BENEATH THE WATERY MOON a psychological thriller with a stunning twist

by REAVLEY, BETSY

  Bangkok airport didn’t leave much to be desired. It was clean and clinical inside. Some of the international travellers wore facemasks, a hang up from the bird flu scare years earlier. I looked out of a wide tall window. We couldn’t see past the runway and pollution hung in the air, carrying a distinctive rotten smell. You could see the heat outside, from indoors. It wasn’t only the jet fuel that was responsible for the haze, but also the humidity. Our journey wasn’t done yet. We still had to get from Bangkok to the island where we were staying. After collecting our luggage and going through the rigorous obstacle of customs, we made our way out of the airport. Stepping out onto the tarmac in the evening darkness, we were blanketed by warm, humid air. Every bone in my body ached, and I tried to shift my feelings of discomfort.

  It was a chore locating the minibus that would take us to the resort, but eventually we found it and loaded our luggage on board. It was small and cramped, with few other passengers. Jude and I collapsed into our seats. The refreshing blast of the air-conditioning showered our skin as the minibus pulled away.

  We rattled down one of the fast roads through the city. Palm trees and exotic shrubs grew on the verges. Large advertising posters separated the two sides of the bypass. Parts of the metropolis were elaborate and ornate, others grotty and downtrodden. I noticed a large number of prostitutes hanging about in the shady areas. A fellow traveller told me that most of them were transvestites. I told him they made for very attractive women, and he replied that that was exactly the problem.

  The air conditioning and the noise it made eventually became irritating, but we were unable to turn the vents away from our faces. Jude and I just sat for a while, not speaking. Exhaustion gripped us. We listened to our iPods. Our palms were sweaty, but we remained holding hands. There wasn’t much to see. The land was black, and there were no streetlights on the roads. The movement of the bus rocked us like twins in a buggy, and we fell asleep. When I closed my eyes, my head was plagued with images of being tortured.

  I woke up suddenly, dripping wet with fear. The tiny dark-skinned male driver, who had deep wrinkles carved into his forehead, was screeching at us in an indecipherable language. We realized we had arrived at the small fishing port, our destination. Getting off the bus, stretching and cracking our stiff joints, we removed our bags from the boot, and I finally felt like I was on holiday.

  The busload of travellers stood near the shore looking out at the sparkling, tropical water. Jude started singing ‘I am sailing’ and a few passengers giggled to themselves. I felt the sun’s rays tingle on my pale skin. Jude was even paler, and I wondered which one of us would burn first. I suspected it might be him because of his ginger hair.

  The final leg of the journey took about forty minutes by boat. We passed incredible rock formations on the way. Large towers of dark, jagged rock protruded from the sea. I became the typical tourist, snapping away at the geographical marvels with my camera. Jude teased me about it, but I noticed other people doing the same, and carried on. The boat docked at our island. We took our luggage from the rocking vessel and let it drop like stones onto the soft white sand. By then it was seriously hot. The sun was high in the cloudless deep-blue sky. I admired the forest of tropical trees that covered everything past the beach. More rock formations jutted out of the landscape and were covered with the same thick green shrubbery. The sand was hot beneath my naked feet. I had stuffed my shoes into a bag. A petite, smiling woman welcomed us with a garland of orchids and we followed her to the hotel reception area. A young, local boy was summoned to deal with our bags. Jude and I felt guilty about this. He was probably only eleven or twelve years old but the woman insisted it was his job. Jude overruled her and picked up the two heaviest bags. The boy was left to carry the hand luggage and looked extremely grateful.

  We were led along a path that went through the tropical shrubs. We could hear geckos and tree frogs all around us. The strong sunlight shone through the tree above us, forming a spotted pattern on the ground. In the shade, the air was cool and it felt good. Long wooden condos were set back from the path, spread far apart from one another. Jude told me that he had booked one on the ocean, with its own veranda.

  The receptionist tried to sell us a tour of the island. She tempted us with the promise of a boat trip, followed by a 4x4 excursion. Jude and I agreed we might do one another day. By then we were desperate to get settled in and have a rest. It had been a long twenty-four hours. We were taken to the door of our hut and handed the key. The bellboy dropped the cases and quickly disappeared back off into the dense, green foliage. Jude opened the door and ushered me in.

