Forgotten: a truly gripping psychological thriller

by Heleyne Hammersley

  ‘What do you think was wrong with that woman in there?’ she asked, uncomfortable with the silence that was threatening to blanket them.

  ‘She seemed upset,’ he said. ‘Maybe someone died.’

  Kai was surprised that there was no interest in his voice. His concern for invalids seemed to extend no further than herself and her unusual predicament.

  ‘Don’t you care?’ she asked.

  He shrugged. ‘At the moment I’m worried about making sure you have a good time and that occupies most of my capacity for sympathy. Sorry if that sounds harsh but I’m not very good with illness and all that.’

  ‘So how come you’re here?’

  He turned to her grinning, ‘Because I’m pretty sure you’re not infectious.’

  She laughed and allowed him to persuade her away from the wall and out into the sunlight. It was strangely liberating to leave the car park and get away from anything connected with her recent past but Kai couldn’t help but look back after crossing the busy road. The hospital was still there – a reassuring white cliff rising above the sea of traffic.

  As Mark had promised, the streets were quiet and most people who passed seemed to barely see them, obviously too occupied with their own business to notice two more European tourists. Kai discovered a second function of her sunglasses – as well as keeping her from stumbling blindly into the path of the intermittent traffic they allowed her to study her surroundings, and passers-by, unobtrusively.

  The alleys that Mark led her down were narrow with high walls looming on either side. An occasional spill of bright pink hibiscus brightened up their path. Kai found herself fascinated by the Thai script that covered the posters on telegraph poles and gates and was even more interested to discover so much in English. It was like she’d crossed over into another world that was not only enchanting but surprisingly hospitable.

  Above the walls the sky was impossibly blue and cloudless, occasionally flecked with sparrows or a dove hurrying away to an unknown rendezvous. Bumble bees buzzed heavily among the blooms and, when she looked down, the road was alive with ants, busy with some endless task.

  ‘God, it’s so alive!’ she breathed, unable to believe that she’d been reluctant to leave her room and witness this. ‘It’s not like England in the winter.’

  ‘No,’ Mark agreed, ‘It’s more like…’

  The rest of his sentence hung in the air, unspoken, as they both realised what Kai had just said. She stopped and closed her eyes, willing herself on but all she saw was static and darkness, tinged red by the sunlight bleeding through her eyelids. ‘Mark,’ she said, trying to keep the rising panic out of her voice. ‘I don’t know where that came from. I don’t remember England in the winter but I know it’s not like this. How do I know that?’

  He studied her face, excited by her revelation. ‘You must remember; somewhere in your subconscious you know that this is foreign. Maybe it’s sort of like an instinct. Surely it’s a good sign.’

  ‘Who knows?’ she shrugged. ‘Maybe I read it somewhere, like in my journal or a magazine.’ She thought of Ellen and her prism of light. Had she really unlocked something in such a short space of time? Was there going to be a flood at some time in the near future? And was she really ready for it?

  ‘Is your journal helping?’ Mark asked.

  She shrugged. ‘Not much, not really. It’s too hard to relate to myself.’

  ‘Does it mention your past much, like what your job is at home, who your friends are, that sort of thing?’ He was studying her intently as though his need to know her past was even greater than her own.

  Kai wasn’t prepared to share her new understanding of herself with him, especially as his interest suddenly seemed too intense, his questions too personal.

  ‘I suppose when you write a diary it’s just for yourself,’ she said. ‘You know all the background, you understand all the obscure comments and references otherwise it would be like writing an autobiography. It’s all about the trip.’

  Mark looked disappointed and she felt a bit like she’d let him down by not sharing what she was starting to believe about herself, but she had to be certain of her memories and not deceived by shadows from her subconscious. And she had to be certain of Mark. She didn’t want to have her hopes turn to despair if his friendship was only a passing interest. She had resolved to give it time and that’s what she intended to do, despite her traitor mouth wanting to blurt out things that she didn’t understand. Time to move on.

  They walked in silence for a while, Kai trying to recapture that feeling of wonder at her surroundings.

