by Mark Green
She shook her head, then splashed cold water on her face. After gently press-drying her skin, she rummaged in her toiletries bag for her toothbrush.
Time and travels will tell me when …
Thirty-One
Maddie awoke with a start – something had jolted her foot. She clutched the sleeping bag under her chin, squinting through tired eyes, vaguely aware of a mumbled curse then an accented apology. Shafts of sunlight streamed in through gaps in the curtain, blindingly bright, warming her face. She shifted away, shielding her eyes as she lifted her gaze upwards, taking in a pair of feet, hairy legs, then the air gap between Barney’s baggy boxer shorts and his thighs, revealing a birds nest of scraggly pubic hair, loose-skin hairy testicles and a drooping penis.
‘Ugh, Barney – too much flesh!’ she screeched, diving her head back into the sleeping bag.
‘Ha ha ha! You like real man, not upside down AC/DC illegal?’
‘Yes, correction – NO! Too early in the morning for a horror show, ugh!’
Barney reached down and clasped a hand over his boxer shorts, scrunching up the material to clamp everything firmly in place. ‘Is safe, I have taken myself in hand.’ Barney moved around to the opposite side of the bed and pulled on a pair of board shorts, then ducked his head into a tee-shirt.
Maddie peeked out from the sleeping bag. ‘Spare a girl from heart failure, please.’
‘Good wakey up, working willy – make big bang-bang. Girls always happy,’ Barney mumbled, wrestling the tee-shirt over his head.
‘I’m sure it does, at the appropriate time. Which is definitely not now.’
‘Anytime is good time, ja? Pay money – time, no problem.’ Barney yanked the tee-shirt down and fanned out a wedge of currency from his pocket, maintaining a deadpan expression.
Maddie flicked her eyes over at the door as it creaked open. Bozzer stepped into the room, his hair wet, a clean tee-shirt clinging to his damp skin. ‘Shower’s good – invigorating.’
‘Hot water?’ she asked.
‘Hot enough to tease a warthog from a slop bog,’ he replied, glancing between Barney and her. ‘Bad timing? Should I return later …’
‘Cheeky git. Your friend is auctioning off his crown jewels.’ She sprang up from her makeshift bed, grabbed her toiletries bag, towel, and clean clothes and ducked out of the room. ‘He’s not getting any winning bids,’ she mumbled from the corridor.
‘Barney’s not fussy, don’t freshen up on his account,’ Bozzer called after her, sniggering.
‘I swing low, for sweet Harriet. She no like,’ said Barney, a hurt twang in his voice.
‘She won’t like the hot water situation, either,’ grinned Bozzer, checking his watch. ‘I reckon thirty seconds. Stand by …’
He opened the bedroom door, standing there listening. He kept an eye on his watch as he mimed Maddie undressing. Tee-shirt, shorts, bra, knickers. Turn water on, step into shower and … They both smirked at the muffled screech, drifting down the hallway.
Bozzer shut the door with a mischievous grin and stepped around the bed to start packing his rucksack, whistling cheerfully.
• • •
‘It seems wrong for this place to exist, especially here,’ said Maddie, glancing up at the long bundles of twisted wiring strung across the street and neon signs fixed to the side of the buildings.
‘Yep, centuries of cultural worship meets Western decadence … it’s all about the glitz now, to bring in the bucks. We’re stupid, aren’t we, like moths drawn to a bright light, unwittingly banging our heads on the pub’s bar, thinking we’ve found enlightenment.’
She looked over at him, her forehead creasing into a frown. ‘I guess …’
‘So this place we’re going to instead, should offer some sanctuary from the hypocritical capitalist juxtaposition that is Siem Reap.’ Bozzer flicked through Maddie’s Lonely Planet guidebook.
He scanned the text and located their destination on the town map. ‘Next left, then a right down the adjoining alley. I promise you, this place will offer a completely different perspective.’
‘On what …?’
Bozzer indicated for her to cross the road, leading her towards an alley between two buildings. ‘Everything,’ he said, easing a glossy black wooden door open, beckoning her to follow him inside to a walled garden.
