Coconuts and Wonderbras (12 page)

    ‘What are you doing?’

I shush with my finger on my lips but all is lost. I lose my balance and have to grasp Mr Tattoo by the shoulders to steady myself. He wakes with a start and looks straight into my eyes and his arms wrap around my waist.

    ‘What the fuck?’ he mumbles.

Yes, what the fuck indeed. Remove your hands sir.

    ‘Just popping to the loo,’ I say quickly and pull my other leg free.

God, is the whole journey going to be like this? Thankfully,
I
do manage to doze off, as does Alex and am gratefully relieved when we finally reach Bangkok. Just another hour and we will be in Cambodia. Me in Asia, can you believe it? I know I can’t.

Chapter Twelve

    Alex Bryant is a control freak. He has taken total command of my luggage, my passport and my visa. In fact, I am beginning to think he has taken control of my life.

    ‘Right, we are all sorted. You need to go through passport control yourself,’ he says in an authoritative voice handing me my passport.

    ‘I think I can manage that.’

    ‘Smile, the Cambodians are very pleasant people and use the proper greeting. You’ll offend them if you don’t smile back. And as a sign of respect to someone bow your head slightly with your hands together.’

God, he’s so bossy. A woman behind us visibly swoons and pushing me to one side thrusts her face towards his.

    ‘It’s a thrill to meet you,’ she says breathlessly, edging even closer so her breasts touch his chest. ‘I’ve admired you forever.’

Her push unbalances me and I wobble for a few seconds before regaining my balance. God forbid I should stand in the way of sexual magnetism which I really can’t deny he has, after all, I felt it in the pub didn’t I? Fortunately I am a professional and don’t let personal feelings interfere with my work. Even if Alex Bryant were interested in me I would not allow myself to respond. All right, we all know that someone like Alex Bryant would never look twice at someone like me, hence why he is with model lookalike Penelope who has neat breasts, a flat stomach, not to mention permanently tanned legs that go on forever and teeth like a horse, while I have… Well, best not to go there.

I am still wearing my
thick jumper, not to mention
tights underneath my leggings. I am dressed
for cold wintry England and it must be 30 degrees in here. Stepping off the plane is like walking into an oven. My head aches from tiredness. I cannot help wondering what Toby is doing, or rather where Toby is. With my hand luggage bulging with boxes of tissues and my hair a straggly mess, I trudge towards passport control. The officer is not smiling. I scrape my hair back and tie it into a scrunch and attempt to give him my most winning smile. He does not respond. He is most certainly not one happy Cambodian is he? He barks at me and I look at Alex who is pointing at the floor. I move slightly so my feet are on the sign that reads ‘STAND HERE.’ I sigh and the officer gives me a dirty look. I continue smiling until my face aches. For goodness sake, I’m doing my very best not to offend him but he doesn’t seem to give a fig if he offends me.

    ‘Hond, hond,’ he shouts.

What does
hond
mean?

    ‘Nice to meet you,’ I say in my friendliest voice.

He points to my hands and gives me a cross look. Of course, I’d forgotten the ‘respect’ thing. I clasp my hands together and bow gratefully.

    ‘Thank you so much,’ I say warmly.

    ‘Hond,’ he shouts again.

Jesus, he is a bit intense. What more does he want? I turn to Alex but there is no sign of him. My God, they haven’t arrested him already have they? Perhaps they realised who he was. I hold my hands up in surrender. I’m so hot. I feel sure I will pass out in a minute. He attempts to grab my hand and I step back.

    ‘Look, can you please stop shouting at me,’ I hiss, while continuing to smile and feeling sure my mouth will never return to normal. Where is sodding Alex-
slice-your-tongue-out
-Bryant when I need him?

I turn and see him standing behind me. Thank goodness.

    ‘They want to take your fingerprints.’

    ‘But I haven’t done anything yet. I’m not a criminal.’

    ‘Nobody said you were. It’s standard practice here at passport control.’

    ‘Oh, I thought… I don’t really know what I thought,’ I say in a whisper.

    ‘You’re not a secret agent,’ he says dismissively, making me feel stupid. I suddenly hate him very much. I really don’t need anybody’s help to feel stupid. He talks rapidly in what must be Khmer. Honestly, he thinks he is such a smart bugger. He then ushers me through security and outside into the hot evening air where a driver is waiting with our suitcases. We weave through the sea of taxi drivers, porters and ticket touts each insisting we accept their services. The setting sun paints the airport terminal building a fiery orange. Everyone is shouting and beckoning to us. A row of palm trees line the road where countless motorbikes stream by. The noise from the motorbikes eclipses the shouting of the touts and a smell of hot tarmac and exhaust fumes assaults me.

