The Travel Mate

by Mark Green

  I can still go back. Find Rupert, try to negotiate, and—

  Maddie watched her sandals waltzing her dress away. Liz’s hips gyrated awkwardly, unaccustomed to heels.

  Negotiate what? False comfort with an openly adulterous husband …?

  Maddie gulped in a lungful of cool, conditioned air, sweat running down from her armpits.

  Is that truly what I want?

  A hand touched her on the shoulder.

  No!

  Maddie screeched and spun round.

  Anton visibly jumped back in shock, his eyes wide. ‘I’m sorry – you look spookily like my friend. Really sorry to have startled you. Sorry … sorry.’

  He backed away, his palms held aloft, darting his eyes around at the other passengers, some of whom had paused nearby to observe. A deep frown creased Anton’s forehead as he turned away, scanning random faces in the crowd. He shot a glance back at Maddie, but she’d already turned to scurry away, weaving through the oncoming flow of human traffic.

  Shit. Shit. Shit!

  What am I doing?

  Do I actually know …?

  Rupert’s not that bad. He’s looked after me all this time and—

  ‘No. You can’t go back. Not yet,’ she said aloud, hot blood flushing through her pores. She lowered her head, shying away from anonymous inquisitive faces, and stumbled onwards. She glanced up at the mechanical swooshing sound and slowed to a halt. Directly ahead, less than ten feet away, a set of large glass doors glided open, wafting humid, optimistic air through the climate-controlled atmosphere.

  Trust in myself!

  The sound of an electronic ping interrupted her inner wranglings. She checked her mobile phone, shuddering at the text message from Rupert:

  Where the bloody hell are you?!

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  Heart racing, palms sweating, Maddie twisted around, scanning the sea of faces at the far check-in desks. There. Left side, eleven o’clock. Average height, but carrying more surplus body weight. Rupert stood on tip-toe, peered over heads, surveying the crowds.

  Shit, shit, sh—

  Another message alert drew her attention back to the phone clutched in her hand. From Liz this time:

  YOU CAN DO IT! Taxis on ground floor. I stayed at Wild Orchid Villas, near the Khoa San Road. I ignore the budget – first and last day in a new country. Guidebook in backpack pocket. 4 weeks perfect for Cambodia. My route, in reverse. Be brave – you’re a real traveller now … GOOD LUCK! Liz

  Okay – I CAN do this—

  Maddie’s phone began to ring. Rupert’s face jumped in bright bold colour onto the screen, launching Maddie’s heart rate up another twenty beats. She wrenched her eyes across the concourse, peered out from beneath the bandanna, could see Rupert holding his hand to his ear, scanning the crowd.

  Elevator, to your left …

  Maddie tilted her posture, shielding Rupert behind the backpack. She took several calming breaths, then hurried away from the sliding doors, staying parallel to the glass frontage.

  Thump, thump, thump …

  Her heartbeat resonated around her head, like a fast-bouncing basketball echoing in a vast empty court. She placed a wobbly foot on the escalator’s top step, lurching forwards. Safely aboard.

  Don’t look round. Don’t look round. Don’t—

  Maddie’s torso sank below the floor level, disappearing from Rupert’s meerkat surveillance. Thank God. At the bottom of the escalator she followed the couple in front as they turned left, towards an identical set of automatic glass doors, swooshing open.

  Last chance …

  Maddie scrunched her hands into tight fists, holding her breath as she stepped out of the cool, artificial airport atmosphere into the hot, sweaty, what-the-hell-am-I-doing-here Bangkok air. Her heart pounded. Right there, in the moment.

  • • •

  Barry stepped out of the gloomy corridor into a grey smog that filtered sunlight in hazy clumps over the chaotic Khoa San Road. Endless market stalls stretched out in front of dingy shops onto the tarmac, shaded beneath grubby heavy-duty canvas awnings. Above these, rectangular advertising banners had been strung across to the opposite side of the street, competing for attention with gaudy neon signs belonging to tattoo parlours, rooftop beer gardens, restaurants, hotels, beer brands and silversmiths. Anything and everything here, available twenty-four hours a day. Below the rigid signs and plastic banners, taxis, scooters, tuk-tuks and multicultural pedestrians mingled amongst vehicle exhaust smoke and steam from pork satays, sizzling on portable rectangular barbeques.

