The Travel Mate

by Mark Green

  ‘Night Madge. Thanks for letting me doss down.’

  She opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling. ‘Oh, sure. No worries … Bozzer.’

  ‘You taking the piss…?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘With the “no worries” pun?’

  ‘Not knowingly—’

  ‘Sure?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Because I’d hate to have to jump up onto that comfy bed and spank you for such colonial contempt,’ he said in a serious voice.

  Maddie propped herself up and glanced over the edge of the bed. She bunched up a spare pillow and threw it at his head.

  ‘Ouch! What was that for?’

  ‘Stop trying to wind me up. I can see you grinning.’

  ‘That’s my dazzling personality.’

  ‘I’m tired. Lights out, please.’

  ‘Charisma never sleeps—’

  ‘Yeah, well, it’ll be sleeping on the street unless Skippy buttons it!’

  She listened to the silence for a moment, then lay back down and wiggled her head into a comfy hollow in the pillow.

  ‘Ball basher.’

  Maddie fought back an impulse to smile. ‘Organ-grinding wallaby.’

  His muffled sniggering drifted up from the end of the bed, its tempo and nasal squawking infectious. She giggled, tried to contain it, but instead broke into a deep belly laugh. ‘You tosser!’

  ‘I would do, quite happily. But you’d hear my sleeping bag rustle.’

  ‘Jesus – arrrggghhh!’ Maddie pulled the pillow over her head and screeched into it. She thumped the bed and sat up. ‘Can’t you just go to sleep?’

  ‘Hey, I’ve got fifty hours of flying and plane transfers to look forward to. I’ll get all the rest I need then.’

  ‘You’re saying you want to party now, at—’ she peered at her watch, ‘eleven thirty–seven?’

  ‘Did you say party – what we waiting for?’

  ‘I’m waiting, for you, to go to SLEEP!’

  Maddie heard a heavy sigh. She listened to his sleeping bag rustle as he sat up, his head and shoulders appearing as a dark outline at the end of the bed. He rested his elbows each side of her feet, pinning the sheet across her ankles. ‘Serious question.’

  ‘Okay …’ she said apprehensively. She drew up her legs, curling her knees to her tummy.

  ‘How fucking old are you?’

  ‘Um … twenty-six.’

  ‘Sixty-six, you say? That’s about right … for fuck’s sake, Princess Madge, don’t just go out there and get a life, get out of the casket already!’

  Bozzer leapt up, darted across the room and flicked the light switch. Maddie recoiled, squealing, scrunching her eyes. She peeked out from behind the pillow. ‘Can’t you just lie quietly, let me sleep? Please—’

  ‘NOOO, let’s hit the town! Grab some slap, throw on your party rags and let’s do this city before we’re carted off to the friggin’ morgue. We should leave this place to go our separate ways barely being able to remember how spectacular it was. I fly outta here tomorrow night. I don’t wanna be sitting on that plane for the best part of two days, thinking Aw gee, that was an okay time. I feel nicely rested … I want to be sitting there with a huge exhausted grin plastered over my face thinking Fuck me – I’m wasted. That was epic!’

  • • •

  ‘She’s not here.’

  ‘No, but she’s not alone.’ Fender pointed to the second backpack, propped up against the wall at the end of the bed.

  Rupert scanned the hotel room. ‘There’s no suitcase. This can’t be Maddie’s stuff.’

  Fender picked up the mobile phone off the bedside cabinet. ‘This hers?’ he asked, unplugging the cheap charging lead and handing the phone to Rupert.

  He studied the screen, scrolling through the contacts list. ‘It does look like her phone, but there’s no contacts listed. None at all.’

  ‘You’ve been deleted, Rupert. She’s already moving on.’

  Rupert shot Fender a hurt look. ‘I’m not that bad a person.’

  ‘Perhaps not. But you’re a terrible fiancé. Keep hold of the phone and empty both packs onto the bed. Let’s see who her new room-mate is.’

  • • •

  ‘What are you doing, Madge …? It’s ten past four on a Wednesday morning. You’re in Cambodia with a hyperactive, degenerate, creative, eccentric Australian. It’s like you’re living another life … have you completely lost your mind?’

  Maddie dropped her gaze from the cracked mirror and cupped her hands in the sink, gathering cold water to slosh on her face. She used a paper towel to dab the water droplets away, then lifted her eyes to meet her reflection. She cocked an eyebrow and turned up the corners of her mouth.

