The Travel Mate

by Mark Green

  ‘That’s very considerate.’

  He shrugged. ‘I’m quite happy to pollute my own lungs, but I like to leave everything else as I found it.’

  ‘How admirable.’

  He shot her a raised eyebrow. ‘You Brits enjoy your sarcasm.’

  ‘It keeps everyone else on their toes.’

  ‘It keeps you lonely.’ He winked at her.

  She stood up, made a show of dusting ash off her sarong and began walking up the steps. ‘Have a nice afternoon.’

  ‘That’s it, conversation over …?’

  ‘What were you expecting, me to roll over with my legs dangling in mid-air?’ she called over her shoulder.

  ‘It’s not my favoured position, but I could be persuaded.’

  ‘Dream on, buster,’ she muttered, heading for the wooden walkway, leaving Barry sniggering.

  • • •

  Memory Card 3. Pic 133

  ‘Transportation alienation. Pinching a lost cause, without realising times like these should make one stop to reflect, hit life’s pause. Scuppered by an inch of flat rubber, should this travel buddy stay to help, or walk on, and snub her …?’

  ‘Could you be any less helpful?’ Maddie released her thumb and finger from the flat tyre and turned towards him, tight-lipped, her eyes narrow.

  ‘Hold that pout – perfect!’ Barry clicked off two more frames before he lowered the camera. ‘Ah c’mon, it’s a great shot – upper class princess, stranded in the depths of the Angkor temple complex. Her survival determined by the integrity of the Australian degenerate … will she allow him to come to her rescue in exchange for a dinner date?’

  ‘Piss off!’

  ‘Oooh yeah, there it is! Even the warmth of the late afternoon sun, can’t enthuse Madge with a sense of frolic and fun …’

  Barry’s voice tailed off as he watched her lurch back on the ground, clutch her hands to her face and squeal, her breathing making a distorted groaning sound from behind her fingers.

  ‘Sorry … Darth. Would you like some help?’

  She mumbled a reply.

  ‘Say again?’

  ‘How can you be so bloody insensitive? Do you have some sort of disorder that makes you—’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘What?’ Maddie separated her fingers, peered out at him.

  ‘It’s a form of attention deficit hyperactivity disorder, mixed with some other stuff I can’t pronounce. I try to keep it in check, mostly succeed. But sometimes, I get a bit … hyper.’

  Maddie lowered her hands and stared at him.

  ‘The photography helps, gives me something to focus on. So does the occasional beer. Smoking the special happy-happy blend is especially helpful.’

  ‘Oh. I see.’

  ‘Yep. There it is.’

  ‘So in effect, you self-medicate?’

  ‘Sure, works for me. You don’t wanna see what that Ritalin crap does to people. It steals their souls.’ Barry gestured to her bike. ‘We can get your tyre fixed out by the main entrance.’

  ‘That’s twelve miles away!’

  ‘Yeah, it’s a hike. Probably take about four or five hours to walk …’

  ‘But it’ll be dark soon – don’t they shut the park?’

  ‘They do that alright. Suppose I could give you a backie. We could tow your bike.’

  ‘Would that work?’

  ‘Sure. Get you as far as Ta Prohm, about halfway.’

  Maddie frowned. ‘Is that where you rented your bike from?’

  ‘Nope. That’s me, till tomorrow.’

  ‘You’re not leaving the temples tonight?’

  He shook his head. ‘I want to capture some dusk and dawn shots. I read about the tree roots at Ta Prohm, they’ve literally consumed the stonework. Mother Nature reclaiming what’s hers. That’s where I want to be, at sunrise.’

  ‘So you’re camping out, overnight?’

  ‘I sure am.’

  ‘On your own? I mean, are there others staying there too?’

  ‘Possibly, but I doubt it. It’s no stress. You can take my bike from Ta Prohm, get you back to civilisation. We’ll swap them over in the morning.’ Barry packed his camera away and strolled over to an adjacent tree where he’d parked his identical classic shopper bicycle. ‘Or, you can walk your bike out. Up to you.’ He placed his camera case in the front basket, tied the strap around the handlebars and wheeled the bike over to her. ‘What’s your preference?’

  Maddie pushed up to her feet, brushing twigs off her bottom. ‘I’ll accept your offer of help, thank you.’