    ‘As you’re tired we’ll take a taxi to the hotel but in future it is best to use a tuk-tuk.’

I am starting to detest that ‘I know-it-all’ voice of his.

    ‘A
tuk-tuk
?’ It is more of a statement than a question. Of course I know what a
tuk-tuk
is.

    ‘Don’t worry about it,’ he responds tersely, making me feel stupid again.

He signals for me to climb into the taxi and I do so gratefully, collapsing onto the back seat. Within moments he has joined me. I fumble in my bag for the hotel’s address. After inspecting it the driver says in a flat voice,

    ‘I take you for twenty-five dollar.’

I nod, but know-it-all Bryant perks up.

    ‘That seems a lot. There are plenty of taxi drivers, is that the best you can do?’ he argues.

For pity’s sake, I am knackered and he wants to argue over a few dollars?

    ‘It’s fine, I’ll pay. I’m not going to look for another taxi,’ I say forcefully.

    ‘It’s your money but he’s ripping you off,’ he says dismissively.

I let my head flop back. The air conditioning wafts over me and after a cursory glance at Alex, who has also dropped his head back, I allow myself to fall asleep. I figure I can see the sights another night.

Something jolts me awake and for a second I am unsure where I am. I check my Blackberry to see we have been travelling for several hours. Alex’s head is resting on my shoulder and he is sound asleep. His hand is lying on my knee. I take a quick peek at his sleeping face. His superhero guise has taken on a childlike quality. I imagine all that will change when he wakes up. I try to imagine what I must look like and gently remove a mirror from my bag. God, I look like a member of the Addams family. My eyes are black and smudgy. I knew I shouldn’t have worn mascara. The corners of my mouth are crusty and horrid and there is a distinct odour coming from my armpits, or is it Alex Bryant’s arm pit? Stupid Libby as if Alex-
call-me-Indiana-
Bryant actually perspires. His mobile dangles precariously from his other hand and I gently remove it. It vibrates as I do so and a text pops up onto the screen.

‘I am so wishing we could have talked more honey. I’m missing you so much already. You must be at the hotel. Can’t imagine how you are coping with that Lily woman. At least I don’t have any need to be jealous. We’re wrapping everything up here in Beijing tonight. Speak soon. Love you Pen. X’

What a cheek. She can’t even get my name right. I suppose she thinks I am too fat for Alex Bryant to fancy. I stupidly feel tears prick the back of my eyelids. This is ridiculous. I must pull myself together. I am so tired and the hotel seems miles away. We must surely get there soon.

    ‘Hotel?’ queries the driver suddenly.

    ‘Oh good, are we near?’ I ask, attempting to speak as clearly as I can.

    ‘Hotel?’ he asks again.

    ‘Yes please. We are very tired.’

He shrugs and turns the taxi onto a dirt track where we swerve and bump dangerously along. Alex stirs and his hand wanders up my thigh. Surely he is still asleep, or is he pretending to be asleep and making a pass at me? With me looking like I do? I don’t think so. Or he is mistaking me for someone else. My hand brushes his off roughly. He jumps with a start, shouts something incoherent and looks at me like I have just dropped from the sky.

    ‘Ah,’ he says on recognising me.

He stretches lazily and I spy a tiny bit of chest as his shirt rises. God, he is hairy all over. He gives his phone a cursory glance and looks curiously out of the window. The taxi bumps down an even narrower dirt road and finally stops. Alex yawns and strains to see out of the window.

    ‘This isn’t Siem Reap,’ he says casually.

It isn’t? I look out of the window and see nothing but darkness.

    ‘Right, let’s make the best of things, dump our luggage and get some sleep,’ says a bossy Bryant.

The driver helps with the luggage and leads us down a dark road to a building. Jamie could have booked a hotel nearer the town. I expect the rebels are more prominent there though. Best to be safe I suppose. I pull my jumper off and quickly put it back on when I realise the odour is most certainly mine. God it is so hot. We climb a flight of steps and finally enter the foyer of the hotel and any attempt to suppress my gasp is lost. This can’t be right.
I turn to ask the taxi driver if we are in the right place but he is already climbing back into his car. Before I even have time to beckon to him he has gone in a cloud of dust. He has dumped us in the middle of nowhere.

Chapter Thirteen

    I enter the dark inertia only to have Alex pull me back.

    ‘It’s respectful to remove ones shoes.’