  ‘Yup. Lost it, found it. Lovin’ it!’ Maddie grinned at her fractured, lopsided and bright-eyed reflection.

  She poked her head through the string beads dangling across the washroom doorway and weaved her way through the narrow passage, emerging in a dim smoky bar. 1990s dance music blaring from ancient speakers clinging precariously to black-painted walls.

  ‘Drink!’ yelled Bozzer, thrusting a cocktail glass into her hand.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Who cares!’ He raised his glass, downed half the sunrise-shaded liquid and slouched back against the bar, flicking ash from his joint onto his tobacco tin lid.

  ‘You’re a bad influence.’

  ‘Yeah, and not a guidebook in sight.’

  ‘Just a camera.’

  ‘Always. And a TV screen – you seen this …?’ Bozzer pointed to the old boxy television perched on a shelf behind the bar.

  Maddie turned to follow his scrutiny of the flickering image. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘I saw the story on the internet a few days ago, struck me as a novel idea …’

  Maddie peered at the television screen, which showed a tall, serious-looking Westerner in his early thirties with a paunch belly, standing next to an attractive pale-skinned girl of a similar age. She had shoulder-length mousey hair and a slim yet curvy figure. The couple drifted away from two bored-looking professional photographers. They walked awkwardly, side by side with their bulky rucksacks through a glass door beneath an airport ‘departures’ sign. The girl’s well-travelled backpack contrasted with his brand new, pristine example.

  Bozzer caught the attention of the barman. ‘Hey buddy. Turn it up, please?’ He motioned with his thumb and finger, miming twisting a volume knob.

  A British newscaster’s voice grew louder: “… met today for the first time. Six months ago, business analyst Jonathan Cork booked a three-month trip backpacking around South America, securing two non-refundable, non-transferable tickets for him and his then-girlfriend, Kate Thornley. Unfortunately, with a week to go before jetting off, Kate dumped Jonathan, leaving him with an unusable spare ticket in her name. Unwilling to travel on his own due to a serious nut allergy, Jonathan decided to take drastic action and advertised on eBay and social media for someone to travel with him who had the same name as his ex. Jonathan’s new travel companion, the replacement Kate Thornley, is thirty-two, a trained nurse and—”

  The image on the screen flickered and distorted, static drowning out the rest of the newscaster’s voice. Maddie glanced at the barman, who shrugged and fiddled with the television set, tabbing through the other channels, searching for a settled picture.

  Bozzer turned away from the screen. ‘It’s a bit extreme, don’t you think? He only needed to get himself out there, he’d soon pick up a travel mate.’

  Maddie flicked an eyebrow, tilting her glass to swallow a mouthful of margarita. She picked the joint out of his fingers and took a toke on it, wallowing in the numbing, tingling sensation.

  ‘Was that how you met Jody? Picked her up by charming her with your didgeridoo?’

  He sniggered. ‘Not all players, play.’

  ‘Like the pie-eyed piper?’

  Bozzer grinned and swallowed a mouthful of the potent rum concoctio
n. ‘You got a plan, after? I mean, home to the husband – back to a job?’

  Maddie’s eyes glazed over. ‘Home is … was, a rented apartment. But if we’re not getting married …’ She shrugged. ‘Guess I’ll speak to one of my folks.’

  ‘They’re not together?’

  ‘No. They separated a few years ago. One of ’em will have forgiven me by now … probably.’

  He shot her a quizzical look.

  ‘Long story. I’ll be postponing that phone call for as long as possible.’

  ‘Hence chasing the next adventure?’

  ‘Uh-huh. As for the job, I sent them an email, asked for some unpaid leave.’

  ‘You don’t sound that bothered.’

  ‘No. Right industry, wrong department.’

  ‘How come?’

  ‘Fashion magazine – I worked in the advertising marketing department.’

  ‘That’ll bleed the soul, alright.’

  She nodded. ‘Which, I suppose, is why I’m here.’

  ‘Seeking enlightenment?’

  ‘Or intelligent conversation. Ambitious, I know, given present company.’

  Bozzer smirked and drained the rest of his cocktail. ‘You should have advertised, like the eBay bloke. He’s not gonna get any sort of cultural experience tucked up in a hotel room at eleven thirty-seven … guess the new girl’s paid handsomely for a share of that.’

