Thai Girl (17 page)

‘No joke though Clarissa, I really admire Fon's principles. Most of her money goes looking after Joy and her mother, and she says her sister Jinda's a virgin. They're both pretty wary of men.'

‘Maybe Fon has reason to be … you said there's a boyfriend in the background somewhere. And the child you told me about … Joy is it? You don't really know who the mother is, do you. And does Fon claim to be one of the virgins?'

Ben did not have the chance to reply to all these questions as they were interrupted by Chuck and Maca noisily joining them at the table after their day's snorkelling. Already well-oiled, they ordered more beers.

‘Great beach, mate,' said Maca. ‘Wasn't Aussie coral but it was good. You should've come with us.'

‘Yeah, you dunno how to live, man,' said Chuck dreamily.

For the rest of the evening Ben was quiet and lost in thought and after a couple of beers with the lads, he went back to his hut to sleep. It had been a frustrating day with a good ending, though the next day's trip into Ban Phe with Fon was looking much more promising.

13

As the eleven thirty ferry out of Ao Sapporot came clear of the headland, its brightly-painted hull began to lift in the gentle swell. The on-shore breeze moderated the heat of the day and the sea sparkled and danced to the rhythm of a perfect cloudless morning. Ben watched from the stern as the island fell behind in all its beauty. At this distance, apart from the mast for cellphone reception, Koh Samet looked undeveloped and unspoiled. Beautiful though it was, he felt relieved to be getting away from where the tensions with Emma had come to a head, even if only for a few hours.

On board with him were Fon, her friend Gaeo, sister Jinda and little Joy. Fon had already squeezed in two hours of massage that morning and only just managed to get aboard the last boat shuttling passengers to the ferry anchored in the bay. Ben had taken the first boat with the others and was terrified she would not make it in time. From the ferry he watched as she splashed through the shallows, desperately trying to roll up her tight jeans, laughing and joking with the boat boys. Now they were all comfortably installed in deckchairs on the upper deck, Fon trying to dry out her jeans. The three women were absorbed in excited chatter which had them in fits of laughter, while Joy was rushing around under Fon's anxious eye. It was a party all the way, every ounce of enjoyment being extracted from a mundane trip to the bank to send money home.

Forty minutes were spent watching the island pass by the port side before the ferry nosed around the end of the massive stone breakwater that created a safe haven and made Ban Phe a major fishing port. The long jetty was crowded with boats, the wooden planking of the walkway and the bustle of pick-ups and motorbikes already familiar to Ben. It was only a few days earlier that he had come here for the first time en route to the island with Emma but it seemed an age. So much had happened in so short a time.

Joy led the way along the jetty, pulling Fon by the hand and talking incessantly. They passed through the stalls and wooden shacks selling beach clothes and fruit and reached the road. It was a busy urban street, lined with featureless three-storey concrete buildings, their facades covered with signs and hoardings advertising every modern temptation from Pepsi to mobile phones.

‘First we go eat,' said Fon, leading them to a food shop a few hundred yards up the street. Furnished only with concrete tables and chairs, it consisted of a long, narrow space under a commercial building open to the winds with no front or rear walls. As it was still early, there were no other customers. She walked through as far from the road as possible and chose a table on the edge of what should have been a garden at the back. Ben sat down on an uncomfortable chair and took in the surroundings. The inside had not seen any paint for many years and the concrete floor was scattered with empty beer cartons and junk. On the wall by their table was a dog-eared poster of the fishes and flora of Thailand stuck on with yellowing tape. He was a little alarmed. How safe was it to eat in a place like this?

Fon ordered the food and in no time the table was laden with pork ribs, tiny fish fried to a crisp, a rice soup and
laab,
a northeastern dish of minced beef, cooked with all sorts of green bits and pieces. The meal was to be eaten with sticky rice, the staple food of Lao and Isaan. Ben had not tried sticky rice before and was not too sure about it. The opposite of the western fixation for fluffy rice grains that do not stick together, it was congealed into one glutinous blob. He watched the others as they ate the sticky rice with their fingers, rolling it into a ball, dipping it in the sauce and popping it into their mouths. But what struck him most of all was the containers; the rice was served to each person in a finely-woven basket with a lid and a wooden base. He picked his up and admired it.