  ‘How long have you been in Thailand?’ she asked trying to shake Mark out of his despondency.

  ‘Just over six months.’

  ‘You must like it here, to have stayed so long.’

  ‘It’s great,’ he responded with enthusiasm. ‘There’s nowhere quite like it. I love the religion, the weather, and the people are wonderful, really friendly and helpful.’ He looked around as though trying to find something to support his feelings and pointed at a brick structure, half visible over the top of a wall.

  ‘See that?’ She nodded

  ‘It’s a stupa. It marks a holy place. Thailand’s full of them, loads more than English churches. You can be wandering down the most awful side street and suddenly you’ll come across something like that, painted gold, just shining at you. It’s fantastic. The other day I was sitting in a café having dinner when a group of monks walked past. There must have been about a dozen, all in their saffron robes. It was like a parade or something.’

  Kai studied the brickwork. The stupa didn’t look fantastic. It looked decrepit and abandoned. She smiled at Mark’s eagerness and headed off along the alley.

  ‘Hey,’ he said, ‘sorry if I sound like some sort of fanatic. I just really like it here.’

  ‘No?’ she said feigning surprise.

  He grinned shyly. ‘Did I get a bit carried away?’

  ‘Just a bit. Still, it’s not a bad quality in a guide. Where are we going?’

  ‘I want to show you one of the oldest wats in town.’

  ‘What’s a wat?’ she asked, amused at the ridiculous sounding question. ‘I mentioned one in my diary. Is it a type of temple?’

  ‘It’s just what the Thais call temples,’ he shrugged. ‘Funny name I suppose.’

  They continued through the labyrinth of streets, Mark telling her which way to turn at every junction instead of leading the way. It was a nice gesture, making her feel more independent, more in charge. Eventually they stopped in front of a nondescript wooden gate and Mark turned the iron handle, stepping back to let Kai pass. For a moment she was frozen to the spot, it was like she’d stepped through a doorway in time and suddenly gone back hundreds of years.

  The door led into a dusty courtyard, its stone slabs cracked into crazy paving with grass clinging tenaciously to any hint of soil. They wandered across to the far end of the courtyard where an ancient temple sat, its roof supported by huge wooden pillars which bore the scars and scratches of time, dark markings like ancient writing. A short flight of steps and a lipped door guarded the inner sanctuary. Kai climbed the steps and peered in uncertainly.

  ‘It’s okay, you can go inside, just take your shoes off first.’

  She slipped off her sandals and sunglasses and stepped across the threshold on to the cool, polished stone inside. The smell of incense took her breath away for a second and she gasped, struggling for air. The feeling passed quickly and she stepped further away from the door, allowing her eyes to adjust to the gloom. The temple was surprisingly plain, the walls undecorated and the pillars painted a flat, dark red. At the far end, glowing faintly in the dim light from the doorway was a huge, golden Buddha, his hand raised in blessing and his mouth curved fractionally into a faint smile.

  ‘Wow,’ she whispered.

  ‘Quite something, isn’t he?’

  She simply stared, too intimidated by th
e sheer size of the figure to move. The flames from a few candles were multiplied into a bonfire of light by the reflection from the dazzling paint on the figure, so that his white eyes looked like they were staring out from a furnace. His expression was benign as though he was used to suffering and the blaze could have no power over him. He was invincible in his passivity.

  Kai felt suddenly saddened by what she had lost. The figure should have sparked memories of the other wonderful and improbable things she had seen on her travels, but there was nothing there, no echoes, no comparisons.

  ‘Over here,’ Mark said and she tore her eyes away from that benevolent gaze and joined Mark in a dim corner. ‘Look.’

  She saw a long bench covered in saucers and bowls. Each one contained food or drink. There were at least a dozen kinds of fruit, most of which she didn’t recognise, biscuits, crisps and shallow dishes of milk and water.

  ‘What’s it for?’

  Mark shrugged. ‘Offerings for the Buddha.’ He took out his wallet, selected a note and placed it between two cups of water. ‘Maybe he’ll protect us as well.’