She entered, her eyes panning around. A fine black netting stretched out horizontally a few feet over their heads, a sheer, near transparent canopy. It stretched out across the full width of the courtyard, joining the walled sides and merging with vertical netting fixed to the top of the wall. In the centre of the paved courtyard, the raised brick sides of a fish pond contained floating water lillies and a dozen graceful coy carp. Above the lazy fish, dragonflies skimmed across the mirror-like surface. Chairs and tables adorned a terrace area beneath fabric shades. Flitting all around them were a hundred or more different species of butterfly, attending to exotic flowers, going about their daily routine in untroubled harmony.
Maddie grinned, mesmerised by the hovering serenity of the graceful multi-coloured creatures. She held out an upturned palm to allow a turquoise and yellow-winged butterfly to land on her thumb. ‘Wow, this place is beautiful,’ she murmured, gently raising her hand to peer at the intricate pattern on the butterfly’s delicate twitching wings.
‘A fair compensation for a cold shower?’ asked Bozzer, showing her to a table.
She pulled a face, then dropped her eyes back to her palm. The butterfly flicked its wings and took off, floating away across the pond’s still water. ‘How did you know about this place?’
‘Saw it mentioned on a blog. Thought you could use some quiet time, to contemplate. After the shock, of Barney’s bits and bobs.’
Maddie rolled her eyes, shook her head. ‘Far too much jungle scenery. Doesn’t he have any awareness of social etiquette …?’
‘He’s German, what do you expect?’
Maddie shuddered and picked up the menu. ‘So what’s good?’
Bozzer raised his camera to frame a shot of Maddie with the pond in the background. ‘It’s all wholesome.’
She glanced up into the camera lens, just as he pressed the shutter and captured her inquisitive expression.
Shh-clitch.
‘What, no random, pithy observations?’
‘None needed. This time the camera captures its own contextual truth.’
She looked away, a faint pink blush tinging her cheeks. ‘This place, so tranquil. You’d never know what’s going on, out there.’
‘Away from all the glitz and vanity – travellers and their fake philosophies?’
She nodded.
‘Did you notice last night, there weren’t any locals eating in that part of town? Just us Westerners, being waited on exclusively by Cambodians. Not exactly integrated and multicultural … I’d rather find the heart of the place. There’s too many plastic people out there, in the corporate branding, neon abyss.’
‘And yet we still go there, to socialise with other Western travellers, enjoy a drink.’
‘It’s true. Sometimes it’s comforting to feel like you’re in a little part of home … I know, I’m a hypersensitive hypocrite. But, the camera—’
‘Captures the truth?’
‘Always. Which brings me neatly to you, Madeline Bryce.’ Bozzer plonked his elbows on the table and peered intensely at her across the table. ‘What’s your truth?’
Maddie shifted on her seat. She glanced away, then tentatively pulled her gaze back to meet his. ‘Me? It’s still being written – isn’t that what all you authentic traveller types say? The cliché that life is all about the journey, not the destination …’
‘But you don’t believe that, not yet. You have to inhabit this life first. Tell me about your bloke.’
‘Rupert?’
‘Or the other fella.’
‘What other fella?’
‘Charlie pompous-chops.’
‘I thought you were asking about my
fiancée.’
‘He likes you too – the Yankee-doodle bloke. He’s a catch, for a girl like you …’
Maddie stared at him for a few moments, then shook her head and picked up a menu, scanning it. ‘Thanks for bringing me here, it’s been peaceful.’ She counted off several notes from her purse, then stood up. ‘My treat, for renting the floor space last night. I’m sure you can think of an appropriate way of splitting it with the German chap.’
She walked away from the table. Bozzer watched her circumnavigate the pond, heading for the door. Amusement twitched at the corner of his lips.
Maddie stepped out of the quiet sanctuary of the netted compound into the narrow, dusty alleyway, the ambient noise level increasing as she walked back towards the main street.
Bozzer jogged up to her side. ‘I was only asking. He’s a good prospect – one more trophy for him, a sugar sonny for you.’