‘Beautiful,' he said. ‘Where can you buy them?'

‘You like sticky rice?' asked Fon slightly bemused.

‘No, the basket … great handicraft. I'd like to take one for Mum.'

‘She eat sticky rice?'

‘No, I mean for display, to look at.'

‘Farang
want to look at basket! Too much sun, go soft in the head,' said Fon with a mocking grin before adding something in Thai. When the others erupted in laughter, Ben sensed it was indecent and at his expense, though he adored her every little attention.

The food was quickly eaten and Fon called loudly for the bill. She paid the girl and they abruptly departed; there was serious business to be done. They all walked together along the edge of the road, close to the roar of the traffic. There was no pavement and it was dusty and hot, the heat radiating from the tarmac. They walked for about ten minutes, leaving behind the concrete shop houses and crossed an open area between the fishing port and the old centre of the town. Ben felt the sweat trickling down his back, his tee shirt clinging to his wet skin.

Ahead of them was a large white building, the branch of the Bangkok Bank where Fon had her account. Fon and her posse went inside, while Ben tried his luck with the cashpoint on the outside wall. He inserted his card and his baht came popping out, much to the wonder of an old man nearby, marvelling at the miraculous fountain of money.

Inside the bank he found Fon wrestling with the intricacies of paying-in slips, taking two thousand baht from her own account to put into the account of her mother's friend. This was the monthly payment that enabled her mum to survive in relative comfort. Enjoying the air-conditioned calm of the bank, he was relieved it all took some time.

Back outside again, it seemed that Fon had something on her mind. She told Jinda and Gaeo to wait with Joy in the shade for a few moments and asked Ben to follow her.

‘Ben, I want to show you something,' she said, looking serious.

‘What is it?'

‘Come with me.' She walked away at some speed despite the heat, talking as she went. ‘Ben, you ask me about my dreams. Joy soon five, go school …'

‘Yes, but where are we going?'

‘Look school, school for Joy.'

She took Ben a few hundred yards to a small private school, tucked away in modern buildings beyond an orchard of fruit trees. The school was in session and children in neat, practical uniforms could be seen at work in spacious classrooms and playing in the playground. Fon clearly knew the place well and walked around freely, without embarrassment. Apart from a few glances at Ben, the children politely ignored them.

‘So that my dream, my dream for Joy,' she said as they walked back to the road.

‘I hope the dream comes true … but it must be expensive, Fon.'

‘Maybe can … if many tourists come Koh Samet.'

Ben was impressed, though he wondered how she could possibly afford the fees just from working as a masseuse.

They walked back to the others who were still patiently waiting where they had left them. Fon then braved a superheated phone box to call her mother's friend and tell her the money was in her account, while in the cool of Thai Farmers Bank, Gaeo was making a money transfer to her family in the North East. Crossing the road again to the post office, Gaeo then helped Fon to fill out a form for registered mail; they kept making mistakes, ripping the form up and starting again. Fon explained to Ben that she was sending some cash to an elderly and wayward relative.

‘Sister my grandbrother she not work … drink too much, buy lottery. I send her little bit money, so she can eat.'

‘Why's it you who has to give it her?' asked Ben.

‘They know I have money, they speak Mama, so Mama ask me to give. Big family, big problem.' With a resigned look, she handed the envelope with the money over the counter.

This last payment finally done, they all went on down the road through the old town, a narrow street of tightly-packed wooden shop-houses, each with its ground floor shop and living-space upstairs. They walked past crowded clothes shops, hardware stores, beauty salons and dealers in farm and fishing equipment, Ben happily tagging along, no longer bothering to ask where they were going. Soon they reached a market.

‘Buy food for this evening,' said Fon.

The market was an open-sided iron shed full of stalls selling fish, meat and vegetables, clothes, plastic goods, buckets and bins. It was quiet as it was still early afternoon, but the stalls were all manned by weathered women patiently waiting for a sale. Ben noticed one exception, a pretty young girl. When she turned to smile at him, he saw she had only one eye, the other an empty socket.

