The sales assistant didn’t seem in the least surprised by the instruction, placing Kai’s old clothes under the counter before writing the price of the new ones on a notepad. She turned it round so Kai could read the amount, three hundred baht. A quick calculation, based on the tourist rates she’d seen posted in the hotel reception, told Kai that the clothes were about eight dollars, a bargain. She dug in the pocket of her new trousers for the money that Mark had given her the previous day and then her gaze was drawn to a display of small bags and wallets woven from brightly coloured thread and scraps of cloth. Impulsively she chose a large shoulder bag and a wallet to go with her new outfit.
An hour later and Kai’s new bag bulged with purchases. More trousers and T-shirts, a book, The Blind Assassin by Margaret Atwood because the name had seemed familiar and a pair of sunglasses. Now she felt like every other westerner she passed, comfortable and anonymous. And rich. She’d managed to change her fifty dollars for over two thousand baht which she’d placed carefully in her new wallet, enjoying the feeling of spreading the notes out into the different compartments. Her own money.
For the first time in days she found that she was hungry, ravenous in fact. A small café offered ‘Thai food in an Enlish menu’ tempting her inside with promises of ‘red curri’ and ‘fish caks’. Kai settled herself at a corner table, ordered fish curry, rice and a Coke and opened her new book. She didn’t really feel like reading but being occupied made her feel less conspicuous and it was a good disguise, allowing her to look self-absorbed while studying her fellow diners.
The café seemed to cater mainly for westerners, who huddled round the tables in couples and small groups. There were no mixed couples; there were no Thai people at all except for the staff who delivered food with friendly efficiency. The customers were all dressed in a similar style to Kai – cool cottons in bright colours, sandals and, of course, sunglasses nestling next to plates and glasses. Kai began to understand why travelling had appealed to her other self – the relaxation, the sense of nowhere to be, no hurry. And there was the independence, coping with an alien culture, a debilitating climate and the unfamiliarity of every aspect of life. It was an uplifting feeling, Kai thought as she tucked into her fiery curry.
As she turned the key in the lock of the hotel room door Kai felt a prickle of unease. She entered the room holding her breath and feeling like she should be on tiptoe. Something was wrong. It was dark inside compared to the blinding sunlight of the balcony and she struggled to focus in the claustrophobic blanket of gloom, trying to assess what had caused her nervousness. The room looked exactly as she’d left it earlier in the day, except for the bed – there was something huddled on top of the duvet at the foot of the bed. Kai flicked on the light, her pulse pounding loudly in her head like waves crashing on a shingle beach. She couldn’t hear the snap of the switch as brightness flooded the room.
Towels. She’d been frightened by the fresh towels that had been left at the bottom of the bed. She sank into a chair laughing at herself. Somehow she’d sensed that someone had been in her room, but she’d forgotten that the rooms were serviced every day. Of course someone had been in: to clean.
‘What’s funny?’
Kai squinted at the figure in the doorway. Mark, his hair damp from a recent shower or a swim, a look of frank amazement on his face.
‘Just laughing at how much I’ve forgotten,’ Kai told him, deliberately cryptic.
‘I suppose there’s a lot to laugh at then,’ he said, entering the room without waiting for an invitation and sitting on the low table next to the bed. ‘Where’ve you been all day? I knocked earlier but either you were hiding or you were out.’
‘Shopping. I needed some new clothes and a few other bits and pieces.’
Mark raised his eyebrows in surprise.
‘On your own? You should have said and I could have come with you. Or maybe you don’t think I have very good taste. You’ve not done so bad by yourself though,’ he said giving her an appraising look.
‘Maybe that’s one thing a woman never forgets, how to shop. I’ve had a nice time, and it was good to be on my own. I need to get some independence back if I’m going to start living my life again.’
Mark looked down, picking at his fingernails as though he wanted to comment but felt unsure. Eventually he looked Kai straight in the eyes.
