What I did on my Holiday

‘Gosh, is it that time already?’ I say, pretending to look atmy watch. ‘I really must be getting to bed.’ ‘Don’t be silly,’ Zoe says, ‘I was only joking….’ ‘I know. But I can see what’s going to happen next. Eliseis going to own up to having had her clit pierced and I reallydon’t think I could stand that much excitement in one night.Besides, it really is rather late. Harry and Connie havealready gone to bed. I think I’ll do the same. Early start in themorning.’ ‘Mike is right,’ Elise says, belatedly blushing crimson in thecandlelight. ‘We should be going to our bed. It is very late.’Jan quickly agrees and they leave hand in hand. Zoe remains seated. She looks up at me with a blank gazethat I can’t read, then shrugs. ‘Sure,’ she says. ‘You go off tobed. I think I’ll wait for Seb to get back with the beer. Wastenot want not, you know?’ * 200

20 Inside the sleeping hut it’s dark, as Charlie predicted, butpale moonlight filters through the walls here and there, provid-ing just enough light for me to make out the shapes of sleepingbodies. I remove my shoes and crawl across the sleeping plat-form towards a bulky shadow that I take to be my pack. Fromthe far side of the room I hear a whispered conversation, Janand Elise discussing the turn of events no doubt. It feels odd going to bed when there is no actual bed: nocovers or duvet, no pillow, just a floor on which to lie downfully dressed and try to sleep. I consider taking off my trousersand realize for the first time how cold the night has become.Sebastian was right: a blanket doesn’t sound such a bad idea.Reluctantly I reach out and draw the heavy blanket and thecruddy pillow towards me. I lie on my side and, resisting theurge to sniff it first, pull the blanket over me. Gingerly I placemy cheek on the pillow, feeling the roughness of its fabricagainst my face, but at least I now feel as though I’m in bed. Idecide to remove my trousers after all, and my socks, but theunderpants and t-shirt stay. I roll onto my back and cross my arms under my head,staring at the invisible ceiling, my mind too busy to sleep yet. I wonder what Seb and Zoe are talking about outside: thesize of his dick probably, if Zoe is choosing the topic of con-versation. So long as she’s only talking about it…I decide notto go there, forcing my mind onto other things. 201

I wonder what the lads are doing in Pattaya right now. Witha start I realize that it’s only about eleven p.m. They’ll be in abar somewhere, having another round, eyeing up the girls andmaybe making plans to go to a club later. For them the night isstill young. They’ll have done nothing more exhausting todaythan shag their girls and lift pint mugs. I try to picture theirfaces: Benny, Ray, John, Mean Bob. It’s hard to believe it’sonly been a few days since I was with them. Perhaps Ted andAnna are already in bed, lying chastely side by side, unable toconsummate their short, sad relationship. If only they could all see me now. The room has grown quiet. I can hear someone snoring,though I can’t tell who. I decide privately that it must be Harryor Jan, giving the ladies the benefit of the doubt. I’m just slipping over the edge of sleep when I hear a slightcreaking noise and feel, rather than hear, Zoe arrive beside me.I have no idea how long I’ve been in bed. A flurry of limbs tells me she’s undressing then her slim,naked body arrives under the blanket, pressing itself tightly tomy side. Her hand slips across my stomach and inspects mygroin, running over the outside of my underpants then divingstraight in. My whole body stiffens at the unexpected actionbut a certain part of me stiffens more than most and I heara little grunt of approval from Zoe. She begins to move herhand rhythmically, her head pressed tightly against my chest,a curtain of red hair hiding her face. For a minute or so I lie onmy back, feeling Zoe’s slight weight pressing against my side,enjoying the motion of her hand until, with a sudden pang ofguilt, I realize that I should be returning the favour. I run myhand down her naked belly and slip it between her thighs. In total silence we stroke and fondle, the movementsbecoming more urgent with each passing minute, but I can’tshift the worrying thought that someone else in the hut may 202

not be asleep. Could they hear us at this distance? I have myteeth clenched to prevent any sound escaping and I struggle tocontrol my breathing but I suspect the very absence of soundsemanating from our corner screams illicit activity. The small creak of the door opening reaches my strainingears and I tense, my free hand moving downwards of its ownaccord to wrap itself over Zoe’s, applying just enough pressureto stop her frantic movements. She gets the message and forseveral seconds we lie totally still, holding our breath, listen-ing intently to catch any tiny sound. The soft pad of naked feeton earth reaches us. Seb is finally making his way to bed. To my consternation, Zoe roughly pushes my hand awayand resumes her tugging at my cock. I want to protest butdaren’t even whisper. Angrily she squirms her body against myfingertips, demanding that I resume my former actions. WhenI hesitate, she squeezes my dick hard enough to make me bitemy lip to prevent a squeal of pain emerging. Reluctantly Ibegin to move my hand once more, my fingers slipping wetlyin her groin. Her breathing is getting louder now, coming inshort gasps as she approaches her climax. I feel sure that Sebmust be able to hear her, and then the thought flicks across mymind that perhaps that’s the point. With a high pitched whistling sound, like a muted kettle,Zoe comes, her body arching, hips pushing against my finger-tips, and a moment later, to my relief, I join her. Unfortunately,the effort I’m making to climax in silence sends me into aspasm of coughing and Zoe releases her death grip on me androlls over, as though giving me room to breathe. When the fit has passed I wait for her to turn back aroundbut she doesn’t. Her breathing is deep and regular and I realizethat she’s already asleep. 203