  Maddie shrugged, smiling contentedly as she offered him the joint back, shaking her head at his so am I right, or am I right? cocked eyebrow and lopsided grin.

  ‘Okay, I concede. Maybe, perhaps, on this one occasion you might be right …’

  ‘Now you see! You were in serious danger of ageing another twenty years in that hotel room.’

  She sighed, nodding. ‘I don’t know why I’m like that. You’re right, I’m only twenty-frigging-six!’

  ‘It wouldn’t matter if you were eighty-six. Why conform to someone else’s perception of how you should act at a particular age? There are no rules, only society’s pre-conceived convention, all administered by governments who don’t like the unpredictability of free-spirited people, of any age. They try to control your expectation of life. But right now, at this precise moment – you, Madge – are sticking two fingers up at all that bullshit conformity. And for that, Madeline Bryce, I salute you.’ Bozzer stood up straight and snapped his flat palm up to his forehead, humming a ‘Last Post’ bugle melody.

  Maddie giggled, then frowned, her lips straightening, evolving into a more sombre expression. Bozzer glanced across at her, noticing her change in mood. He stopped humming and sat back down, watching her finish the rest of the cocktail, her expression glazing over.

  She leant in towards him to make herself heard over the pounding music, which the barman had just cranked up a notch. ‘Today was … seriously disturbing.’

  ‘Yeah … we’re a pretty messed-up bunch, us humans. There’s no peace to be found with so many diverse religious interpretations. Never will be, not without universal compassion.’ Bozzer glanced at their empty cocktail glasses. ‘You wanna stay here, or take a wander – get some shots?’

  Maddie pointed to the shelves stacked with bottles. ‘They’ve got loads of spirits in here—’

  Bozzer lifted his camera case off the floor and pointed towards the street. ‘I meant shots, for my book. Before dawn breaks out there … lots of glimmering stars and beautiful souls to capture.’

  She followed his gaze out into the street, her face relaxing into a smile. ‘That sounds lovely, actually. Sure, I’m in.’

  ‘Me too,’ said an assertive-sounding voice.

  Maddie and Bozzer turned towards the tall and wiry middle-aged European, entering the bar from an adjacent entrance.

  ‘Name’s Fender. Your fiancé, Rupert, I believe you know.’

  Rupert stepped out from behind the stranger called Fender, like a nervous child. He had a tired, sheepish expression on his face. ‘Hi Maddie, it’s good to see you. We need to talk about some important, er … baggage.’

  Thirty-Nine

  Maddie’s jaw dropped open. ‘Rupert? What are you—’

  ‘We’ve been looking for you, Madeline. I suggest we find a quiet corner, there’s much to discuss.’ Fender held his hands out, ushering her back inside the bar.

  Maddie exchanged a confused look with Bozzer. He flicked his gaze between Fender and Rupert, slowly retreating with her.

  They settled into a booth in a dim corner. Maddie sat next to the wall, opposite Rupert. Bozzer slid in beside her, across from Fender. A young Thai waitress scurried over, grinning enthusiastically. ‘You like drinks – pitcher of beer?’

  ‘Yes, and mineral water. Thank you.’ Fender turned from the waitress to face Maddie, whilst maintaining a periphery awareness of Bozzer. ‘We’re here, Maddie, because your fiancé has been both foolish and reckless. He secured a loan from some rather unsavoury characters that he couldn’t pay back. So to cover the debt, he agreed both of you would carry something through Thai customs and deliver it to them in London. But because you took off on your pre-marriage-jitters whim, he never completed the transaction. Dropping him, and indirectly you, up to your neck in the shit.’

  Maddie stared at Fender, her heart pounding. ‘I wasn’t carrying anything else through customs. I checked my suitcase before we left the hotel, and I can assure you—’

  ‘How did you get the rucksack? What happened to your Samsonite suitcase?’ Fender barked, glaring at her, his eyes cold and unblinking.

  Maddie tore her eyes away from Rupert to stare at Fender. ‘I swapped them.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It wasn’t practical, lugging an unwieldy case on and off buses. It screams I’m a tourist – rip me off. So I traded it.’

  ‘With whom?’

  ‘Another traveller.’ She turned to Rupert. ‘Surprised? Thought I had to have everything brand new? This is the new me.’

