Coconuts and Wonderbras (18 page)

    ‘Penny was a bit of a surprise. I wasn’t expecting her,’ he says apologetically.

I push a bracelet over my wrist and shake my head dismissively, attempting to look nonchalant. I shake it too much and my earring flies out of my ear. He picks it up and smiles at me.

    ‘All we need is for Toby to come too,’ he grins and looks relieved that I am not too upset.

    ‘Yes, party poopers.’

Did I really say that? He points tactfully to the door.

    ‘Shall we head downstairs for coffee?’

Well, we could head for the bedroom, I think shamelessly. Honestly, I really think the heat has affected me. In fact, I think it has affected me more seriously than I had at first thought. I actually find that once we are in the coffee shop I am not in the least tempted by the cake on offer. That’s a first. Alex orders drinks and leaps into discussion about the book conference that is in two days’ time. I feel I should remind him that I am somewhat jet-lagged, but before I can say anything he is handing me a detailed list of ideas for articles, and asks if I can manage to cover some of them. I freeze the coffee cup halfway to my lips.

    ‘Me? I can’t cover any of those stories,’ I say, astonished he should even ask.

He looks tiredly at me.

    ‘There is a lot there you could cover. You can talk to several of the villagers here about life under this regime. You can get a feel for who supports the rebels and who doesn’t. You can put your own views across. You have strong opinions.’

What a nerve. How dare he tell me what I do or don’t have?

    ‘I don’t, actually. I am not in the least interested in the politics of the country.’

    ‘I think you are,’ he argues, casually spooning sugar into his coffee. ‘I think you are well aware that the government is the problem here.’

    ‘It was the rebels who came after us.’

Why am I arguing with him? It is obvious he will win, he always does, damn him.

    ‘But under whose orders? You know how to write a balanced article, which is more than your boyfriend does.’

Why does he have to keep doing this? Just as I was beginning to like him he criticises Toby all over again.

    ‘Why are you always so negative about Toby’s writing?’ I snap, trying not to bang my cup down.

    ‘Probably because it is near impossible to be positive about it,’ he snaps back.

Right that’s it. I really can’t be party to this annihilation of Toby’s work. I stand up angrily and grab my shawl from the back of the chair.

    ‘Enjoy your dinner this evening. I shall see you in the morning when hopefully you will be in a less critical and damning mood,’ I say and march from the coffee shop and back to my room, except I get all the way to my room before I remember I need the key. Sod it. I begin the walk back downstairs and come face to face with him. He is holding my key and smiling. I do not smile back. He is so damn arrogant if he thinks I am over it already.

    ‘You certainly are hot headed,’ he says, making it sound like a compliment.

I take the key and turn from him.

    ‘You’re more than welcome to join us for dinner this evening. Won’t you change your mind?’

Oh, I’m sure Penelope would be thrilled if I did.

    ‘Thank you, but I would much prefer to get room service.’

Like hell I would. He looks concerned for a minute and cocks his head slightly.

    ‘You’re not thinking of getting out are you?’

He makes it sound like a prison break out. I simply shrug.

    ‘If you do, and I am not for one minute suggesting that you should, remember the people here will always try to please. They may say they know where you want to go but more often than not they don’t.’

    ‘I’m quite happy to have room service,’ I repeat.

He shrugs, flashes that wide arrogant grin of his and wanders back down the corridor to his own room. Well, honestly. He could have attempted to change my mind. Now, what the hell am I going to do about dinner? I miserably enter my room and sit by the window staring at my Blackberry, trying to get up the courage to turn it on. In the street below things are getting busy and several tuk-tuk drivers look up at me and wave. The temptation to go into the town and have a look around is overwhelming me. I get a burst of courage and decide I will. I turn on my Blackberry and feel a bit deflated to see Toby has not left a message. He has tried to call but no text or voicemail. God, I hope that doesn’t mean he is on a flight. That’s all I need. I decide it is time to take the bull by the horns, or in this case, the tuk-tuk. I make an effort to walk confidently from the hotel lobby, making sure my shawl is covering my shoulders, and am mobbed by a group of tuk-tuk drivers. If only it were this easy to get a taxi back home.