Fon was buying food in brisk and businesslike fashion, choosing and bargaining and passing the packets back to Jinda and Gaeo, buying enough meat and fish for a small army. They then went back into the street where Fon called three motorbike taxis. She jumped onto one of them and with Joy squeezed between her and the rider, they shot off down the road. Gaeo and Jinda got on another and noisily departed in a cloud of smoke. Ben had no idea where they were going but the third bike set off with him clinging on behind, in hot pursuit of Jinda's yellow tee shirt which he could just see disappearing into the distance.

His motorbike was now going much too fast. It weaved through the traffic and braked hard at an intersection, avoiding a collision by seconds. As it took the next corner the world tipped sideways and then righted itself, his brain filled with images of bodies bouncing and sliding down the road and of bare limbs lacerating on loose tarmac.

After a few more spine-tingling moments, he realised he had returned to the fishing port through the one-way system and that the others were already walking away towards the ferry. He paid forty baht to the driver for not quite killing him and set off after Fon, his legs feeling strangely unfamiliar. When he caught up with her, she smiled at him with a mischievous glint.

‘You like motorbike taxi?' she asked. ‘Sorry Ben, no need to hurry … wait next boat one hour.'

But Ben was not complaining. He was still alive and though waiting for Fon was painful, waiting with her was no problem at all.

‘Ben, you wanted to look email,' she reminded him bluntly. ‘Why you not do it?'

‘Yeah, of course, I'd forgotten,' he said, feeling a bit stupid.

‘We wait you over there, clothes shop.'

Ben was surprised that emailing Emma had totally slipped his mind. Keeping in touch with her was important, but he had become so absorbed in chasing after Fon that it had totally gone out of his head. He crossed the road and found the internet cafe where several travellers were intently huddled over their computer monitors in silent communion. He sat down and nervously opened his Hotmail account. As he scanned his inbox, he saw with a jump that there was a message from her sent the previous night. So Emma had made the first move.

To: [email protected]mail.com

Subject: Chiang Mai

Dearest Ben, I'm shocked you haven't emailed me, gobsmacked, gutted even. I was half expecting an apology but maybe you're too busy with sun, sand and massage. I'm busy too as I've met some people and we're getting the train tonight to Chiang Mai to do some hilltribe trekking. I was going to wait for a message from you, but as I'll be in the jungle for a bit, thought I'd email first.

Just to say I don't want to part on bad terms without talking things through a bit, so can we get together in Bangkok? When I'm back from CM, I'll meet you at the Regal Hotel off Ratanakosin Avenue near the Grand Palace. It's a bit pricey but no need to book. You check us into a room for the night of 25th and I'll be there in the evening. Email me if you're not coming, but if you don't come, then stuff you. Gotta get packed and meet the others before the train.

M.

The message was typical Emma. Ben could just hear her saying this sort of thing and felt almost reassured by her bluntness. He suddenly missed her and felt funny that she was heading off to Chiang Mai without him. As he wanted to keep his options open, it was important how he now played his cards.

To: [email protected]

Subject: Stuff and Things

Emm, How could I email you from Koh Samet, there's no cyber palm trees! So I've made a special trip into Ban Phe, but I'll have to be quick as the boat goes back soon.

I'd love to be going to Chiang Mai. Who are the blokes then? Bring me back some opium or a stick of rock and see you on the 25th. And Emm, I do miss you, honest. It came as a real shock you walking out on me like that. I had no idea you were so screwed up and I didn't mean to get up your nose. Got a bit over-excited in Bangkok I guess, but for me you're still a cool dude. So enjoy, and see you at the Regal. Suppose I'm paying!

Love, Ben.

He clicked on ‘Send', quickly read a message from his little sister, paid and rushed out of the shop. He found Fon in the back of the clothes shop where she was waiting for him, fooling around with the others and trying on clothes. The shop was little more than a wooden shack built over the beach by the pier. It was intolerably hot inside, the generator which rumbled loudly in the background only adding to the heat. Gaeo and Jinda were sitting on the floor eating fried chicken and sticky rice out of plastic bags and offered some to Ben, but he did not fancy it.