Two hours later I’m still awake. My mind is fretting, trying to make sense of Zoe’s suddenmood changes. I’ve only known her for a couple of days, butduring the short time we spent together in Bangkok our rela-tionship had seemed effortless. Now, it seems altogether toocomplicated. Finally, I slip out from under the blanket and pad softly tothe door. I’m still wearing only my underpants and tee-shirt,but I don’t expect anyone to see me. Outside, I perch on the wooden steps of the sleeping hut andlisten to the night sounds emanating from the forest. The dark-ness is thick, full of strangeness. Heavy clouds scud across themoon, bearing tomorrow’s monsoon rains, like overnight PostOffice vans carrying the morning mail. ‘Mind if I join you?’ Sebastian whispers close to my ear. ‘Jesus! You made me jump.’ ‘Sorry.’ He slips onto the step beside me. I shuffle over tomake room and we sit shoulder-to-shoulder in the narrowdoorway. ‘Can’t sleep?’ he says. I shake my head. ‘I’m tired enough…exhausted in fact…butit all feels so strange, to be here, in the middle of the rainfor-est, in a bamboo hut with all these people.’ He nods as though he understands. ‘How about you?’ I ask. ‘Doesn’t bother me. I can sleep anyplace. But I had a night-mare. Woke me up.’ ‘A nightmare? What about?’ ‘Don’t know. I never remember my dreams.’ He grins at me.‘Not even the wet ones.’ He pulls out his tobacco pouch andbegins to roll a cigarette. ‘Have one of these.’ I say, offering my packet of MarlboroLights. ‘No thanks. I’m used to these. Can’t taste those things 204

anymore. I like my nicotine unfiltered.’ ‘If you say so.’ I take a quick count of my remaining cig-arettes before slipping them into my pocket. ‘Only five leftanyway,’ I say. ‘I’ve got one more pack and then there’s nomore until we get back to civilisation.’ ‘Hey man, if you need tobacco…’ ‘No, it’s okay. I seem to be smoking less out here anyway.’ ‘Okay. That’s cool. But if you ever run out…’ ‘Thanks. I’ll remember.’ We seem to have run out of chit chat, so we just sit andsmoke and stare into the darkness. ‘You know,’ I say. ‘I still can’t quite believe I’m here. Ifanyone had told me a week ago that I’d be sitting smoking afag by moonlight in the middle of the rainforest, I’d have toldthem they were mad.’ ‘How come you’re here then?’ ‘Zoe. She was already headed this way. I just tagged along.’ ‘So…you two haven’t been together very long?’ ‘All of three days.’ He nods as though this information is significant. I considertelling him straight out that if he wants her, he can have her,but then I realise that he doesn’t need my permission. Andmore to the point, neither does Zoe. I decide to change thesubject. ‘So how long have you been travelling?’ I ask. ‘More than ten years.’ ‘That’s a long time. When are you going back?’ He looks at me with genuine surprise. ‘Back? Never, man.I’m never going back.’ ‘That’s what Zoe said about Australia.’ ‘Of course. She’s a free spirit, like me.’ ‘I guess that makes me some kind of boring old stick-in-the-mud?’ 205

‘You don’t have to be. Just don’t go back. Keep travelling.’ No,’ I say, shaking my head. ‘I have to go back. I have ajob, a flat…people depend on me.’ I give a hollow laugh. ‘My cat would miss me.’ ‘Wife and kids?’ ‘No. But I still have responsibilities.’ ‘Responsibilities are shit man. Who needs ‘em. Travel light,travel fast, that’s what I say. It’s a big world out there. Whystay in one little place all your life?’ ‘You make it sound so easy.’ ‘It is easy. You pack a bag, you go.’ ‘Sure. And what do you live on?’ ‘There’s ways, if you know how. But you’ve got to be pre-pared to give up the so-called luxuries, you know? Fast cars,fancy hotels, all that shit.’ ‘I wouldn’t need to give them up. I don’t have them to startwith. I live a pretty simple life already.’ ‘So what’s stopping you?’ ‘Stopping me what?’ ‘Packing a bag and going for it.’ I shake my head again, smiling at the thought of just takingoff. ‘I couldn’t. I’m not like you and Zoe. I guess I’m simplynot the adventurous type. I wouldn’t be able to survive on myown in a place like this.’ ‘You wouldn’t be alone,’ he points out. ‘You’ve got Zoe.’ ‘Maybe. But…well, to be honest, Zoe and I aren’t really…we’re not…I mean…shit, I don’t know what I mean exactly.’ He nods. ‘I understand,’ he says. ‘That’s how it goes whenyou’re traveling. You meet someone, you hang together fora while, then you go your separate ways. It’s the backpackerway.’ ‘I suppose so. But it feels strange to me. At home, if I meta girl I liked, I’d want to get to know her. I’d expect….well, 206

I suppose I’d expect it to develop into a relationship, if wefound we liked each other enough.’ ‘Relationships tie you down. You don’t need them.’ ‘Perhaps, but, traveling alone like you do, don’t you everget lonely?’ He shrugs. ‘Maybe, sometimes. But you meet people, youknow? Like you and Zoe. And then, when you want to bealone again, you move on.’ ‘Just like that?’ ‘Sure. I mean, if you were to leave Zoe, just tell her you’dhad enough and you wanted to go your own way, you thinkshe’d care? Hell, she has her own agenda. She’d soon findsome other guy to share her bed and buy her meals.’ I find myself feeling aggrieved at his characterisation of myrelationship with Zoe. All the more so because it happens to beaccurate. ‘That’s a rather cynical point of view, isn’t it?’ ‘Just being realistic, man. It’s not like you love her or any-thing, is it?’ ‘No…’ ‘So, if she found someone else and went off, you’d hardlybe broken hearted, would you?’ ‘No.’ ‘There you are then. You mean nothing to her and shemeans nothing to you. You’ve got to be true to yourself. Forgetother people. They have their own destiny. You’ve got to gofind yours.’ ‘Perhaps,’ I say. ‘But right now, I need to go find somesleep. I won’t be able to get out of bed in the morning, muchless trek, if I don’t get a few hours sleep.’ ‘Okay. But think about what I said. Don’t let other peopletie you down. Be a free spirit. Yeah?’ I climb carefully back onto the sleeping platform and lie 207

down beside Zoe. Her back is turned towards me and herbreathing is slow and deep but for some reason I feel sureshe’s not asleep. ‘Zoe,’ I whisper softly near her ear, but she doesn’t move. I lie back and feel the aches and pains of muscles subjectedto unfamiliar work. I’m still replaying my conversation with Sebastian andwondering what Zoe might have made of it had she overheard,when sleep overtakes me. * 208