  Barry nodded and sat back on his saddle, pointing the bike towards the road. ‘Climb aboard the rack, hold your bike’s handlebars across your lap and lift your feet up. We’ll drag your bike along on its back wheel, okay?’

  He turned to look over his shoulder at her lack of movement. ‘What’s up – you okay?’

  ‘I don’t think I can do this …’

  ‘It’s easy. Just jump on behind me and—’

  ‘You don’t understand, it’s—’

  ‘A beer time story?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Okay, two choices. You can tell me the story first, then climb aboard, or you pedal and I’ll jump on the back instead. You can tell me on the way.’

  ‘That would take some time.’

  ‘Hey, I’ve seen how fast you ride. Half that speed with my weight – trust me, there’s time for your entire life story.’

  ‘I can’t ride pillion.’

  Barry sighed. He climbed off the bike and flicked out the side-stand. ‘No bother, on you get.’ He straddled the rack, his feet planted on the ground either side of the rear wheel. ‘Time’s a-wastin’.’

  Maddie climbed through the frame, flicked up the stand and pushed back onto the saddle, barely able to balance the bike on her tiptoes. ‘Seat’s a bit high.’

  ‘You’ll be okay. Go for it.’

  Barry looped his arm under her bike’s handlebars and held them across his thighs. Maddie began pedalling. He scooted his feet along the ground until they had enough momentum for him to lift them up, balancing the edge of his flip-flops on the rear wheel nuts. ‘Okay?’ he asked, grasping the saddle spigot with his free hand as they wobbled off the path onto the tarmac road.

  ‘Think so, it’s hard going – you’re a heffalump!’

  ‘Just keep pedalling. More speed equals a smoother ride—’

  ‘No sexual innuendo!’

  ‘Just offering some friendly advice … there you go, that’s a decent speed.’

  ‘You okay on the back?’

  ‘All good. This’d make a great photo, eh?’

  They cycled on in silence, their grey shadow constant and unflinching on the tarmac.

  ‘So … about that beer time story,’ said Barry, turning his head to one side to avoid her hair flailing into his eyes.

  ‘Yours or mine?’

  ‘The pillion problem. Was it a motorbike?’

  Maddie cycled on. She focused on watching the front wheel cut through the lines of tree shadows stretching across the road. The low sun cast elongated projections of their outlines, sunlight peeping and glinting through the tops of the trees, sinking lower towards the horizon. A minute passed. Two more … Eventually she sighed. ‘My first proper boyfriend, Stefan … he used to give me a lift.’

  ‘You hated it?’

  Maddie shook her head. ‘No. I loved it,’ she said quietly, ‘the sensation of speed, the freedom. I used to feel so … alive.’

  The distant putt-putt trundle of a tired old engine grew louder, resonating through the treeline.

  ‘Is that behind us?’

  Barry half-turned to glance over his shoulder, causing the bike to wobble with his shifting body weight.

  ‘Whoa, easy—’

  ‘We’re okay. Yup, he’s already pulling out, we’re good.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Maddie kept close to the trees on her right, allowing a motorbike towing a converted tuk-tuk trailer to overtake. The th
ree tourists in the back waved. The engine’s high-pitched squeal left the bicycle engulfed in a trail of wispy fumes.

  ‘I love the smell of two-stroke in the evening,’ said Barry, mimicking an American accent. He sneezed, causing the bike to wobble again. Once their balance had returned, he asked gently ‘Were you on the back when the motorbike crashed?’

  The bike quivered again. Maddie tweaked the steering, lining the handlebars up straight. She cycled on for another minute before answering. ‘No. Stefan was alone, on a country road … a car pulled out. He had no time to react – ironic, considering he raced motorbikes for a living.’

  ‘When did it happen?’

  ‘Seven years ago. I’ve never been on the back of a motorbike since.’

  ‘I’m sorry … that must have been tough.’

  Maddie nodded, her breathing uneven, eyes misty. She blinked rapidly, pushed her legs down harder on the pedals.

  ‘There’s East Mebon. We’re about halfway to Ta Prohm,’ he said, as they passed a partially hidden wall of blackened, green stones, shielded behind the trees.

  ‘Okay, thanks,’ she murmured. She focused on squeezing her legs down even harder, blanking out the burning muscular sensation in an attempt to manage her pain.