  I was struck by the size of the room. It was airy and beautifully decorated. The large bed was simply covered with white linen sheets. Two small bedside tables sat on either side with a matching pair of ornate lamps. A chandelier hung from the centre of the high ceiling and the room smelled of light. A white sofa sat underneath the large window that looked out over the bay. A finely woven cream rug lay between the bed and a small fireplace. A plasma screen television was on the wall above it, and on the mantelpiece stood three pure white orchids.

  ‘It’s lovely, Jude!’ I went in to inspect the bathroom.

  Like the bedroom, it was simple but beautiful. Marble tiles covered the floor, and the walls were painted white. I noticed small speakers high on the walls. There was a rainforest shower on one side of the bathroom and on the other was a huge spa bath. I was in seventh heaven. Jude came in behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist.

  ‘I’m so glad you like it,’ he replied. ‘Right, time to get into our swimming things. I called room service and ordered breakfast. It’ll be here in about twenty minutes, just enough time for a quick dip.’

  ‘Sounds good to me,’ I said. I was determined to fight my exhaustion.

  We threw our bags onto the bed and rummaged through them. He pulled out his green patterned swimming shorts and I found my red and white striped bikini. We speedily changed and raced each other out of the room and down the sand into the calm sea. The sea was warm and crystal clear. I dived straight in. It was so refreshing that I instantly felt clean again. Jude sat in the shallows, stroking the water with the palm of his hand. I swam back over to him and he playfully pushed me under the water. We played in the water for a while until we saw a member of staff approaching our door, carrying a tray with our breakfast.

  We left the ocean and made our way back to the cabin. Our tray had been placed on a small table on the veranda. Assorted exotic fruits cut into pieces were laid out on one plate and on the other was a pile of fresh breakfast pancakes. Two small glass jugs with chocolate sauce and maple syrup stood next to them and the fuchsia head of an orchid lay on top of the linen napkins for decorative effect. A pot of steaming coffee stood next to two large glasses of freshly squeezed orange juice. The smell of fruit and sugar represented the sunshine beautifully.

  We were famished, and it didn’t take us long to devour what was on both plates. The fruit was ripe and sweet and the pancakes were warm. Afterwards we sat back, bellies full, to admire the view. It was now midday and the heat was growing by the minute. Jude suggested that we went indoors for a nap and I followed him in. He adjusted the air conditioning and lay down on the bed. I crawled in next to him, now fully dry but still in my bikini. I pulled the crisp sheet up over my waist. He put his arm around me, and we promptly fell asleep.

  * * *

  A bucket of icy water is thrown over my naked body. I come to with a jolt and hit the bottom of my spine on the wooden bed slats. The water drips down my arms and legs, and sits in a small, icy puddle on my stomach. Before I have a chance to identify where the water came from, I hear the door to the cellar being closed. My captor has hit and run, and I am left in the dark, still not able to put a face to my terror. My teeth chatter and my body quivers uncontrollably. I moan and beg for the nightmare to end.

  * * *

  At about half past three, I woke up. My teeth chattered like a child’s wind-up toy
. Jude was sitting upright reading a book. He said he hadn’t wanted to wake me. I thanked him and suggested that we go out and explore the coast. He said he wanted a shower first. I got up and moved towards the bathroom to get it ready for him.

  I turned the knob until a lukewarm jet was flowing, and put my fingers in the water for a moment. Jude appeared behind me and pulled at the string that fastened my bikini. Then he kissed my shoulders and pushed me forward into the shower. His mouth was warm on my skin. I allowed my bikini to fall to my feet, and we stood under the waterfall, exploring each other’s bodies.

  An hour or so later, we went back outside into the baking heat. As we wandered hand in hand along the shore, the hungry, lapping waves brushed against our bare feet. Before long, we came to a bustling part of the beach. Tourists and locals were sprawled out on various coloured towels, or on plastic chairs under straw umbrellas. A little way out to sea, small anchored boats bobbed with the tide.