21 I awake to the sound of pigs grunting in the sty next door. I open my eyes and shut them again quickly. Sunlight isslanting through the gaps in the bamboo wall and I’m lyingwith my face in one of the bright beams. I move a little to myleft and open my eyes again. Much better. I roll onto my sideand inspect the room. The space beside me is empty. Zoe is gone, and her packlikewise. I wonder briefly why she didn’t wake me. Almosteveryone else has gone as well. Just one sleeping shaperemains, partly wrapped in a blanket. From its position in theroom I conclude it must be Connie. As full consciousness gradually returns I wonder what timeit is. Then I wonder where the others are. Breakfast, presuma-bly. The heat has returned to the room and the heavy blanketfeels oppressive. I begin to push it away from me but then Irealize with a start that I’m naked from the waist down. I thinkfuzzily about last night. I don’t remember removing my un-derpants. For a crazy moment I wonder whether Zoe removedthem while I slept to use my body to satisfy her needs, but thatseems too bizarre. I feel around under the blanket until I locatethem and slip them on. Throwing caution to the wind I divestmyself of the blanket and climb stiffly to my feet. I stretch and yawn. The big room looks somehow cleanerand friendlier in the morning light. I glance over once more at 209

Connie’s sleeping figure, then do a double take. She’s lying on her side, facing towards me. A black maskcovers her eyes, the sort they give you on airplanes to help yousleep while the cabin lights are on. Her mouth hangs slightlyopen but her body is still. A dark grey blanket, brother to theone I used last night, winds itself around her body, cover-ing parts and revealing others. One heavy breast rests on thebamboo floor, one long tan leg projects from the lower endof the blanket, naked to the thigh. I can’t quite see…is thatshadow or….? Suddenly I feel guilty, standing here ogling this semi nakedsleeping woman. I tell myself to move, to turn around and getdressed but my legs don’t respond. My eyes are locked on thatbreast. I want to move closer, to get a better look, but my legswon’t do that either. I stand locked in position by guilt andlust. Jesus, what if someone came in right now and found mestaring like this? With an effort of will, I turn around and busy myself withmy pack, locating clean underwear, shorts, socks and tee-shirt.Quickly I change my clothes, glancing guiltily at the sleepingform as though she might in turn be spying on my own naked-ness. Dressed and ready for the day, I bend to pick up my packbut my eyes slide once more to the far end of the room. If I were to walk just a few paces… ‘Get out of here you bloody fool,’ I mutter under my breathand, slinging the pack over one shoulder, I push my waythrough the door and out into the hot sunlight. ‘Connie still asleep?’ Harry asks me. ‘I didn’t notice,’ I say, the guilt squirming within me. ‘I justwoke up. Can’t see straight yet.’ Harry chuckles. ‘You did have quite a lot to drink last night, 210

Mike.’ ‘Yeah, that’ll be it. Where are the others?’ ‘They had breakfast then went for a look around the village.They’ll be back soon. I’d best go wake sleeping beauty.’ Harry heads off to the sleeping hut and I decide to take awalk. I can imagine what will run through his mind when hesees the state of his wife and I don’t want to have to meet hisgaze until I can be sure of keeping the guilt out of my eyes. I take the nearest exit from the square and follow a muddyroad that winds gently between thatched houses. Smaller lanes,really just muddy tracks between houses, branch off every sooften and down one of these I espy Zoe. She’s about fifty feetaway. ‘Morning,’ I call, and she looks round. She stares at me fora second, her expression blank, then turns away and disappearsfrom sight. ‘Shit,’ I mutter. Somehow, for no reason I can fathom, I appear to be in herbad books again. I briefly consider following her and demand-ing an explanation, but I haven’t got the stomach for a row thisearly in the morning. With a heart felt sigh, I continue on myway. The further I travel from the village centre, the poorer thehousing becomes. Within a couple of hundred yards, I come tothe last house and look out over the surrounding fields. AgainI‘m struck with the odd familiarity of the landscape. I feel itshould be dramatically different from home, and it is, but itisn’t. The fields just look like fields, the trees like trees. I turnand look back along the street and it strikes me that the build-ings look far more foreign than the surrounding countryside.Here at the fringe of the village most of the dwellings are littlemore than lean-to shacks, roofed with rusty corrugated iron. A small child stands in a doorway, its eyes wide and its 211