  Barry lit his rollie and joined the throng. He plucked a map out of his cargo shorts and stopped to glance down, checking his route. He weaved around a parked scooter, narrowly avoiding a taxi. He waved cheerfully at the taxi’s beeping horn and puffed contentedly, scrutinising the maze of options.

  After a moment’s deliberation, he pocketed the guide and strolled towards the sound of greater traffic intensity, of the motorised and human kind.

  • • •

  ‘Where you want go, lady?’ asked the taxi rank supervisor, a smiling Thai woman dressed in a bright green and yellow outfit.

  ‘Oh, right. Um …’ Maddie reached for her phone and read out Liz’s hotel instructions.

  ‘Four hundred fifty Baht, okay lady? You go there.’ The supervisor pointed at a bright pink taxi and its enthusiastic driver, who sprang into action, hurrying over to ease the backpack off Maddie’s shoulders. She slumped into the back seat of the pink saloon and wiped her trembling palms on the denim shorts, then flattened her hands out on her thighs.

  ‘You like football? Manchester United, Chelsea, Liverpool …’ jabbered the driver in super-quick time. He shot her a toothy grin in the rear-view mirror as he steered through the traffic using his knees, simultaneously texting with one hand and re-tuning the car radio with the other.

  ‘Football, me? No, but my fiancé likes …’

  ‘Rooney. You like Wayne Rooney?’

  Maddie met the driver’s attentive eyes, darting at her in the mirror, and shook her head. ‘No, I like Giggs – Ryan Giggs.’

  ‘Ah, Giggs!’ The taxi driver chattered away in a mixture of Thai and smatterings of English words and phrases, sprinkled liberally with names of prominent footballers. All the time he gestured with his hands while ducking and twitching his body in the seat as he weaved the car through the traffic, occasionally pausing to look at Maddie in the mirror. He tooted the horn at opportune moments, seldom placing a hand on the wheel until he needed to swerve across the traffic to join the main elevated expressway. The taxi wound its way through the tall buildings on the flyover, which basked sporadically in morning sunshine peeking through smoggy patches of polluted sky.

  It’s a new day. Promises of the unknown …

  Maddie clutched her stomach as a jolt of bile threatened to force its way into the back of her throat. She glanced out of the window, quickly looking away again, shutting her eyes as a truck cut across in front of the taxi, inches from smashing into its side. A familiar ringtone fought for superiority over the taxi’s music system. She glanced at the phone’s screen. Rupert, again.

  She rejected the call.

  Okay, so this is surreal … but the six hundred dollar question is – what the hell am I going to do next?

  Six

  ‘Sir …?’

  Rupert turned to face the check-in desk clerk. He lowered the phone from his ear and shook his head, exhaling hard through his nose. ‘She’s not answering.’

  ‘What is the nature of your wife’s problem?’

  ‘She’s a pain in the backside.’

  ‘You wife is in pain? Does she have sickness?’

  ‘Sick in the head,’ Rupert muttered, fixated on the phone’s screen, ‘and she’s not my wife … yet.’

  ‘Sir, we cannot hold the plane.’

  ‘I know, I know. But I can’t contact her. I need more time—’

  ‘Sorry sir, no time. Please, you need to decide. You w
ould like to check in, now?’

  Rupert stared at her, hands on his hips, jaw clenched, inhaling in sharp snorting breaths. ‘Damn you, Madeline. What the hell have you done?’

  • • •

  Shh-clitch.

  That sound … so reassuring, noble and finite. Barry’s index finger lingered, keeping the shutter release button held down, activating the voice memo function. He murmured urgently as he relayed twenty truthful seconds of fast and fluid reactive observation, without premeditated sentence construction or censorship.

  Memory Card 2. Pic 344

  ‘Alone with vulnerability, anxious as the taxi leaves with her sensibility. Staring, statue-like at the hotel entrance, her well-travelled clothes and party-time bandanna – all authentic. Yet she does not inhabit this informed uniform, the clothes hang uneasily in stark contrast to her sparkly decoration. Appearing so obviously out of place here, highlighted perhaps by her underlying sense of fear …’

  Barry released his finger and lowered his bulky Nikon D2XS camera, cradling it as he shaded the screen with his palm and peered at the high definition image. ‘Beauty.’

