a match for Alex is beyond me.
‘Alex has strange ideas about relationships. He doesn’t realise that if it hadn’t been for me he wouldn’t be where he is now. I
’m the one the press want to photograph. It’s important who he has on his arm. Very important,’ she says raising her voice on the last two words.
Issy lets out a loud tut.
‘If that’s right, why didn’t he invite you to the safe house?’ I whisper.
She scoffs.
‘What makes you think he didn’t? Don’t be so naïve, Elizabeth. Let’s face it darling, I’m premier league, while you’re barely third division.’
I’m struck dumb.
‘He needs a successful woman on his arm darling, not someone who can’t even meet the challenge of a diet.’
Oh, that was below the belt wasn’t it? She climbs back onto her bed and I find myself hoping she may get bitten by a cockroach. Yes, I truly believe at this very moment I could gladly watch her eaten alive. What does that say about me? Of course, she is absolutely right. I was stupid to even consider that Alex and I could be a couple. Finally I find Mr Right and I’m all wrong.
‘Are you still feeling okay, Libs?’ calls Toby.
No, I feel bloody suicidal.
‘I’m fine,’ I answer, while wishing the water would hurry up and poison me.
Jamie rattles the bars of his cell making us all jump.
‘I want a lawyer,’ he screams.
‘For Christ’s sake, Jamie,’ shushes Issy.
‘We’re entitled to a fucking lawyer,’ he repeats.
He is quite right, of course.
‘Let’s hope your boyfriend has arranged one,’ says Toby nastily.
‘God, what I wouldn’t do for a shower,’ moans Issy.
‘You don’t know it was Philippe,’ barks Jamie.
‘Of course it bloody was,’ snaps Toby. ‘Else he would be banged up with the rest of us. You can’t trust fags.’
‘Toby, stop it,’ I yell.
‘At ease chaps, frayed tempers and all that,’ pipes up my dad and everyone goes silent.
That’s the thing with not speaking very often. When you do, everyone stops and waits with bated breath for the next words of wisdom. Except in my father’s case they don’t come. I sigh.
Don’t you just hate mistakes? I mean, I don’t mind when they are small mistakes but honestly when they are life or death ones it really is not good enough is it. Obviously this is one big mistake. I came to Cambodia to launch a book for goodness sake, and now I’m languishing in some hell hole of a prison. It will be New Year’s Eve soon and I feel sure that entertainment will be sparse here in prison. I am dying for the loo. I must not think about the toilet. Not that I imagine they actually have one in here as such. A rattling of keys breaks into my thoughts.
‘Your lawyer,’ announces the guard and a short, chubby, sweating man walks towards us.
We look wide-eyed at him. His Panama hat sits lopsidedly on his head and there are stains on his shirt. My heart sinks. He takes us all in with one quick glance.
‘Monty Snograss at your disposal as it were. Pleased to meet you. You all look very dandy, treating you well are they?’
We all look dandy? He obviously needs glasses. It is late in the day and he is half cut. A born-again alcoholic, just what we don’t need.
‘For fuck’s sake,’ moans Toby.
‘Monty Snograss?’ echoes Issy. ‘Dear God, please tell me someone is playing a joke on us?’
‘Are you drunk, young man?’ asks mother.
Young man, has mother suddenly lost her sight as well?
‘Mother put on your glasses,’ I say wearily.
‘It’s the heat,’ he explains stumbling towards her. ‘You have to keep drinking, so to speak.’
He removes his hat to reveal a shiny bald head.
‘Preferably water,’ I say
‘And not from the sodding tap,’ adds Toby.
Monty Snograss whips a flask from his hip pocket and flops onto a chair in the corridor.
‘I have excellent news,’ he says taking a swig from the flask.
‘Thank God. When can we go home?’ asks Issy with a relieved sigh.
The thought of a cold English winter is suddenly the most wonderful prospect. I just want to get out of this hot and humid country and back into my lovely cold cottage and soft cosy bed.
‘Home, good God, I’m not that good as it were. However, I am brilliant if I say so myself. I pulled you fifteen years. They were all for shooting you so to speak.’
What! Oh my God. But they’re sodding Buddhists aren’t they?
‘Oh fuck,’ cries Issy and I hear a thump.
‘Is she okay?’ I call.
‘She’s fainted,’ replies mother who promptly bursts into tears.
Penelope grabs me roughly by the shoulders and shakes me like a rag doll.
‘This is entirely your fault. Do something and get us out of here.’
The shaking has a bad effect on my bladder. I push her more violently than I planned and she lands with a crash onto my bed.