    ‘Lady, where you want to go,’ asks one, winking at me.

    ‘I take you to temples, good price,’ calls another.

    ‘You want to go to Pub Street for nice dinner?’ asks the first driver.

Heavens, is he asking me out? I know he isn’t, of course and accept his offer of a ride.

    ‘I want to go to Angkor market,’ I say climbing up into the tuk-tuk.

The tuk-tuk is an amazing way to travel. Although how the thing can stay upright is beyond me.

    ‘You want hotel?’ he asks turning around to look at me.

Didn’t I just say the market? Why do I feel I can’t go anywhere without Alex Bryant?

    ‘No, I want to go to the market please.’

His face lights up.

    ‘Ah, Hotel Market. That two dollar. You tell me where is Hotel Market?’

Oh dear.

    ‘I’ll go to Pub Street,’ I say resignedly. Hopefully there will be somewhere to eat there.

It is very humid and I am grateful for the cool breeze that the speed of the tuk-tuk brings. On several occasions I feel sure he is going to collide with other tuk-tuks and cling onto my seat for dear life. I never imagined I would be travelling through a city on a motorised rickshaw. I have to say it is very exciting. We pass a river, a small monastery and several people carting heavy goods on their backs. As we get closer to the city I feel a tremor of excitement. As we enter the busy centre I spy craft shops and several open markets. I see the lovely jewellery and beautiful shawls. I remind myself I must look for something for mother and Issy before going home. Siem Reap is a mass of colour and smells and I feel energised by the vibrancy of the place. I have no idea what ‘Pub Street’ is, or where it is, but I am deposited in a street full of restaurants, people and music. I feel exhilarated. The colours and smells are evocative. I wander along looking at menus and fighting off tuk-tuk drivers. I find myself glancing sheepishly inside the restaurants to see if Alex is there with Penny but I realise it is probably quite early for them. I push my way past begging children and stroll down a quiet lane where shawls and purses are being sold. I study them for a while and then tire of fighting off the endless demands from an assistant to buy her goods. I enter a small eating establishment and order myself a coffee and a slice of banana cake. I feel quite liberated. A young girl tries to sell me some postcards. I am sorely tempted but refuse after vaguely remembering something Alex had written in a piece for the
New York Times
about street beggars in Asia. Okay, I admit to reading some of his stuff. I am just relaxing over my coffee when my phone rings. It is Toby. I reluctantly answer. I might as well get it over and done with.

    ‘Have you gone out of your mind?’ he bellows. ‘Your phone has been off for hours. You can’t expect me to phone you all the hours God sends.’

    ‘I didn’t ask you to phone me at all,’ I respond huffily.

I wonder if Penelope is snogging the life out of Alex.

    ‘Libby, don’t you love me any more?’

Oh God, now there’s a million dollar question.

    ‘Where is Serena?’ I say feeling the pain again, as I picture them at the Christmas party.

    ‘I only want you, Libs,’ he says in a soppy voice.

He does? Oh, well that’s okay then. Honestly, just what kind of a pushover does he think I am?

    ‘I can fly out if you want me to. I can probably get some time off.’

What? Didn’t he tell me he was going to the airport? What does he mean he can get some time off?

    ‘I thought you
were
going to the airport this morning.’

There is silence.

    ‘Toby?’

    ‘On the web it advises not to go to Cambodia unless it is absolutely necessary. Obviously, I’ll come if you want me to.’

Oh, obviously.

    ‘No, it is fine, Toby. I’ll text you tomorrow.’

I hang up and push my sunglasses on so no one can see I am crying and quickly pay. What a bastard. He had no intention of coming at all. Why did I ever believe he would? He’s not missing me at all. He just hates the thought of me being with someone else. I am such a fool when it comes to men. I walk angrily down a small deserted alley wondering where the tuk-tuk drivers are now that I want one. I realise I am the only one walking through the narrow pathway and feel a slight panic. Why did I come through here? I walk a bit quicker when I see the opening into the busy streets and lots of tuk-tuks. Oh, thank goodness. I am almost there when a man jumps out of an entrance. I let out a small shriek and wave my arms at him. He smiles at me and walks past. What is wrong with me? It’s that bloody Alex-
we-have-a-situation
-Bryant who has put the wind up me, telling me we have been compromised and all that rubbish about being ‘good negotiation material’ or whatever he called it. I can see a tuk-tuk driver now and decide it may be better to go back and order room service. I feel lonely and tearful. I am almost at the entrance when a lady pops her head out of a side window and calls me.