mouth open in astonishment, watching me as though I’msomething completely beyond its ken. I wave tentativelyat the child and it lets out a little cry before being yankedback indoors by a plump brown arm. I realise that I’m beingwatched. Deep in the shadows behind these glass-less, cur-tain-less windows, people are shrinking back, waiting for therich farang to tire of peering at their poverty before they canemerge and go about their daily tasks. Embarrassed, I quickly move on, further along the trackuntil I’m some way from the village. I stop and smoke a cigarette. It’s nice to be away fromeveryone, but I’m aware that I don’t know what time we’ll besetting off this morning and I don’t want to hold everyone up. Igrind the butt of my cigarette under my heel and start back theway I came. Somewhere I take a wrong turn and find myself on adifferent track winding its way through the jungle. I’m notoverly worried. My sense of direction is pretty good and I getthe feeling that sooner or later this track will lead back to thevillage, so I press on. I stop when I hear the noise up ahead. It sounds like someone running through the undergrowth,laboured breathing and thrashing leaves, though I can’t makeout any footfalls. I stand like a statue, poised for fight or flight, waiting for aperson, or perhaps an animal, to appear along the track, but noone does. The noises continue but now I recognise a humancomponent in them. Not voices exactly, but sounds made byhuman throats. A suspicion begins to grow in me and withoutquite meaning to, I find myself edging forwards, closer to thesource of the noise. I arrive at the edge of a small clearing. I’m still concealedbehind the foliage that fringes the litte open area, but the scene 212

that greets me makes me quickly duck behind a tree trunk. I don’t think they noticed me. They were, lets face it, a little busy. In a world of their own,you might say. I’m sitting with my back to the trunk, safely out of sight butafraid to move in case I step on a twig or something and makemy presence known. While I wait for my breathing to return tonormal, I close my eyes and replay what I saw. Elise was bent over a fallen tree trunk, her shorts andknickers pulled down behind her knees. In each hand she wasgripping a branch which shook with her movements, the leavesthrashing about, producing the crashing foliage noise I hadinterpreted as a body running through the forest. The pantingsound was coming from Jan, who was standing behind her,his sweat drenched face turned up towards the overhangingcanopy, his eyes closed tight and his mouth hanging open as hethrust himself into her. I can still hear them, Jan’s laboured breathing soundinglike someone sawing wood, and a series of small grunts fromElise, a sort of ‘Ooof’ sound, emerging from her lips with eachpowerful thrust of his loins. I want to get the hell out of here, back along the way Icame, but I daren’t risk it. It would be embarassing all roundif they knew I’d stumbled upon them , and we have to spendanother forty eight hours together. Better by far that I waituntil they finish. It sounds like a good plan, but ten minutes later, I’m begin-ning to wonder. I remember thinking when I first met them that the Dutchcouple looked scarily fit. I suppose it’s only natural that theirsexual activities should be more than averagely vigorous.But this is getting ridiculous. As far as I can tell they haven’taltered their position. Elise is still prostrated over the log 213

and Jan is still pumping away as though he’s looking to winsome sort of endurance record. Their groans and moans haveremained at the same volume and intensity so it seems thatneither is close to climaxing. How long can they keep this up? Part of my mind is worried about keeping the otherswaiting, but the rest of it is concerned with what’s happeningin my trousers. It’s hard to listen to people having sex withoutgetting a bit aroused yourself. When another five minutes goes by without any sign ofactivities coming to a head, I make the decision to take thematter into my own hands, so to speak. I carefully unbuttonmy fly and release my bulging member from his confinement.He’s pleased to see the light of day and rears up happily, slip-ping into my palm as though it’s the most natural thing in theworld. I don’t have Jan’s stamina so I’m finished well before myDutch friend. I’m trying to find a suitable leaf to wipe myself off withwhen I notice that the sounds from the clearing have finallystopped. I didn’t hear any joyous cries of sexual ecstasy, but Iwas a bit distracted with my own sexual ecstasy for a momentthere, so I probably just missed them. I’m just happy that they’ve finished and will now presuma-bly head back to the village. But then the thought occurs to me: what if they take thepath I used to get here? They would pass within six feet of meand they couldn’t help but notice the guy sitting behind a treewith his rapidly shrinking member in his hand. It doesn’t bearthinking about! But its okay. I hear footsteps heading the other way and I letmy breath out in a sigh of relief. I give them five minutes to get well clear of the area, standup and button my fly, check the front of my shorts for any 214

embarassing traces of semen then, satisifed, I follow the pathtaken by the Dutch Sex Marathon Team. As I near the village I pass a house I didn’t notice on theway out. And I would have noticed it. It looks for all the worldlike one of the whitewashed bungalows that squat in theirthousands along the south coast of England. Neat and clean,it sports the only tiled roof I’ve seen in the village, with glassin the windows and a cultivated garden running all the wayround. In the drive stands a smart, red four-wheel drive truck,and a satellite dish graces the roof. This has to be the house of the head man, and I wonder fora moment how anyone could live in such relative opulencewhile his tribe live in such abject poverty. I guess family tiesdon’t count for as much as power and money, anywhere in theworld. As I head back to the square, I can’t help thinking howlucky it is that Connie didn’t see the truck last night. She’d have insisted Harry buy it and drive her out of here. It’s ten a.m. and we’ve been on the move for an hour. Withless than four hours sleep behind me I’m feeling pretty groggy,but the fresh air and exercise are helping. The scenery, as wepenetrate deeper into the forest, is becoming more and morebreath-taking. I should be enjoying myself, but my mind is troubled. Ican’t figure out why Zoe hasn’t said a single word to me sincewe woke up. The path we’re on is broader than yesterday’s, allowing ourparty to walk in twos. I tried to take advantage of this fact tochat with her, but each time I began to speak she shrugged myenquiries away. On the third attempt, she picked up her paceand overtook Harry and Connie, stationing herself near the 215