‘I’m leaving in a few days. Don’t get me wrong, I’d like to stay but I had an e-mail from a friend and he’s down in Bangkok for a few days on business. I suggested he come here but he can’t get away because of work so I’m heading down there to see him.’ There was an odd expression on his face, almost a challenge, as though he expected her to try to get him to stay.
Instead Kai said, ‘Great, for you I mean, not me. When do you leave?’
He looked more shocked than disappointed, making her add, ‘Because I’d like to take you out for dinner. I know technically it’s your money but it would make me feel a bit better about the loan if I can spend some of it on you.’
Mark shrugged. ‘He’s over on Thursday but he’s busy for the first couple of days so I can stay here until next weekend.’
‘And today is…?’
‘Saturday,’ he said frowning. ‘Your memory’s not taken a turn for the worse has it?’
‘It’s not that. I just lose track of the days. How about I take you out tonight? Then, if you want to leave any earlier, I won’t have to be disappointed.’
Mark looked uncertain, leaning back against the wall until his eyes were in shadow preventing Kai from reading his expression. She wondered if she’d somehow said the wrong thing, that perhaps he didn’t like the idea of a woman taking him out to dinner. The silence was becoming uncomfortable.
‘Look, if this is a problem…’
‘It’s not a problem,’ Mark said, leaning forward until his face was uncomfortably close to Kai’s. ‘It’s just that I have a few things to do and I was just working out the timing. I’ve thought of something that might help you, you know, with the memory thing, but it needs a little time. Anyway, you might not think it’s a good idea.’
She could sense that he was being deliberately vague. Of course she wanted to hear anything which might help her to change the seepage to a torrent and she would take any help she could get. Perhaps Mark just needed to feel wanted now that she was gaining some independence, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that he was consciously trying to draw her in, as though he wanted her to be in a situation where she couldn’t refuse his advice and help.
‘So what’s this big idea of yours?’ she asked.
‘How about I tell you over dinner? It might take a bit of explaining.’
Kai shrugged, unwilling to seem too eager. ‘Fine. I’ll knock for you at about six-thirty, okay?’
‘Great,’ Mark said standing up to leave. ‘I could do with a kip. What are you up to for the rest of the afternoon?’
Kai waved her new book at him. ‘Reading. I’ve finally got my hands on something more substantial than the out-of-date magazines at the hospital. Can’t wait to get started.’
‘See you later then.’
‘Mnn,’ Kai replied, caught again by the blurb on the back of the book.
Mark didn’t close the door behind him, forcing Kai to get up off the bed and shut the world out.
She was about to get back to the book when she was struck by another thought. She hadn’t looked at her journal for a couple of days, the shock of Ellen’s accident had focussed her on the here and now rather than a past that she couldn’t remember. Digging in her pocket she retrieved the key to the wardrobe and fit it into the lock. It wouldn’t turn.
‘Shit,’ she cursed, wriggling the key and then stepping back to study the door. The problem was obvious as soon as she got a clear view. The two doors on the wardrobe had become misaligned forcing the tongue of the lock outwards, at an angle to the socket that held it. It wouldn’t open until she pushed the doors level again
so that the mechanism could run smoothly.
Puzzled, Kai swung the doors backwards and forwards. There wasn’t much give in the movement but she felt that, with enough force the doors could be pulled completely open, buckling the lock. Her hands shook as she tried again to open the wardrobe, this time with no difficulty. Kai checked the contents carefully. The clothes were still bundled on the top shelf, her rucksack was still leaning in the bigger bottom section, and her journal was still wrapped in the clothes. Nothing was missing and nothing seemed to be disturbed.
Kai turned back to the towels on the bed. It was possible that one of the cleaners had tried the doors, or even knocked them and pulled them too far outwards in an attempt to rectify her accident. Or, perhaps the staff here were less than honest.
Baffled, Kai curled up on the bed with her journal.