  Twenty-Five

  ‘Madge? How are your legs doing?’

  She frowned, breaking out of her catatonic stare, glancing away from the dusky grey tarmac. ‘Madge?’

  ‘Your new nickname. Like it?’

  ‘What – why …?’

  ‘Why not? Means we’re getting to be mates.’

  ‘That takes more than an hour of saddle sore.’

  Barry sniggered, blowing puffs of warm air onto the nape of her neck. ‘You’ve been in the zone, working pretty hard.’

  ‘Yeah, needed to …’

  ‘It’s helped, we’re nearly there, look. See the lake on the left? That’s Sras Srang, the royal bathing pool.’

  The vast expanse of still, dark flatness lay dormant and eerie beyond the smattering of trees lining the waterfront. Ahead, beyond the far shore where silhouette statues guarded the vast ablutions pool, the sun gradually slipped below the horizon. On the road, dusk had banished their constant, trailing shadow. Barry reached down beside the rear wheel and released the dynamo clip, pinging the small charging wheel onto the tyre’s sidewall.

  ‘Whoa, easy …’ The bike weaved across the road as Maddie wrestled the handlebars to regain steerage.

  ‘He said let there be light … and behold, there was light.’ Barry peered around her shoulder to check out the cylindrical glow illuminating the road ahead. ‘Better?’

  ‘Uh, yeah. Thanks. Not that bright though, is it?’

  ‘You’ll have more headlights soon, from the traffic heading out.’

  Maddie cycled on in silence for a while.

  ‘Take this left.’

  ‘The path?’

  ‘Yup, it’s the place I’ve been told about. You can leave me and your bike here and carry on to the entrance.’

  ‘What time do they shut the gates?’

  ‘I think the complex shuts at six-thirty. Don’t know if there’s gates as such, but so long as there are people still leaving, you’ll be fine.’

  Maddie steered the bike off the tarmac onto the rutted track, the dynamo-powered light dimming and juddering on the uneven ground.

  ‘Just there. See those ruins, beyond where the path crosses the stream? A hundred yards further.’

  Maddie nodded and pedalled for another half a minute, then slowed to a gradual stop. Barry assisted by trailing his feet on the ground. ‘Yeouch, gonna be stiff tomorrow,’ he said, standing up and laying Maddie’s bike on the ground. He stretched his aching muscles, watching Maddie remain straddling the tubular frame, casting her eyes over the outline of a twin tier stone-clad building. It had been built to incorporate two six-foot high by three-foot wide window sections, each side of a crumbling column entrance beneath a deteriorating stone block roof.

  ‘You’re staying in there tonight?’

  ‘Sure am.’ Barry reached around Maddie and removed several small nylon bundles and a hessian bag from the basket, then crouched down next to her bike. ‘Do you want the rest of the water?’ he asked, peering up at her through the gloom.

  ‘No, I’m okay thanks.’

  ‘Cool. It’s a hike to the nearest food shack and I don’t want to draw attention to being here. See those headlights? That’s the road. Turn right, go about quarter of a mile, then take the first major right. Follow the main drag back to the moat surrounding Angkor Wat, and tag onto the flow of traffic all the way out. Very straightforward. Okay?’

  Maddie followed his outstretched hand pointing at the sporadic flashes of headlights beyond the distant treeline. ‘Okay, thanks.’ She watched him switch on a small torch and prop her bike up, gathering the bags and water bottle off the ground, placing everything in the other bike’s front basket. ‘What about in the morning – swapping the bicycles over?’

  ‘I’ll meet you at the entrance to Ta Prohm at ten. I should have got your tyre fixed by then.’

  ‘Oh, okay. Thanks.’

  Barry began wheeling the bike with the flat tyre towards the building. Maddie gazed at his beam of illumination, dancing on the path. She turned to look behind her at the distant pinpricks of light, then hastily swung back round towards Barry’s jigging torchlight.

  ‘Hey … wait up,’ she called. She stepped out from the bike frame, fast walking beside it towards Barry, having to squint in the faint light from the bike’s dynamo.

  Barry’s torch arched around, spotlighting her pushing the bike towards him. ‘You okay?’

  ‘Of course, no problem. It’s just … I’m not sure I’ll make the entrance in time. So I wondered … could I hang out here?’