front with Por, the younger of the native guides. I gave up thenand concentrated on marching. Sebastian is behind me, bringing up the rear with Charlie,the two in animated conversation about something, Seb’shands as always fluttering as he speaks. He looks refreshedand full of energy even though he must have had even lesssleep than me. Just ahead of me, Jan and Elise are walking together, handin hand. I realise I’m thinking of them differently now, afterstumbling upon them this morning. I remember yesterday,when we first met, judging them just a little too twee for mytaste, but after last night’s display of tattooos and nipple rings,and their sex session in the woods, I realise I wasn’t doingthem justice. In front of me, Connie trudges along, looking as thoughshe’s sleepwalking. When I said ‘Good morning‘ to herat breakfast, her reply was an incomprehensible mumble.‘Valium,’ Harry whispered to me a moment later. ‘She took acouple to help her sleep. I’ve had to hide the bottle.’ He’s walking beside his wife now, already sweating pro-fusely and puffing from the exertion of the hike. Every fewseconds he casts a watchful eye towards Connie and lays asteadying hand on her elbow to keep her from straying off thetrack. That leaves Zoe and Por, leading the pack and setting astrenuous pace. I know from experience that Por’s English istoo basic to hold a decent conversation with him. I wonderidly why Zoe is making the effort, then it dawns on me. I’mnot the only one in her bad books. She didn’t speak a word toSeb at breakfast either. What he may have done to offend her Idon’t know. Perhaps she’s angry at his overhearing us having sex lastnight. But that doesn’t make sense, does it? She appeared to 216

make a particular effort to let him hear. Whatever her reason,he is clearly not her favourite person at the moment, a fact thatseems to be worrying him not at all. So now I think I get why she’s up front with Por. Her feelings for Connie were made abundantly clear on thefirst day, and neither Jan nor Elise are her type of person. WithSeb and I both apparently in the doghouse, that leaves onlyHarry, Connie and the guides. Harry is busy looking after his wife and Charlie is with Sebso Por, by default as it were, becomes her new best chum. Jesus, this girl sure knows how to make enemies. Antherday of this and she’ll have to talk to the trees. I stop for a moment to get my breath back. Charlie gives mean enquiring look but I wave him on. ‘I’m fine,’ I say. ‘I justwant to stop for a moment. I’ll catch you up.’ Charlie looks uncertain, but Seb tells him he’ll join me andCharlie seems to accept that, in Seb’s company, I’ll be safe. Hewalks on and we watch our little party wind its way round thenext bend. I pull out my Marlboro Lights and offer them to Seb, re-ceiving the expected shake of his head. As I light up and puffaway, he unbuttons his fly and takes out his dick. ‘Jesus, Seb!’ I say, as he begins to spray the surroundingplants with a jet of urine. ‘Don’t worry,’ he says, laughing, ‘They’re well ahead.’ I grunt doubtfully and turn my back to give him the privacyhe didn’t bother to take for himself, but I can hear the waterspattering on the leaves and feel my heart still beating fastfrom the shock of seeing him pull that thing out all of asudden. Seeing that monster twice in two days is definitely notgood for my ego. . After a moment, the sound stops and I give him time tobutton up before turning around once more. The plants are 217

steaming in the heat and a long trickle of piss runs slowlyacross the path. I move a little further away as Sebastian rollshimself a fag. ‘You look like a man with woman problems,’ he suggests,with a half-smile. ‘It would appear so,’ I sigh. ‘though I’m fucked if I knowwhy.’ ‘Don’t sweat it man. She’ll come round. Just give her somespace. She’ll tell you what you did when she’s ready.’ ‘I suppose so.’ He watches me for a moment, the half smile still hoveringon his face, then shakes his head and gives a little laugh. ‘What’s so funny?’ I ask. He steps a couple of paces off the track and places one handon the trunk of a tree. ‘Look at this tree, Mike. What do yousee? I give him the look a man gives to the village idiot. ‘A tree?’I suggest. ‘Sure. What do you think of it?’ ‘It’s…very nice. I suppose. As trees go.’ ‘Okay. Now look at it again. But this time imagine it’s apainting of a tree, hanging in some gallery somewhere. Frameit in your mind. It’s a painting, okay?’ I sigh, prepared to play along for just a little longer. ‘Okay.It’s a painting,’ I tell him. ‘No it’s not. It’s still a tree. You’re not really trying Mike!’ I sigh again but obey. I squint hard and try to block out therest of our surroundings, just concentrating on the tree beforeme. ‘Okay. Now it’s a painting,’ I tell him. ‘So, what do you think of this painting of a tree Mike?’ ‘It’s…very good. Very lifelike.’ ‘Good? It’s fantastic Mike. Just look at the detail. You feel 218

you could just reach out and touch it. And the colours…they’reamazing. Did you ever realise how many shades of brownthere are? Or green. And look at those leaves, the way the lightseems to shine right through them. Isn’t that just astoundinglybeautiful?’ And of course it is, now that I come to really look at it. ‘Butit’s not a painting,’ I point out. ‘You’re right!’ he cries suddenly, startling me. His face isaglow with surprise and delight. I’m beginning to wonder whatthe hell he’s on. ‘No, look. You’re right, Mike. It’s not a painting…it’s asculpture! Look, it has three dimensions. It goes all the wayround and up and down. Christ, that really is amazing. Howd’you suppose they do it? It’s just so….real looking…don’tyou think?’ I stare at him, unable to think of a single thing to say to thismadman. ‘Look at the texture of that bark,’ he goes on, ‘and thoselittle raised veins on each leaf. My God, it must have taken theartist years to create.’ ‘Sebastian…’ I start to say but his jaw drops open as I watchand his eyes light up with sheer wonder. ‘Holy smoke!’ he breathes. ‘It’s not a sculpture! It’s aworking model. I just realised. It actually works. It sucks waterout of the ground and those leaves really grow. Incredible!This tree must be the most wonderful thing in the world. Don’tyou agree Mike?’ ‘Sebastian,’ I say slowly. ‘It’s a tree. A real tree? Not amodel or a painting.’ ‘A real tree?’ He looks puzzled. ‘Not man made? Oh, in thatcase I guess it’s not so amazing after all. Just a tree, eh?’ He smiles at me and I feel like a child. I shake my head,unable to stop a smile creasing my lips. 219