November 28th – Sangkhom, Thailand
I’ve finally found that hammock and some serious peace and quiet. After a very hot bus ride through lots of little villages I’ve arrived at the smallest of the lot. I’ve got a whole ‘cabin’ to myself, which isn’t as glamorous as it sounded in the guidebook. It’s a bamboo hut which contains a double bed with a mosquito net and a lamp. It’s well worth roughing it a bit for the view though – at the moment I’m sitting in my hammock looking out across the Mekong River to Laos. The river is brown, muddy and sluggish, but who cares? It’s the Mekong.
I’ve been in this hammock for most of the day just reading and watching the river. I need a rest because, when I arrived yesterday afternoon, I spent most of my time in the hammock. It’s that sort of place. It seems that the only thing to do in this guesthouse is to laze around. You don’t even have the hassle of finding a restaurant; the owners cook and the food is incredibly good and incredibly cheap. If this is what Thailand’s going to be like I might not get much further, sod Malaysia and Cambodia.
My neighbours are an interesting bunch. I had lunch with an old German man today. It seems that he’s spent most of his life travelling and he’s never really settled down. It sounds romantic and fantastic but the reality, as always, is that such a life is impractical for a woman. There are so many places where women can’t travel in safety or where we’re looked on as whores if we don’t have a man. I couldn’t work my passage on a ship for instance, not without running the risk of being hassled to the point of insanity, or worse. I sometimes can’t help wondering why men have to make life so difficult for women on a general and individual level. And now I’m sounding bitter and twisted. Time for a change of subject.
As well as Dieter there’s another German, an American couple, a Canadian man, a very quiet English man and two more women who I haven’t met yet. They all seem to know each other and they pay visits to each other’s huts all the time. I still feel like a bit of an outsider, being a new arrival, but everyone’s been very friendly. It’s nice to meet more people who are my own age or older. It makes me feel a bit less like a freak.
The big event of the day was a visit from a snake. The Canadian in the hut next to mine was indulging in everyone’s favourite pastime, lying in a hammock reading, when he was distracted by something falling on him from the roof of the hut. At first he thought it was bird shit but, on closer inspection, the culprit turned out to be a small snake. He did exactly what I would have done in that situation and ran away screaming. The owner of the guesthouse appeared with a very ineffectual looking stick and managed to poke the snake out of the roof of the hut and on to the grass. He told us that it was a python and not at all poisonous, but he was obviously faced with something of a dilemma. He didn’t want a snake around frightening his guests but, being a Buddhist, he couldn’t kill it.
One of the German guys put our Buddhist host and the reptile out of their misery by taking the stick and beating the crap out of the snake. I went back to my hammock seriously unimpressed. Why kill something that’s harmless just because it makes us a little uncomfortable? Maybe Asia is starting to have an effect on me because, now more than ever, I can’t get my head around senseless violence. I felt outraged at the injustice of all the UXO in Laos and all the damage the Americans did in Vietnam, but I feel powerless. I know I could try to get a job like Michael’s and actually do some good, but it’s a man’s world over here and I don’t think a woman would be taken seriously if she were to talk about military matters.
So here I am sitting and brooding. I think it’s time for a change of scenery. There’s supposed to be an internet place in the village and it’s about time I e-mailed Penny to let her know where I am and where I’m heading.
November 29th – Sangkhom
I didn’t manage to get on the internet yesterday as the place was full of kids playing games. I sat around outside hopefully for a while, but I was persuaded to give up by Sandy – one of the women from the guesthouse who I hadn’t met before. She’s yet another American but she has such a great sense of humour that it’s impossible to hold her nationality against her. We talked for a while about Thailand. She’s been here for months and it’s her third trip. She came over on a one-way ticket and I get the feeling that she won’t be back in the US any time soon.
We ended up having dinner together and decided to organise a hiking expedition for today. The only other person who seemed interested was Anna, a young woman from Switzerland, who declared that she needed some serious exercise. I wasn’t convinced as I’ve met few people as toned and tanned as Anna, but I refused to be intimidated by her physique.