‘I can’t stay here for fifteen fucking years,’ screams Jamie.
‘Bad show,’ mumbles my father.
‘I’ll have this country annihilated,’ shouts Toby.
‘Shoot us? What the hell do you mean fifteen years? We can’t stay here for fifteen years. I’m almost thirty… Oh God, you have to get us a lawyer,’ I whimper.
‘I am a lawyer, so to speak.’
What is that supposed to mean?
‘But we haven’t had a trial yet,’ says mother.
I slump onto the bed.
‘Ah, trial was denied. Drugs and helping the rebels, you see. Tricky one is that, so to speak.’
Snograss hesitates and then adds solemnly, ‘As it were.’ I’m beginning to wonder if ‘So to speak’ and ‘as it were’ are some kind of code.
‘But I wasn’t helping them, she was,’ Penelope snivels while pointing at me.
‘Don’t blame all this on my daughter,’ yells mother.
Snograss pushes a tissue through the bars.
‘I’m afraid sentencing has been made, best to make the best of a bad job as it were.’
‘But we’re not criminals,’ says Jamie.
‘No, of course not,’ he says with a smirk.
‘What the fuck does that mean?’ asks Toby.
God, it comes to something when your own solicitor doesn’t believe you.
‘They surely can’t deny us a trial,’ I say.
‘You can appeal but I’ve never heard anyone succeeding with that as it were.’
‘But what about Alex Bryant, he can tell you I wasn’t helping the rebels?’
He shakes his head and swallows more liquid from the flask.
‘Ah, yes, couldn’t trace him. He flew the nest so to speak. It’s not unusual.’
‘He wouldn’t do that,’ says Penelope.
‘Seems he has,’ snaps Toby.
I really don’t believe Alex has flown the nest. He wouldn’t just abandon us. If I don’t agree with anything else Penelope says, I do agree with that.
‘Things could be worse,’ sniffs Snograss and sneezes into a tissue.
‘Worse,’ I cry, ‘how could it be worse?’
‘Firing squad, that’s what he means. I told you they would shoot us. I can’t stay here for fifteen years. We will all leave looking like old hags,’ sobs Issy.
‘Speak for yourself darling,’ calls Penelope.
‘Now, look here Snograss, there must be something you can do,’ says my reasonable father.
Snograss stands up, wobbles and falls back down again. I try to hold back my tears.
‘I’ve done my damnedest, old chap.’
I start to cry.
‘Chin up, old girl. The time will fly by. Do you need anything? Malaria tablets, loo roll, ciggies, Gideon’s Bible?’
I want to die.
‘Oh God,’ moans Issy.
‘Bible it is then.’
How the hell did I get here? Seriously I am just a girl who likes making cakes and who struggles with her weight.
‘We’re doomed,’ sobs Issy.
My bladder screams at me and I slide down the wall. We are doomed indeed. Just when I seriously thought things couldn’t get any worse.
‘Jonathan will get us out. He is probably…’ begins Issy.
‘Oh, he’s being held by the army authorities. Didn’t you know?’ says Snograss calmly. ‘I’ll pop back in a few hours with essentials. I may have some news on old Johnnie for you then. In the meantime, keep your pecker up.’
He sways to the door and is gone.
‘Don’t even think of getting your pecker up,’ Toby snaps at Jamie.
It looks like we’re done for.
Alex
The air is full of smoke. The air-con has broken and I feel like I am banging my head against a wall.
‘There is nothing we can do to help you Mr Bryant. The best suggestion I can make is that you leave the country as soon as possible.’
‘There is no way I am leaving the country while my friends wallow in one of your prisons. Now, I suggest we find ways to sort this out.’
I’m tired, hot and extremely fed up. The head of police lights another cigarette and I look at Samnang who is getting more uncomfortable by the minute.
‘It really is not sensible for you to stay in the city, Alex.’
Don’t these fools understand anything I say? I’m speaking in Khmer for God’s sake.
‘After all, this has nothing to do with you,’ asserts the police officer.
‘You’ve arrested my colleagues without any evidence and one of the women you have in custody happens to be someone I am very close to and you say this has nothing to do with me?’ I snap more angrily than I intended.
‘Won’t you please sit down, Mr Bryant. It’s extremely hot in here I know. I apologise for the lack of air conditioning. I hope you are not finding it too uncomfortable. Our facilities are not as good as the TV studio I’m afraid.’
Samnang coughs nervously.
‘We should get you to the airport, Alex, or a hotel at least. It really isn’t sensible for you to stay in the city,’ he says again.