  We meandered past the lazing sun worshippers and headed towards a bar on the edge of the beach. The hum of familiar pop music floated on the light breeze coming off the ocean. We sat down at one of the cramped tables, and picked up a menu. The entire thing was in English and the bar was even called ‘Henrys’. Having already eaten a large breakfast, we ordered a small portion of chips and a green salad to share. Jude got himself a beer, and I had a rum and coke. I watched the Australian barman pour a very generous quantity of rum into the glass, filling it a third of the way. Jude explained that the Thais didn’t use European measures. I made a mental note to remember that so as to avoid getting more drunk than normal. For some reason, I was still shivering, and I felt very strange.

  We watched as a fat little boy stood crying in the shallows while his mother was at the bar, shouting at him to get out of the water. She wore tight denim shorts and a red T-shirt, with her big gold double-hoop earrings jangling as she became more incensed. Eventually the toddler stopped sobbing and obeyed his mother. He wobbled up the sand, stopping to smile at a young European couple lying on a towel. A muscular blond man in orange swimming trunks handed him a beach ball and the child’s face lit up as he grabbed it and headed off, brandishing the prize for his mother to see. Jude and I laughed. We were sure the man hadn’t intended on giving it away altogether.

  I should have been so happy there, but I couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling. It was a cross between travel sickness and a hangover. But I wasn’t ill, and I hadn’t been drinking heavily. In the back of my mind I felt something was wrong.

  After we’d finished our drinks and picked at the chips, I suggested that we leave the bar and explore the town. Jude paid the bill and we set off. The roads were small and dusty. Very few cars passed us. The popular form of transport seemed to be the moped. Modest, higgledy-piggledy buildings lined the streets. Most of them had wooden shutters that were closed over the windows, preventing the heat from getting in. Jude marched on ahead and I ambled along, taking in our surroundings. There were few shops, although there were plenty of small restaurants, hostels, and hotels. Some boasted that they sold English beer. The sunshine was foreign but the resources were not. As we walked on, we found ourselves in a large open space. There were lines of deserted stalls. We had stumbled on the market place.

  On the far side was a small shop that sold souvenirs. I was drawn over to a rack of bright silk scarves, which leaned against the front of the shop. Comedy postcards were also stacked up outside. A strong smell of incense wafted out from indoors. I suggested that we buy some supplies to stock the mini fridge with. He agreed that it was a good idea, and we went looking for a convenience store.

  Ten minutes later, we were lost. We couldn’t even be sure we were headed in the direction of the seashore, but we were unfazed. It was only late afternoon, and we had plenty of time before darkness fell. We were both dripping with sweat; it streamed down our backs. It would take us a while to get used to the humidity.

  Finally we found ourselves on a familiar street. It was bustling with people making their way back to their houses and hotels, with towels and beach gear in tow. I spotted a small shop and dragged Jude in with me. It was cramped with rows of shelves, all holding snacks, dried food, and toiletries. A small elderly woman with grey hair pulled back into a bun stood in the back behind a till, watching us with beady eyes. I scoured the shelves, removing bits and pieces, and handing them to Jude, who had become my human shopping basket. His arms were loaded with large bags of salted crisps, bars of unfamiliar chocolate, bottles of water, and juice. As he juggled the contents in his arms, I fiddled about in my pocket for some money. He hurried over to the checkout and dropped the pile onto the desk. The woman reached for a plastic bag and entered the amount for each item before dropping it into the unmarked blue bag. I stood behind Jude, resting my chin on his shoulder, watching the total slowly ringing up.

  ‘Thousand.’ The woman pointed at my hand with a sunbeaten, crooked finger. I handed over the money and Jude gathered our shopping.

  It took about a quarter of an hour, walking along the beach, to get back to our room. Jude pulled the key from his pocket, it gleamed in the light, and ushered me in. He threw the shopping on the bed and then collapsed down himself.

  ‘Ah, air conditioning,’ he sighed, closing his eyes and allowing the cool air to flow over him.