    ‘Lady, there is a phone call for you.’

A phone call for me, that can’t be right.

    ‘No, it can’t be for me…’ I begin stupidly, but before I have time to think, she has gone, and someone is grabbing me from behind and throwing something over my head. Oh, Jesus, famous last words or what. I am being sodding kidnapped and I am buggered if I can remember any of the codes.

Chapter Seventeen

    ‘Help, help,’ I scream but it comes out all muffled and strange. My heart is hammering like mad.

Whoever has grabbed me is being very gentle. I try to calm down. I try to think of what Alex would do. I guess he would slice out their tongues with a penknife. I don’t care what he would do I just wish he was here instead of snogging Lady Penelope. Of all the times to get kidnapped, I do it when Alex Bryant is snogging the life out of his fiancée.

    ‘I really am no good to you,’ I cry. ‘No one will pay the ransom. No one cares enough,’ I say feeling very sorry for myself.

    ‘You stay quiet and we not hurt you,’ responds a deep voice in broken English.

Okay, whatever you do, don’t think about kidnapped journalists. Of course, that makes me think of John McCarthy and Brian Keenan. No, don’t think about them. In fact, don’t think at all. Oh Lord, I am far too young to be beheaded. I remind myself the Cambodians are Buddhists and beheading is surely against their religion or must at least be bad karma or something. I am gently but firmly pushed into a car, and I wonder if the tuk-tuk drivers saw anything. I hope Alex thinks to ask them. I also hope my parents have enough money to pay the ransom. God, what if they want a million dollars or something? I wonder if Jamie has insurance for this kind of thing. What am I thinking? Alex is his biggest client and I don’t imagine he foresaw this. Oh this is so not good. I have a hideous journey in the car with lots of bumps and my nose pressed against a horribly smelly seat. I hear two of them talking in Khmer and wonder how many more of them there are. It is all very frightening and I am trying hard not to cry. What if I never get home? At least I will lose plenty of weight. I am thinking the oddest of things. I must stay positive. Alex will rescue me by using my Wonderbra to break me out and capture the kidnappers in one movement. What on earth am I thinking? This can’t be real. I am probably dreaming and will wake up in a minute and find myself back at the hotel room. How wrong can I be? The car stops with a shudder and I am bundled out. I take deep breaths and tell myself all will be well. It will be all over the news and I’ll probably be released and back to the hotel in time for breakfast. Trust me to think of food at a time like this. The thing over my head is removed and I blink and see two men standing in front of me. I must say they look fairly harmless. I don’t see any guns. I’m in what looks like a barn. It is so hot and perspiration drips down my neck where it runs from my hair. A mobile phone is thrust into my hand.

    ‘Call Mr Alex and you tell him you need him come get you, tell him you lost.’

The man speaking is trying to sound mean but he looks as soft as a teddy bear. He bangs his hand on a table like the bad cop in a low-budget film. They obviously don’t know Alex Bryant if they think he will just pop out and find me because I have got myself lost. With shaking hands I call him.

    ‘Alex Bryant.’ He answers on the first ring.

I have never been more grateful to hear his voice.

    ‘It’s me,’ I say in an unnatural high-pitched voice.

I can hear music in the background and the sound of people shouting. He must be out with Penelope. Oh dear, she will not be pleased to be disturbed.

    ‘Libby is that you? Hi, where are you? Are you coming to join us?’ he asks cheerfully.

If only I could say yes that I would love to join them.

    ‘I’m lost,’ I say flatly. When what I really want to yell is
I’ve been kidnapped and I’m sure they are going to behead me. You’ve got to do something…

    ‘What do you mean? Is everything okay?’

He sounds concerned and I feel all warm inside to think he is worried about me.

    ‘Yes, but I’m lost,’ I try to think of a code to let him know I have been compromised. If only I had paid more attention in the boat and taken his crazy codes more seriously.