Maddie slid her hands onto her hips. ‘Is everyone out here working an angle?’
‘Isn’t everyone back home?’
‘No!’
Bozzer watched Maddie march away. He sniggered and checked his watch, then turned and strolled off in the opposite direction.
Thirty-Two
‘Now you’re looking like a proper traveller.’
Maddie glanced up from her book, shielding her eyes from the midday sun. Victoria slipped her rucksack off her shoulders and sank down onto the seat beside her, absently panning around the bus station before resting her gaze back on Maddie.
‘I haven’t changed anything.’
‘It’s an overall look … now you’re minus your earrings. Almost completes the transformation.’
Maddie returned a startled look and touched her ear. ‘Oh, yeah. I took some advice.’
Victoria nodded, looked her up and down. ‘Suits you, more natural.’
‘Oh, thanks. Are you catching the bus to Phnom Penh?’
‘Sure am.’
‘With Charlie?’
Victoria glanced away, across the bus station tarmac. She slowly shook her head, a sad look in her eyes. ‘No. I mean, yes, I think he may be on the bus too, but we’re not together. Never were really. It’s a shame … wasn’t a spark there, you know?’ Victoria turned back to her. ‘I guess he wasn’t my type after all.’
‘I’m sorry to hear it didn’t work out.’
Victoria shrugged. ‘I owe you an apology, Maddie … I think I may have been a bitch towards you. It sometimes happens, when there’s a bloke on the scene. Sorry.’
‘Oh. I don’t think you were … but okay, thanks. Apology accepted.’
Victoria nodded and lit up a cigarette, then offered the packet to Maddie.
‘I don’t normally, but … thanks.’ She withdrew a cigarette, placed it between her lips and leaned towards Victoria to accept a light.
‘That sort of day, huh?’
Maddie looked away, her eyes glazing over. ‘More like several, all strung together in a continuous surreal daydream, slash reality hotchpotch.’
‘Testing times soon pass.’
Maddie nodded and turned to smile at Victoria. ‘Sure hope so.’
An old bus rumbled into the bay in front of them, its engine clattering to a halt. Maddie turned and looked up at the destination displayed on the front, then swept her gaze across the rest of the bus station to the old clock above the ticket office. ‘I’m on this one.’
‘Me too,’ said Victoria, following her lead and pushing to her feet. She dragged her backpack onto a shoulder and heaved it awkwardly towards the luggage storage section, being opened by the driver.
‘Where in Phnom Penh are you heading for?’ asked Victoria as she settled down into a seat in front of Maddie.
‘Not sure about a hotel yet, but thought I’d check out the Tuel Sleng museum.’
‘S21? That’s gonna be tough. It’s not for everyone.’
Maddie nodded and lifted up the paperback, Survival in the Killing Fields. ‘I’ve been reading about what happened to the author. It’s not my normal type of book – it’s horrific, but strangely compelling. Figure I need to go there, see it for myself.’
Victoria nodded and turned to face forwards as the next batch of travellers climbed aboard the bus. She scanned the new faces, homing in on one in particular. ‘Oh, great.’ She sank back into her seat.
‘Morning, ladies …’
Maddie glanced up as Charlie sat down in the seat across the aisle from her. She looked over and met his gaze. He flicked his eyes over Victoria’s side profile, then settled on her.
‘Hi, small world.’
‘Ha – dream world!’ interrupted Bozzer. ‘Hello folks, spare me your jokes. I’m back to pester you, line up girls, join the queue. Still laying on the worldly-wise traveller charm, eh, Charlie-boy? Hasn’t the world got enough smarm?’
Bozzer clapped Charlie on the shoulder as he shuffled past, knocking into him with his camera case. He plonked himself down into the seat behind Maddie. ‘Nice to see you again, Vicky. What’s up, fallen out with golden balls?’
Victoria looked away, shaking her head as she stared out of the window.