  An uneasy silence enveloped the group. Fender studied Maddie’s resolute expression.

  ‘There wasn’t a suitcase in your room at the Wild Orchid Villas, I checked,’ said Rupert.

  Maddie shrugged. ‘Because I’d already … what does it matter? What did you do, Rupert? What was in the—’

  ‘Where exactly did you make the swap?’ asked Fender.

  Maddie stared at him, her mind racing. ‘What is this – you’re blaming me for his screw-up?’ She broke eye contact with Fender to glare at Rupert. ‘Shouldn’t you be here to apologise, try to win me back? What’s so special about a bloody suitcase?’

  ‘Maddie, please understand – this is important.’ Fender lowered his voice. ‘The Samsonite suitcase is important, to Rupert’s creditors. We need to know where it is.’

  ‘There wasn’t anything in it! I know about the penalties for smuggling in Thailand. A woman got caught a few months ago, she narrowly avoided the death penalty. I made damn sure I checked my case before we left our hotel in Bangkok, then I locked it. There were no weird ornaments, no extra packages. No drugs.’ Maddie clenched her jaw, her glare boring into Rupert.

  Fender sighed and turned to Rupert. He shook his head, shoulders slumped, and dropped his listless eyes to the table top.

  Fender refocused on Maddie. ‘Did the case seem a bit heavy – when empty?’

  She froze, her brain churning as she thought back. ‘Rupert … what’s going on?’

  ‘You weren’t carrying anything extra inside your suitcase,’ said Fender. ‘The Samsonite casing had been specially constructed with a double skin, meaning the suitcase itself was the transportation vessel. It contained approximately one and a half million dollars’ worth of product.’

  ‘Product?!’ Maddie scrunched her forehead, her body trembling. She levelled her glare on Rupert. ‘How is this possible – for me to be put at risk by your stupidity? You’re such an arsehole!’

  Bozzer sat back and shifted his gaze around the group. Maddie glanced at him as he mentally framed everyone’s expressions. Her neck glowed cri
mson, large blotches seeped into her cheeks. Rupert had his eyes fixed on his hands, fiddling with them, like a naughty schoolboy on the receiving end of a parent’s rant. Fender sat statue-like: legs still, elbows on the table, arms upright, fingers splayed and pressed together, his chin resting on his thumbs. He observed Maddie intensively, then rotated towards Rupert.

  ‘I will speak to your masters in London. Get them on the case, so to speak.’ He turned back to Maddie, his features rigid and unyielding. ‘What are your travel plans, going forwards?’

  ‘I assumed she’d be coming with us. To find the suitcase, sort this mess out,’ interrupted Rupert.

  ‘But it’s not my bloody mess, is it?!’ shouted Maddie.

  ‘That’s the logical solution, right?’ Rupert countered, turning to look at Fender.

  He glanced away, frowning. He removed the vibrating mobile phone from his pocket and scrutinised the screen. ‘Please excuse me for a moment.’ He stood up and withdrew to the far side of the bar, answering the incoming call, careful to maintain his surveillance of the group. Maddie watched his emotionless expression evolve into surprise during the murmured conversation.

  ‘To whom am I speaking?’ Fender listened, his eyelids crinkling. ‘How did you … right. Yes, I did, a long time ago. This is relevant because …? That’s unfortunate, but I don’t see what it has to do with—’

  Maddie wrenched her attention away from Fender, levelling a glare back on Rupert. ‘What would have happened, if I’d been stopped at customs?’

  ‘Maddie, please. I did this for us, I’d have been liable too, if—’

  ‘There’s no joint initiative here – no partnership!’

  ‘You’d have benefitted from the payoff,’ countered Rupert, holding eye contact with her as he folded his arms. ‘We’d have been able to—’

  ‘Benefitted?!’ Maddie tensed, her breathing strained, a befuddled expression seared across her face.

  ‘Yeah, it would have funded our wedding, for starters. Then there’s the designer clothes, that ostentatious engagement ring—’

  ‘Here, keep it!’ Maddie twisted the ring, yanking it off her finger. She grabbed his wrist, wrenched it out from his folded-arms posture, pressed the ring into his palm and forcibly wrapped his fingers around it. ‘There, satisfied?’ She ushered Bozzer out of the booth, allowing her to shuffle over and stand up. She folded her arms, glaring at Rupert.