  ‘From what?’

  ‘Who knows?’ he said with an odd smile. ‘There are a thousand temptations in Thailand; best to buy some insurance.’

  Kai explored the temple further but found nothing as impressive as the golden Buddha. Most of the walls were bare and the carpet was worn and dusty. It was as though all the care of the worshipers was devoted to the figure at the back of the temple and everything else was transient, unimportant. Fatigue made her drag her feet and she realised that she needed to sit down, badly.

  ‘Can we get out of here?’ she asked, catching up with Mark near the door.

  He studied her with concern. ‘Tired?’

  ‘A bit. I need to sit down. Is it okay to sit on the steps?

  ‘Should be,’ he said and, taking her arm, he led her gently outside. They sat in silence for a while until Kai confessed her exhaustion.

  ‘Better get you back then,’ Mark said brightly, standing up. There was no indication of disappointment in his tone. He held out his hand and she took it to pull herself up, stumbling slightly on the worn stone of the step.

  ‘We could take a taxi,’ Mark suggested.

  Kai shook her head. ‘I’d rather walk, just slowly. Okay?’

  ‘Fine by me,’ he grinned. ‘Why don’t you take my arm while we walk. It might help.’ He placed one hand in the pocket of his trousers and raised his eyebrows in encouragement.

  Hesitantly, Kai linked her arm through his and allowed him to lead her back through the gate but the contact felt awkward and forced and she was grateful when a car barrelled down the narrow alley, forcing them apart. Mark didn’t comment on the fact that she walked the rest of the way on her own, unsupported.

  October 28th – Dali

  I’m amazed that this is the most populous nation on earth. I feel like I’m living in a small village. Ever since I left Xiahe the western faces I’ve seen have been familiar and I got another shock today. I was posting a few cards home when I heard someone close by my ear say, ‘Hello, don’t I know you from somewhere?’ It was Josie. I hadn’t seen her since Xiahe, which in itself was quite surprising – I’d seen so many other people that I’d bumped into a couple of times over the last few weeks, especially in that awful bar in Chengdu. I was so surprised that I nearly hugged her, something in my subconscious telling me that such a familiar face must be a friend from home. Then it dawned on me and I pulled myself back, embarrassed by my sudden rush of misplaced emotion.

  ‘Where have you been?’ I asked. She’d told me that she was heading for Thailand at the end of October so I was a little surprised to find her deep in Yunnan province. She gave me a brief account of her journey – much the same as my own but the timing was different – then her reason for staying in China appeared. He was gorgeous. Over six feet of muscular, tanned Irishman. I could see why Thailand suddenly seemed less attractive to her – I’d have gone to Outer Mongolia for that!

  We caught up over tea in the library park, joining the groups of old men playing cards enthusiastically. They were great to watch, just like big kids. At one point there was some sort of disagreement and it nearly came to blows. One old guy who looked about eighty squared up to his younger (about seventy-five), red-faced opponent. The whole park seemed to go silent for a minute and I could feel myself holding my breath. But it came to nothing. They smiled and dealt another hand. It’s one of the things I’ll miss about China. I’ve got used to the play-fighting and short-lived squabbles. Some of the men are just like big kids really. I certainly find them less threatening than I did a couple of weeks ago. Now I hardly even bother to look up from whatever I’m doing when I hear shouting. It’s odd how my reactions have changed. At first I know I must have looked like a frightened kitten or a whipped puppy every time I heard or saw people arguing. The reaction was instinctive. Now, if I feel like that, I get angry with myself. It’s funny, after all the times I felt really broken and lost I now feel like something inside me is stronger than all that, always was stronger. I’m proud of that feeling, proud of my strength, proud of my survival. Even writing this I can feel the anger. Perhaps that’s not too healthy a place to be, but it’s better than being bruised and battered.

  Anyway, enough psychoanalysis (with the emphasis on the psycho!), Josie and the gorgeous Callum have booked a guide for tomorrow and they’re intending to walk in the mountains. I’d been hoping to do the same but my experience in Wutaishan put me off a bit, even with a guide, so I was delighted when they asked me along. I’m sure I’ll feel safe in a group and who knows, it might give me the confidence to try hiking on my own again.