‘You too, Madeline. I missed you at the hotel. Listen, I don’t want to cause any embarrassment, but I’ve checked with Barney, and these definitely aren’t his …’ Bozzer removed a pair of cotton knickers from his pocket with “I heart Thailand” written on them. He pulled the elastic back against his thumb and took aim, pinging them across the coach. They bounced on the roof just above Maddie and fell onto her lap. She stared at the scrunched-up bundle, aware of Charlie’s wide-eyed glare from across the aisle. She snatched the material into a fist and stowed the offending item in her shoulder bag.
Bozzer sat back and winked at Charlie, then smiled innocently at Victoria and Maddie, who had both turned to perch their knees on the seat and glare at him. He shrugged theatrically. ‘If you will leave them lying around on the floor, darling …’
Maddie scowled at him, then turned to sink back down. Bozzer switched his attention back to Charlie, still glaring at him. Bozzer lifted his camera and fired off a shot.
Shh-clitch.
Memory Card 3. Pic 228
‘Jealous rage building a head of steam, bulging purple veins quite unattractive on this hybrid beauty queen. His angular jaw straining, wishing he could give this troublesome Aussie a good caning. Hatred burning in his eyes, with the loss of his English prize. To an annoying reprobate no less – it’s futile to dabble with Scrabble, mate, when your foe excels at chess. But the burning question remains – did the bloke from down under deflower, and plunder? The truth will come out, given time, no doubt. Meanwhile the wallaby wanker reigns supreme – that’s stuffed the water-diviner’s dastardly scheme.’
The bus driver crunched the gearbox into reverse, revved the engine and began to ease out of the designated space. Bozzer lowered his camera and tucked it into its bag, all the time maintaining peripheral awareness on Charlie’s tense, clenched-fist posture and snorty, raspy breaths. ‘Gonna give yourself an ulcer, bud.’ Bozzer turned to glance at Victoria. ‘Hey, Vicky. Your boyfriend’s giving me the eye!’
Victoria swivelled around in her seat and poked her head above the headrest to scowl at Bozzer. ‘We’re not together.’
‘Ahhh, lovers’ quarrel? That’s so … unsurprising.’ Bozzer’s mischievous smile dissolved. ‘You did seem a bit dubious, together.’ He held his cold, fixed expression, then turned to glare at Charlie, unwavering until Charlie finally shifted his eyes away, rotating to face out of the window. Victoria turned away too, towards Maddie who was seemingly absorbed in her book, headphones plugged in.
Bozzer eased his own headphones over his head, watching the shops lining the main road into Siem Reap slip away behind them, overplayed by Sting, crooning the opening to The Police hit, Roxanne.
• • •
Rupert jolted awake, wincing at the crick in his neck. He peered out of the open window at Fender and squinted in the glare from the midday sun.
‘Up you get, soldier. Your watch.’
Rupert eased open the taxi door, bleary-eyed. The flow of traffic past their observation point had eased considerably since the chaotic early morning clamour to enter the temple’s complex.
‘Still nothing?’
‘No. Victoria’s phone is either switched off, or she’s changed her SIM. Our man at the network is doing another search. In the meantime, stay vigilant.’
‘I thought we’d have seen her by now.’
‘Indeed. It’s not looking positive for you, Rupert. Or your family.’
‘My family? What’s that supposed to—’
‘Remember that insurance policy I mentioned, the last time we were here? Gerald and Margaret Sullivan: Jersey Road, Osterley, West London. Lovely view from their bedroom window, out over the park. Your father, a former bank manager, took early retirement last year. Mother, a schoolteacher – deputy head in fact. Both high achievers. Home owners. Proud of you, are they Rupert? They surely won’t be, when they have a visit from your London associates.’
‘You wouldn’t … don’t have it in you to—’
‘Me? Of course not. I’ve got far too much respect for my generation – they’ve got integrity and honour. But your Class A paymasters don’t have the same respect for people’s hard work – their savings and property. They’ll take the lot, liquidise everything to clear your debt. And even then, you’ll still be in their pockets. So keep a super-keen lookout, won’t you?’
Fender brushed past Rupert, shooting him an ominous look as he climbed into the taxi’s back seat and sank into the hot plastic.
• • •