‘Okay. You’re right,’ I concede. ‘It’s a real tree and it’severy bit as beautiful as a painting or a sculpture or whatever.And your point is…?’ He moves closer and his voice becomes louder, moreurgent. ‘Hey man, you’re in the middle of God’s beautifulcountryside. Enjoy yourself! A year from now you won’t re-member Zoe’s name, but this…’ he waves a hand around, ‘…all this, will stay with you for a lifetime, if…’ he leans towardsme for greater emphasis and he’s practically shouting now,‘If…you open your eyes and take a goddam look at it!’ I give a little laugh, mostly from shock at witnessing Se-bastian’s passionate outburst, and he grins sheepishly, thenchuckles and shakes his head at his own performance. ‘Whatever,’ he mutters and takes a long drag on his ciga-rette. He makes as if to move on in pursuit of the others but Istand my ground, gazing around me at the strange panorama,then focussing once more on Seb. ‘You’re right.’ I tell him. ‘Jesus Christ, you’re right. Whatthe hell am I doing? I’m wasting the moment worrying aboutsome girl I don’t even know, much less care about, who’ssulking because of some imaginary slight.’ He grins. ‘You’re getting it.’ ‘Fuck her! I’m on holiday. I’m in Thailand. Jesus, I’m in thebloody rainforest!’ ‘That’s it, man. Now you’re talking.’ He spreads his armswide and bellows at the sky: ’We’re in the middle of theGoddamn rainforest!’ We re-join the others and I walk with a new spring in mystep. What Sebastian said makes a huge amount of sense to me.For the first time since we started out on this trek I’m really 220

here, in the moment. I look up into the tree canopy and see theintricate patterns the overhanging branches make against thesky. I take big breaths and smell the forest, the decaying smellof foliage and the warm earth. I feel the undergrowth brushingagainst my legs and hear the hum of insects and the call ofbirds. Zoe is still up front with Por, but I no longer care. For thefirst time I look at the forest and see the differences, ratherthan the similarities. How could I have thought that this placewas anything like an English forest? Well, that sort of thinkingends right here. I’m a world away from England and I don’t want this ad-venture to ever end. * 221

22 We stop for lunch at a little village which Charlie tells uswas once used by loggers. ‘They keep elephant here,’ he explains. ‘They chop downtree in forest. Elephant drag tree to stream, see? Tree floatdown river to factory.’ The village appears deserted now, just a collection of ram-shackle bamboo huts, grey and weather beaten. We arrive downa steep, greasy track and enter the wide central square. Aheadof us the river flows, quick and brown. I’m halfway across thesquare before my brain registers the message my eyes havebeen sending for several seconds. There in the river, standingwith the water gushing around its ankles, is a real live elephant. I glance around to see whether the others have noticed andfind them pointing in another direction with cries of delight.Three more elephants are trudging in single column down thehill on the far side of the river. Elise arrives by my side, fumbling with her camera. ‘Are they not amazing? she says, and I have to agree. We’veall seen elephants in zoos, but to just come across them outhere, in the jungle, wandering around apparently without re-straint: yes, it’s amazing! The guides stand paternally by as we all take pictures, be-coming gradually braver as we discover the elephants are notthe least concerned by our presence. I notice Connie standing in the stream, close to one of the 222

elephants, apparently oblivious to the water soaking her boots.She has one hand lying on its flank and she’s gazing up intothe elephant’s eye. The elephant is gazing back and I get theeerie feeling that some sort of private communication that hasnothing to do with words is passing between them. Connielooks serene, like maybe she’s stoned, and I make a note to askHarry how much Valium she’s taking. Then Charlie calls us to him. ‘We eat lunch now.’ he tells us.‘Then we ride elephant.’ We take our places at a covered table similar to the one inthe village where we stayed last night. Zoe sits at the oppositeend from me. I ignore her. I’m feeling good, what with the ex-ercise and the scenery. I don’t intend to let her spoil it. Whatev-er I’m supposed to have done, or failed to do, I just don’t care. I sit with Sebastian and we discuss his plans. ‘So, where next?’ I ask. ‘After this?’ ‘Cambodia.’ I struggle to recall the little I know about Cambodia. Iremember the name being mentioned in several Vietnam warfilms, but… ‘Wait a minute,’ I say. ‘Cambodia. Isn’t that where theKilling Fields were?’ Seb nods. ‘Pol Pot killed two million of his own country-men. Buried them in mass graves.’ ‘And you want to go there? Are you nuts?’ ‘Pol Pot is dead,’ he says mildly. ‘Died a while back out inthe jungle where he’d been hiding for twenty years. I want togo before the tourist industry gets into full swing and ruins theplace.’ ‘But…is it safe? ‘Not entirely,’ he admits. ‘There’s the little matter of threemillion land mines left over from the guerrilla war. You have towatch where you walk.’ 223