  The rest of my day was pretty uneventful in comparison. I looked over the photos on my memory cards and planned the next leg of my trip. I managed to find a guidebook to Vietnam so I’ve got a much better idea what to expect at the border. It sounds hellish – bag searches and lots of questions – I just know I’m going to look like a hardened criminal who requires a strip-search. I’ve e-mailed the next stage of my itinerary to Penny. I feel safer knowing that someone at home has a good idea where I am and where I’m heading and I know I can trust Penny. She’s the one who finally gave me clarity for God’s sake: there’s no way she’d let me down. I miss her sometimes. I know if things had been different, if we’d had more time to plan, she’d have come with me. There was no way she could leave her job in the middle of term though and I was kind of glad about that. Much as I love her I needed to do this on my own. My mental state was so fragile that I would have willingly become dependent on someone else and, reliable as Penny is, I need her as an equal, a sounding board, not a bloody mother.

  So, that’s it, pizza for dinner and now I’m ready for an early night in preparation for my walk tomorrow.

  Oh, I must describe this hotel. It’s the poshest place in town and has the acoustics of a swimming pool. The rooms are built around a central covered courtyard and, of course, the public areas are all tiled. I was woken at 3am this morning by the couple in the next room having extremely noisy sex. Don’t they know the country’s already over-populated? Now the man on the other side has his TV up very loud and he’s on the phone, having to shout. God, I hope Vietnam’s quieter than China! Sometimes the noise makes my brain ache.

  October 29th – Dali

  I’m so glad I accepted Josie’s invitation. It was wonderful to get out of town and breathe some real fresh air instead of car exhaust and cooking fumes.

  We met our guide, whose name sounded like Alfie, outside one of the cafés on ‘Foreigners’ Street’. Apparently, he approached Callum two days ago, showed him lots of testimonials on the backs of postcards and Callum set this walk up.

  We set off out of town heading for a chairlift that I’d read about but hadn’t been able to find by myself. It was pretty obvious why when we turned down the fourth alley and crossed a patch of waste ground. It was so well hidden. I was panting and
sweaty when we got there but the other three didn’t seem to have felt the climb. I must be seriously unfit – too much sitting on buses and trains and not enough exercise. As we waited for the chairlift station to open I noticed huge spider webs, with ridiculously big inhabitants, hanging from telegraph wires and trees all around us. I’m not normally bothered by spiders but these were BIG. I asked our guide if they were poisonous.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Badly?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Do they bite many people?’

  ‘Yes.’

  His expression never changed and I couldn’t work out if he was taking the piss or not. From Callum’s snigger I realised which option he’d favoured.

  The chairlift ride was great. I thought I was going to have to share with Alfie but he let me have a seat all to myself. We were heading away from the town so I had to keep craning round to see it diminishing in the distance but, unfortunately, every time I turned round there was one of those bloody spiders dangling from a tree about a foot from my face. I was glad I was on my own as my startled whimpers were getting a bit embarrassing.

  Our first stop, at the top chairlift station, was a small temple nestling among the spider infested trees. It didn’t look very interesting and it was in bad need of some paint to freshen up its faded decoration but it had the most amazing view. I could see the whole town of Dali as it stretched across the flood plain towards Erhai lake, the road separating the town from the rice fields along the lakeshore and we could clearly make out columns of smoke rising lazily from the fields which had been recently harvested. Beyond the fields and the lake another stretch of mountains rises from nowhere. It was just like peering off a really high ledge, almost as though the temple was sticking out from the mountain, overhanging the plain below.

  The path around the side of the mountain turned out to be paved with huge stone slabs – a bit of a disappointment – which stayed perfectly, geometrically laid as the trail snaked in and out of gullies, always level, always at the same height above the town. It was so quiet, even the birds seemed to be whisper-whistling and there was very little breeze to disturb the greenery around us.