The owner of the guesthouse offered to give us a lift out of the village to the track where we wanted to start our walk. It wasn’t too far but it saved us about half an hour’s walking, which I really appreciated by the end of the day.
Our path led through some overgrown fields to a small settlement guarded by three fierce little dogs. Fierce that was until Sandy bent down to pick up a stone which sent them scuttling back to the safety of their house. I’d heard a lot about the problem with stray dogs in Thailand but I hadn’t really been expecting any hassle from the domestic variety and this made me a little wary every time we passed a house.
I’ve also discovered another fear. Snakes. I didn’t really get involved in yesterday’s python incident – even my curiosity couldn’t quite overcome my fear. Fortunately I haven’t seen many snakes, but I was deliberately trying to make as much noise as possible as we climbed through the undergrowth and fallen wood. I noticed my companions were only wearing sandals but, as they’ve been here a lot longer than me, I decided not to comment.
Our plan was to climb up to a small temple on a hill which overlooks the river. It looked very straightforward from the road but the path grew increasingly steep and rocky and I wasn’t keen to scramble up on all fours. Sandy and I took our time but Anna raced ahead obviously enjoying her ‘serious exercise’. As Sandy and I staggered up the final ascent to a small viewing platform Anna cheered us on and handed us her water bottle declaring, ‘You’re sweating’. She didn’t even have a glow about her and decided that she was still cold. The reason for this became apparent when she refused my offer of chocolate. ‘I only eat raw food,’ she told us. Both Sandy and I shook our heads in pity and crammed M&Ms into our mouths, greedily convinced that we’d ‘earned’ them.
The temple turned out to be something of a disappointment as it was very new: some parts of it were still being painted. The view was incredible though. We could see right across the river into the hills and forests of northern Laos where thin columns of smoke rose from various parts of the woodland. It was like stepping back in time. There was a sandbank in the middle of the river which, Sandy told us, was used as an occasional restaurant in the dry season, with people crossing from the Laos side to set up small stalls selling local delicacies. She’d been there before, a few years ago, and eaten on the river every night for a week. What a treat!
We’d planned to follow the track across the ridge and back down to the road. Nobody had discussed what we’d do when we got to the road because
we’d be at least eight miles from our village. There was just a feeling that something would turn up. I wasn’t so confident but I decided to trust my more experienced companions. Sandy fell back as the track continued to follow the undulating ridge with no sign of a descent, leaving me to get to know Anna. She’d been in Thailand for two months spending most of her time on the Burmese border where she’d used her status as a nurse to gain access to a refugee camp which, she told me, was both fascinating and distressing. It was inspiring to meet someone so young with so much confidence. She was only twenty-three but clearly used to solo travel. One of her favourite trips had been cycling round Cuba!
Anna tried to get me to open up, but I felt intimidated by her self-assurance – how could I tell her my history without sounding just a little pathetic? I fell back on the usual line about being in my thirties and wondering what I was doing with my life so I’d decided to travel. I dodged around the boyfriend/husband question and tried to turn the conversation back to Anna. Fortunately she was more than willing to talk about herself and the trudge along the track passed quite quickly.
We arrived at a collection of huts strategically placed near a road junction and Anna led me inside one in search of water. It turned out to be a café of sorts and we parked ourselves at a table to wait for Sandy. Neither of us wanted to face the question of how we were going to get back to the guesthouse, so we focussed on what little of the track we could see from where we were sitting.
Just as I was starting to get worried, a pick-up truck shot down the track and stopped at the junction. Anna leapt up and rushed out of the café waving and shouting, leaving me no choice but to follow. Sandy was sitting in the back of the truck looking very smug. Somehow she’d managed the impossible and flagged down a young man who was heading to Sangkhom. He was more than willing to allow Anna and myself to pile into the back of the truck with Sandy.
Forgotten: a truly gripping psychological thriller Page 19