‘You are nuts! You’re going to risk blowing yourself to bitson a land mine just to see…what?’ ‘Angkor,’ he says with something approaching reverence. ’Anchor? What the hell’s Anchor?’ He grins and leans his arms on the table. ‘Okay, quickhistory lesson. In the year one thousand A.D. Angkor was themost populated city the world had ever know. One million in-habitants. That’s more than ancient Rome or Athens. Just thinkabout it, the greatest city man had ever known. And not just acity, but a whole series of palace-cities built by generations ofkings over centuries. The greatest of them is Angkor Wat, prob-ably the most spectacular man-made construction in the historyof the planet, and that includes the great pyramids of Egypt.’ ‘Really? So why don’t I know all this?’ ‘Because sometime in the twelfth century Angkor wasattacked, by the Cham incidentally, and abandoned. The junglereturned, covered it up. For a long time people thought Angkorwas just a myth, like Atlantis.’ ‘And now..?’ ‘French archaeologists found it back in the nineteenthcentury. They started excavations, but the work was interruptedby the Vietnam war, Pol Pot and all that. Nowadays it’s mostlyrestored and open to the public, but the West has been slowto recognise what they’ve been missing all these years.’ Heshrugs, ‘Hell, it’s a temple, not Disneyland. No rides, at leastnot yet.’ ‘And you’re going to see it? Despite the presence of threemillion land mines?’ ‘Damn right. Want to come?’ I laugh. ‘Oh sure. I really fancy tiptoeing round a lost citywaiting to be killed by a land mine.’ ‘Land mines don’t generally kill you,’ he says mildly.‘They’re designed to just blow your legs off. Besides, they’ve 224

cleared the areas that are used by the public.’ ‘Oh, well that’s all right then. Why didn’t you say?’ ‘So, want to come?’ ‘Are you serious? When?’ He shrugs. ‘A week, a month, who knows?’ I sigh. ‘You know I can’t. I have to go back to England. Ihave a…’ ‘…job,’ he nods, the little smile back on his face. ‘Responsi-bilities. A flat…oh, and a cat. I bet the cat misses you.’ ‘It may not seem much to you,’ I say quietly. ‘But it’s mylife.’ He watches me steadily for a moment, his face for oncegrave. ‘Sure, Mike. I understand better than you know. I wasjust tempting you. Don’t sweat it.’ Charlie is standing in front of an elephant. ‘Before you ride,’ he tells us, ‘I give you lesson on elephant.’ The elephant moves one foot restlessly and waves its trunk.Its native handler, a young boy of about twelve, slaps its leath-ery neck and the creature settles down. Charlie moves closer tothe huge flapping ears. ‘This…’ he says loudly, pointing to the elephant’s head witha stick, ‘‘…is front of elephant.’ He moves a few paces towards the elephant’s hindquarters. ‘And this…’ he says. ‘…is back of elephant. Okay, now youready.’ He giggles madly and we all shake our heads and movetowards the wooden platform from which we will mount theelephants’ backs. Harry and Connie get on the first beast. Harry is ready tohelp Connie onto the little bench on the elephant’s back butin the event it’s she who helps her puffing, profusely sweatinghusband. Once more I find myself wondering about her. She seems 225

calm and relaxed and I watch as she leans forward and patsher ride on the head. The elephant responds with a wave of itstrunk and I wonder again if there’s anything in this telepathything. Elise and Jan climb on the next one. They go through aquick bout of photograph taking, first him, then her and finally,passing the camera down to Por, a few of them together. Thenthey sit back and hold hands, their faces glowing with excite-ment. I’m doing the arithmetic and I don’t particularly like theanswer. There are only three elephants saddled up. There areseven of us, not counting the two guides who show no signs ofintending to ride. That leaves three of us on one elephant car-rying a bench that is barely wide enough to seat two. I have abrief vision of Zoe sitting on my lap which is quickly replacedby one of her sitting on Sebastian’s lap. Neither is particularlyappealing. I gather Zoe has been having the same thoughts. At the lastmoment she approaches Charlie and says something quietlyto him. He shrugs and she begins to mount the short flight ofstairs to the platform. Apparently she’s riding with Jan andElise, which gives me new insight into just how much I’min her bad books, if she considers a couple of hours spentsquashed in between this couple whom she considers so boring,is preferable to traveling with me. Seb swings himself onto the third elephant as though he’sbeen doing this all his life. I follow a little more cautiously. Theelephant is perhaps eight feet tall, but when I finally slip ontothe bench beside Sebastian it feels like we’re twenty feet offthe ground. The bench sways from side to side and it’s hard tobelieve it’s not going to slide all the way round the elephant’smidriff and deposit us on the ground. ‘A seat belt would be nice,’ I mutter, and Seb chuckles. 226

The elephant takes its first few steps and I grip the woodenarm beside me with all my might. ‘Jesus, this doesn’t feel toosafe,’ I quaver. ‘Relax,’ Seb tells me. ‘She knows what she’s doing.’ ‘She?’ I say, wondering what Zoe has to do with anythingright now. ‘The elephant. It’s a she, or hadn’t you noticed?’ ‘I don’t generally examine an elephant’s genitalia beforemounting it,’ I reply, gabbling to hide my fear. It’s dawning on me that we’re headed back out of the villageby the same route we came in, the narrow, muddy path downwhich our party had slithered and slipped, grabbing handybranches to prevent us sliding all the way to the bottom on ourbacksides. ‘Seb, tell me we’re not going up that path.’ ‘Looks like it,’ he says, sitting completely relaxed next tome. ‘You worried?’ ‘A little.’ ‘Save it. The real scary part is when we crest that rise ahead.Then the path goes straight downhill.’ ‘Jesus. Thanks for that Seb. How many land mines did yousay they have in Cambodia?’ ‘About three million.’ ‘Do me a favour. Step on one.’ He laughs easily, then begins to talk in a steady, teacher-liketone. ‘Elephants are highly revered in Thailand,’ he says,’ Asthey are in many other parts of the world, particularly India.In Hindu mythology, Ganesha is portrayed as a man with anelephant’s head …’ I can’t listen to him. Our elephant is mounting the short hill,placing each foot in turn carefully on the narrow path. To ourright the ground slopes away, a drop of only thirty feet or sobut my imagination presents me with an image of a two ton 227