  By eight o’clock the sun was starting its descent in the sky. I got up as the blue sky began to turn, and wandered out onto the veranda to watch the sunset. I sat on a small wooden chair as the colours changed. The sky faded from blue to purple, to pink, finally settling into apricot. The low sun was huge and rested above the clean ocean. Birds flew by, making their way home to roost for the night. A stray dog pottered about on the sand looking for scraps. I went indoors to fetch some crisps to offer the flea bitten mutt and Jude came out with me. We threw food to the dog and watched the sun sink below the horizon.

  After darkness had fallen and the stars begun to appear, we changed our clothes and headed out for a late supper. The walk along the torch-lit path through the complex was romantic. Bugs danced around the lights and crickets chirped in the trees.

  We walked slowly, listening to the nocturnal sounds. I could feel the night on my skin. It was amazing how quickly our complexions had turned from pasty white to a light shade of pink. My shoulders were a bit sore and his nose had a healthy red glow. We chuckled at our Britishness.

  We went to the hotel restaurant, deciding to save painting the town red for another night. It was nearly ten o’clock when we entered the hotel lobby. A couple of people were checking in at reception, as we made our way past a selection of large potted plants, and into the restaurant. Everything was painted white. Each table had a small candle on it and the room glowed with a gentle light. A young, feminine-looking man in a white shirt with a black waistcoat and tie, showed us to a small table near the glass wall that overlooked the bay. Until then I hadn’t realized that the restaurant and lobby stood on a slight hill above the beachfront. I sat down and stared out into the night. I had never seen so many stars in the sky before. Without pollution, the world was a different place.

  I was quickly brought back to earth by the snap of Jude’s fingers.

  ‘I thought I’d lost you for a minute.’

  ‘Sorry, sorry. What does the menu look like?’

  He poured himself a large glass of cold water from a jug on the table and watched the water flow. ‘The menu looks ok.’

  It was some time before our food was served. We chatted happily about what we planned to do on our holiday.

  He saw the love in my eyes that night, more clearly than he’d done before. It was the first time he really trusted that I was really in love with him. He stopped mid-sentence and smiled. His lips parted as he began to say something, but I stopped him.

  ‘Just promise me you won’t forget,’ I half whispered. ‘Whatever happens remember this for what it is.’

  He shook his head and looked out over the dark sea.

  ‘Don’t be
like that. Don’t spoil it by talking about the end, or any of that bullshit. You’re getting tragic on me and there’s no need. We’ll be back here for our fiftieth anniversary, you mark my words.’

  I let out a throaty laugh, and he turned to face me.

  ‘You think about stuff like that? Have plans for us do you?’ I mocked.

  ‘This is just the beginning, my girl.’ He cocked one eyebrow and sipped his drink.

  ‘We’ll see,’ I replied.

  A look of frustrated anger swept across his face.

  ‘Why do you have to be so fucking pessimistic all the time? Bloody hell, can’t you just enjoy this? You’re so busy thinking it’s all going to go wrong and I’m going to be a disappointment, that you’re missing it. This is it, right. Take your head out of your arse. You know me, remember?’ He slammed his glass down on the table, so hard that some of the water jumped out and splashed onto his hand.

  ‘Shit!’ Jude shook the liquid off his fingers. I sat back and looked at him in shock. I was speechless.

  ‘Jesus, just let’s enjoy dinner, ok?’ He wiped his hand with his napkin and began to calm down.

  ‘Do you know what Jude,’ I replied with disgust, ‘Fuck you. Enjoy your dinner, I’ve lost my appetite.’

  And with that, I pushed my chair back and walked out of the restaurant, leaving him behind and paying no attention to the nosey eavesdroppers who had been listening to our argument and now watched as I stormed out. Their faces suddenly looked like melting gargoyles.

  My heart was racing as I hurried through the reception area. Outside, I broke into a run. I scrambled along the path and almost knocked into a room-service waiter holding an empty tray. Tears streamed down my face. I was overcome with embarrassment and anger. Then I came to the water. I removed my flip-flops and wandered along the sand barefoot. The hotel beach was deserted, except for a small bonfire that burned in the distance. I took a few more steps towards the sea before crumpling in a heap on the sand, which still gave off some heat. I felt like a fool. I was mortified that he thought I was determined to fuck it all up. A million doubts filled my head.