  He glanced up to watch the woman break out of her trance and haul the backpack awkwardly onto her shoulders. She hesitated, then proceeded with small steps away from the quiet side street up into the multi-tiered, squishy leather sofa lobby of the Wild Orchid Villas Hotel.

  Barry eased the camera behind him, let it hang beside his hip where he draped a protective arm around its bulk. He wandered on, strolling past the open-fronted hotel towards the shops and market traders at the end of the cobbled alleyway, whistling through pursed, smiling lips.

  • • •

  Maddie shielded her eyes from the sun, peering up into the hotel’s entrance.

  Doesn’t look too bad. Nod to acknowledge the girl in the sarong with tattoos, past the cute guy in the street with the fancy camera. Remember to breathe.

  Smile and breathe—

  ‘Hi, how you? Checking in?’

  Maddie nodded and shrugged the pack off her shoulders.

  ‘You have reservation?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘How many nights?’

  Good question. ‘Um … one to start with, then perhaps more?’

  ‘Okay. Twenty dollar.’

  The receptionist slid a form across the desk towards Maddie, placed a pen on top of it, then turned to a pretty young girl sat behind her and barked instructions in Thai. Maddie leaned over the desk and pressed the pen harder than necessary against the paper in an effort to stop her hand from shaking. Behind her on several levels of terracing, traveller types lounged on couches, eating, drinking, chatting.

  ‘Please, follow,’ said the receptionist, barely glancing at the completed form, which she swiftly separated from the cash payment and passport. Maddie picked up her backpack and followed the girl farther back into the hotel towards the narrow stairs.

  ‘Okay for you, yes?’

  Maddie glanced around the simply furnished room with a double bed and pale blue tiled floor.

  Looks clean.

  ‘Yes, very nice, thank you.’

  Maddie watched the door close. She sank down on the bed and slumped forwards, resting her head into her hands. ‘Maddie … priorities,’ she whispered, her voice muffled behind her hands, pressed tightly into her face. ‘Get back to reality, Maddie!’ Louder now.

  She lifted her head, pushing her hands onto her knees as she straightened up. ‘Sooo … what are you going to do now? Check out, get a taxi back to the airport and – no!’ she squealed, shaking her head and rotating her gaze around the room.

  She unlaced Liz’s boots, pulled off the thick smeggy socks, then stood and took three steps to the curtains, which she pulled back. Sunlight peeked through the glass panels in the wood frame, bathing the small balcony outside in warmth. She smiled, unlocked the door and peered outside, noting the bench on her right and toilet and shower wet room to her left.

  ‘Okay … this is actually a nice place to read, relax and get a grip. That’s what I need, some quiet time to figure stuff out. Definitely. Now, where’s my book …?’

  Maddie retreated back into the room and began unclipping the backpack straps, delving into its pockets and compartments. ‘Oh. Not my things. Right. So … what have I got?’

  She tipped the contents of the backpack onto the bed, sifting Liz’s stuff into separate piles. She wrinkled her nose at the stale, sweaty odour from the clothes, quickly turning her attention to the other items, amongst which were two books: the Lonely Planet Guide to Vietnam, Cambodia, Northern Thailand and Laos, and Survival in the Killing Fields by Haing Ngor. Other items included a rolled-up suede travel backgammon set about the size of a relay baton, a pair of flip-flops, sunglasses, mozzie spray, leftover malaria tablets, basic first aid kit, box of tampons, two packs of condoms, a mosquito net, a part-used roll of duct tape, a Swiss Army knife, a leather-bound notebook and a pocket-size LED torch.

  ‘That’s it. This is what two hundred quid buys you … nice one, Maddie. What were you thinking?’

  I must stop talking to myself.

  She stood and placed her hands on her hips, bare feet pacing the room, leaving faint condensation outlines on the cool tiled floor. A nervous smile twitched across her lips. She shook her head, then broke into a giggle. ‘Silly, silly girl!’