I dutifully do so, not wishing to offend anyone. The reception area is a tiny room with deafening air conditioning. Two rickety chairs sit in one corner and a large sink in the other. The floor consists of rough bare boards with a thin scattering of straw. Ahead of us a wrinkled old man stands behind a counter. Tiny chicks scramble around my feet. Oh God, they are pecking me. I’m going to get rabies or something equally as bad. I am so tired I can’t remember what vaccinations I had. A fully grown hen makes clucking noises at me and I let out a tiny sob. Jamie said we were staying in a five star hotel. I can’t imagine what star hotel this is. Minus three I imagine. I want to protest but am speechless. The wrinkled man bows and smiles widely at us as he retrieves our luggage which the taxi driver had dumped outside. With perspiration running down his face, he fills two glasses with water from the rusty tap in the corner of the room, handing one to me and the other to Alex. I watch as Alex throws the liquid back eagerly and then talks in fluent Khmer to the man. What an arrogant arse. I am so thirsty but surely it is dangerous to drink the water here, even more so from a rusty tap. The old man thrusts the glass unmercifully at me, smiling the whole time. Please don’t let me get rabies and cholera my first day. I wonder if Toby will fly out for my funeral. I imagine they will have to bury me right away. They wouldn’t want a cholera epidemic. Toby would be devastated and write a moving obituary. How romantic. Alex will blame himself and vow never to return to Cambodia, and will dedicate his next book to me.

Alex’s weary voice pulls me out of my fantasy.

    ‘He wants to prepare some food for us. I have agreed. It would be disrespectful not to.’

He points to the water.

    ‘I’d drink that if I were you. For some reason they don’t have any bottled water here. I need to phone Jamie as soon as possible. This is not the right hotel, but I’m too tired to do anything now.’

    ‘But I’ll get cholera,’ I protest. ‘Surely the food here won’t be safe?’

    ‘I very much doubt you’ll get cholera.’

    ‘But I…’

    ‘You are the most argumentative woman I have ever had the displeasure of meeting,’ he snaps, his eyes cold and hard.

I gulp and frantically think of a suitable response, but am too tired to do anything but cry. Bugger it. He blinks rapidly and shakes his head.

    ‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I’m very tired. I’ll contact Jamie. In the meantime let’s make the best of things. This chap here is very happy to have us to stay.’

He briefly touches my arm with his hand. I grudgingly accept his apology and swallow some of the water. The old man beckons us to follow him through a doorway and up a rickety ladder. I hesitate for a second and then gingerly make my way up. The last thing I can cope with is Alex snapping at me again. Just wait until I get my hands on Jamie. The man continues to talk incessantly to Alex who answers him fluently. I have to admit I am impressed, but I try not to let my admiration show. I cannot suppress my gasp, however, when we reach the top of the staircase I find myself standing in what can only be described as a run-down attic. It houses a bed with a sheet and pillow on it. The dusty floor is part covered with a coloured rug and in the far corner is a wash basin with a neatly folded towel at the side of it. I stare in horror at the bucket which sits beside it. What is that?

    ‘I see you have the en suite,’ smiles Alex and I fight a desire to push him back down the rickety steps. I attempt to hide my appalled look and with a permanent smile attached to my face I turn to face him.

    ‘Surely, he has a better room than this?’

    ‘Actually, this is his best room, and he is really proud to be giving it to you.’

Christ, I wouldn’t want the worst room in this joint. The old man grins and nods at me. Alex places his hands together and bows gratefully. I follow suit, feeling neither grateful nor happy. He then takes Alex through a beaded curtain and they disappear presumably to Alex’s room. I am having trouble holding back my tears. I am hungry having not eaten much on the plane. I had envisaged a lovely hotel, a hot bath and a dinner with a cool glass of white wine. Okay, I know wine is fattening, but I have barely eaten. Instead, I am contemplating drinking a glass of rust-infested water and a dinner made of God knows what. I have no malaria tablets because I am not supposed to be in a high-risk area but I somehow think I am. What on earth was Jamie thinking of, sending me to Cambodia with a man who seems to have no sense of responsibility whatsoever? I must speak with Jamie tomorrow and impress on him that I cannot possibly stay here with Alex Bryant. It is seriously putting my health at risk. I stare longingly at the water and then with eyes closed and a hand over my nose I throw it back and drink greedily. Oh God, please don’t let me die. Alex dumps my bags in the room and disappears again but not before promising to fetch me for the late dinner. I study the wash basin and am about to call Alex to ask where I go for the water when he returns with a bucket and empties it into the basin.