  ‘With me? No.’

  Maddie held a hand in front of her, attempting to block the beam of light from his head-torch. ‘Oh. That’s not very chivalrous.’

  ‘That’s Aussies for ya. We’re uncultured crooks.’

  Barry panned the torch around, held it under his chin, lighting up an elongated grin and shadowy eye sockets. ‘Just kidding – look, big smile!’ He swung the torch onto the ground at her feet, chuckling as she stepped over to join him.

  ‘Not funny, Bozzer.’

  ‘Bozzer?’

  ‘Yeah. Bullshitting-bulldozer-Barry from Oz. Sums up your personality perfectly.’

  He chuckled. ‘Okay, Madeline, up-her-own-arse material girl. From now on, you shall forever be Madge. This way, pop princess …’

  Bozzer turned his head, aiming the torchlight ahead, picking out their route over to the building entrance’s rickety steps. ‘We’ll carry the bikes inside, away from sight. Here, take the torch. I’ll take mine in first.’ He lifted his bike up the steps between the slanting columns, stepping over fallen stone blocks, carefully working his way through the building to the inner courtyard.

  ‘What was this place?’

  ‘Somewhere for the worshippers to rest, perhaps. Or for house servants, away from the grandeur of the main temples.’

  ‘How do you know about it?’

  ‘I read a blog about a guy who stayed here a few years ago. He bought a day ticket and camped for a week. I scoped it out on the way in this morning.’

  Maddie shivered. She slipped on her fleece and zipped it up.

  ‘Are you hungry? I’ve got some scran we can share.’

  Bozzer sat down on the flagstone terrace and rooted through the selection of bags. Maddie watched him set a compact aluminium pot on the ground. He separated its deep dish lid and removed a cup-size gas canister and a compact single-burner stove, which he screwed together and lit. He produced a small bag of rice which he poured into the pan with a good soaking of water.

  ‘No spare liquid to rinse it, so it won’t be your normal cordon bleu. But it’ll do.’

  • • •

  Kao held the chopsticks halfway between the bowl and her partially open mout
h. She alternated her eyes between Fender, Rupert and the photograph on the smartphone, laying on the table in front of her.

  ‘Your wife?’ she said slowly, lowering the chopsticks.

  ‘Not quite. His fiancée,’ said Fender, his open palms touching the top of the chair opposite her. ‘May I?’

  Kao nodded, her eyes flitting around the busy noodle bar.

  ‘Thank you. This won’t take long.’ Fender slid the chair out from under the table and sat down. ‘Maddie left her fiancé at the airport, in Bangkok. He’s worried about her safety. Will you help us to find her?’

  Kao looked at the photo again, then lifted her gaze to stare directly into Rupert’s eyes. ‘She a nice person.’

  Fender didn’t let him reply. ‘Yes, she is. Rupert owes her an apology.’

  ‘How you find me?’

  Fender clasped his hands on the table and smiled thinly. ‘It’s what I do. How upsetting were the killing caves, near Battambang?’

  ‘Very sad.’

  He nodded, his features solemn. ‘Yes. That period of Cambodian history was extremely distasteful.’

  Kao nodded. She dropped her gaze from his.

  ‘Is Maddie here in Phnom Penh?’

  ‘No. Last place I see her, at bus station in Battambang. Going to Siem Reap, with others.’

  ‘Okay, good. Can you name any of the group? In particular, anyone else she seemed friendly with?’

  ‘She with Victoria and Gabby. Charlie like her. Think she liked the Australian boy too, made her smile. But he gone, be with girlfriend.’ Kao shifted her eyes away, a clump of chicken noodles falling off the end of the chopsticks, plopping into the bowl.

  ‘Please, eat while it’s hot. Thank you for your help.’ Fender retrieved the phone from the table. He stood up and strolled away.

  ‘I hope you have fun, travelling,’ said Rupert before he followed Fender out of the noodle bar into the dusky humidity of Street 460, in the heart of Phnom Penh’s uniform grid layout.

  ‘What’s next?’

  ‘Back on the road, dear boy.’

  Rupert’s shoulder’s slumped. ‘Now?’

  ‘The sun rises over Angkor Wat in less than twelve hours. If you want to hold onto your future wife, and your testicles, we need to be there.’