  Maddie stepped out onto the balcony. Resting her hands on the balustrade, her gaze drifted down over the alleyway below. The buzzing rattle of a small scooter weaved through meandering tourists, leaving a trail of oily two-stroke smoke which lingered, mixing with the faint smell of a hot, musty sewer. Voices punctuated the lull in engine noises, multinational chatter drifting up from the alleyway: English, Thai, Dutch, German. She folded her arms and turned to face into the room, her gaze settling on the bed, flitting over the contents of Liz’s pack. She stepped back into the room, drawn to her mobile phone.

  ‘Okay, essentials.’ Maddie searched through the piles of stuff again. ‘All present and correct, except for … bugger. No charger.’ She sank down on the edge of the bed, hesitated, then picked up the phone. It displayed a new messenger alert icon, from Liz:

  Just boarded the plane, close one! Intensity (or temporary insanity?!) in the ladies toilets. Go Maddie! Whoop whoop! Sorry about unwashed clothes. Lovely ladies run a laundrette service just to the right of the hotel. Gullible Travels is a legendary bar to find a travel mate – not too many crazies. Kind of speed-dating for travellers. Wow, so much fun ahead – ENJOY! Liz

  Maddie read the message again. She finished just as the phone rang, the screen displaying Rupert’s profile photograph: him stood in a London bar coveting a pint of Peroni. Her thumb hovered above the accept and reject prompts. She swiped her thumb across the screen.

  ‘Hello Rupert,’ she said in a neutral tone.

  ‘Where the hell are you? Check-in closes in ten minutes!’

  Churning stomach acids crept up towards the back of her throat. She scrunched her eyes shut, concentrating hard to force the queasiness back down.

  “Maddie, where are—’

  ‘I’m not coming,’ she stammered, ‘I’ve accepted your challenge.’

  ‘Maddie, this is insane – what challenge?’

  ‘You goaded me, said I wouldn’t last a week on my own with a minuscule budget, remember?’

  Silence from the phone. Smatterings of happy chatter drifted up from below the balcony.

  ‘You can’t do this – we’re getting married in six weeks!’

  ‘And depending on how the next four weeks go, we might not …’

  ‘Don’t be stupid. Why wouldn’t we—’

  ‘Because I deserve more!’

  Maddie listened to his angry breathing over the background airport bustle, picturing his bulging eyes and crimson cheeks.

  ‘Where are you?’ Rupert demanded.

  ‘A million miles away from signing your version of a marriage contract.’

  ‘So what are you saying—’
/>
  ‘That I’ll meet you to redefine our relationship, after …’

  ‘You wouldn’t dare! You need me, Madeline. You don’t cope well on your own, especially not in a foreign country—’

  ‘So guess what, I’m going to find that out for myself.’

  ‘Please, Maddie. Tell me where you are, I’ll ask them to delay the plane. We need to be on this flight home—’

  ‘No, we don’t. I’m taking the initiative, Rupert. I’m going to travel on my own. I need to do this, prove to myself—’

  ‘Damn it Maddie, you have to be on that plane.’

  ‘No, I really don’t. I’m not being bound by a chauvinistic contract. Any contract, in fact. I need this time Rupert. It’s important.’

  ‘Getting on this fucking plane is important!’ he yelled.

  Maddie pulled the phone away from her ear. She stared at it for a moment, frowning. ‘Not to me, it isn’t,’ she said firmly.

  ‘For Christ sake, Maddie – this is bloody ridiculous!’

  ‘When I get back, two weeks before our wedding, I’ll be better equipped to renegotiate.’

  ‘Renegotiate what, exactly?’

  Maddie paused. ‘Everything.’

  Rupert’s voice softened. ‘Please Maddie, don’t be stupid. Come back to check-in. Let’s get home, we can talk about this and—’

  ‘Rupert.’

  ‘Yes, I’m listening …’

  ‘Don’t expect a postcard.’ Maddie hung up. Then as an afterthought, she switched off the phone and tossed it onto the bed.

  Seven

  ‘Okay. Priority number one, clean clothes.’

  Maddie gathered Liz’s dirty laundry in her arms and stuffed the pungent items into a plastic bag she’d found in a pocket of the rucksack. She shook out a worn cotton shoulder bag, held it up for inspection. ‘You’ll do. Passport, purse, guidebook, reading book … oh. Not my book, but … okay, why not.’ She shoved Liz’s paperback into the shoulder bag with everything else and headed for the door, double checking she’d locked it behind her.