elephant rolling down the slope with Seb and I trapped on itsback. It’s not a nice image. ‘Seb,’ I say urgently. ‘Shut up. I’m far too busy being terri-fied to listen to a lecture on Eastern religions.’ We arrive safely at the top of the slope and I stare down intothe next valley in sheer terror. Our elephant doesn’t even breakstride, continuing to swing each leg in turn out and round itspartner to be placed carefully in the centre of the path. Theangle increases steeply and even Seb stops talking and takeshold of the arm rest beside him. By common consent, we eachreach round the other’s shoulders to grip the back of the bench. ‘This is cosy,’ Seb smiles. ‘Oh fuck,’ I groan, as the slope steepens. My feet are placedon the elephant’s back, high up near the base of its skull, but Ican’t get sufficient purchase to keep myself in place. I’m slip-ping off the bench. ‘Jesus, Seb, I’m going to fall off.’ ‘No you’re not,’ Seb says calmly. ‘You’re going to hang ontight, because you don’t want to land under our host’s feet andget trampled to death. It’s not far now. We’ll be at the river in aminute.’ I cling with all my strength to the back of our bench, cursingZoe inside my head for ever persuading me to join her on thiscrazy venture. But Seb is right. The worst is almost over. Theground is levelling out as we reach the bottom of the smallvalley through which gurgles swift brown water. The pathcurves right along the banks of the river but our ride carriesstraight on, stepping into the elephant-knee-high water. ‘Christ! I’m going to drown while riding an elephant,’ Igroan. ‘And I became an accountant because it was a nice, safeoccupation!’ We follow the river, sometimes in it, sometimes on thefootpath, for more than two hours. My intial teror quickly sub- 228

sides, allowing me to relax and enjoy the experience. Seeing the jungle from above is a thrill, though having thejungle slap you across the face every time you get so en-grossed in the view that you fail to watch out for overhangingbranches, is wearying. Our elephant also has a bad habit of becoming distractedevery so often by a tasty looking bush at the side of the trail.Forgetting her responsibility to the passengers on her back, shecrashes into the undergrowth and rips vegetation out with hertrunk while Seb and I hang on for dear life. In the late afternoon we arrive at a small cluster of hutsperched on a bend in the river. We dismount and watch our el-ephants being led off back the way we came by their handlers,who, now we are out of their way, ride on their charges’ heads.Elise and Connie wave them goodbye while the rest of us takein our surroundings. At one end of the clearing stands a large sleeping hut,similar to the one we slept in last night, but shaggier and moreunkempt looking. In front of the hut is an open space filledwith wooden benches arrayed around the ashes of a dead campfire. Beyond the benches are several smaller huts, presumablyfor the use of our guides. About twenty feet away, down a bank of gently slopingmud, the river slides by, brown and unwholesome looking.A wooden jetty projects out into the water but no craft ofany kind are to be seen. A few young native men, wearingonly tattered shorts, have appeared since our arrival. Charliemoves over and talks to them briefly, holding up two fingers.The young men nod and head off into the nearby forest fromwhere, a few moments later, the sound of chopping can beheard. Charlie calls us all together. ‘You enjoy elephant ride?’ he asks with a grin and receivesa chorus of ‘yes’s’. 229

‘Good. We stay here tonight. Tomorrow, we go on raft.’ Jan raises his hand to attract Charlie’s attention then looksembarrassed at the schoolboy-like gesture. ‘Ah…where are therafts?’ Charlie indicates the forest behind us. ‘Men build raftnow.’ A ripple of surprised murmuring breaks out but Charlieclaps his hands for attention. ‘Okay. Dinner in thirty minute,’he says. He turns and heads in the direction of one of thesmaller huts, Por at his heels. Connie is standing a little way from me, her eyes fixed onthe slowly rolling river. She still has that serene little smileon her face that I saw back at the elephant camp and again Iwonder at her state of mind. ‘I’m going for a swim,’ she announces quietly, and Harry’sface crumples with concern. ‘You think that’s a good idea?’ he asks. ‘I’m not sure it’ssafe.’ She turns her smile on him. ‘Sure it is,’ she says calmly.‘Come on, it’ll be fun.’ ‘Okay,’ Harry tells her, and murmurs from the others tellsme the idea meets with general approval. Connie suggests thatthe girls go into the sleeping hut first and get changed, thenthe guys. No one objects, least of all me. I’m happy to put offwhat’s coming next. Zoe and I haven’t spoken all day. Do I assume we will besleeping separately tonight and find myself a place as far fromher as possible? Or will that just give her another reason to bepissed at me? Does she even need a reason to be pissed at me?I light a cigarette and sit on one of the deserted benches. I’mhoping she’ll give me some clue as to what’s expected by herchoice of sleeping position. The girls are back in two minutes, tiptoeing over the broken 230

ground in bare feet to the water’s edge. Connie is wearing abright orange bikini that shows off both her figure and her tanto their very best advantage. She really does have an excel-lent pair of tits. So what if they’re artificial. If I were Zoe, Iwouldn’t be scathing. I’d be asking ‘Where can I buy a pair?’ Next to Connie, Elise, in a black one piece, looks pale andrather muscular. Zoe is wearing her tee shirt and the bluekickers she had on yesterday. I gather a swimsuit is an unnec-essary burden for the serious backpacker, and this impressionreceives further support when Sebastian, who has removedhis boots and tee-shirt, follows the girls into the water stillwearing his faded combat trousers. Jan is in and out of the hut in what seems like a couple ofseconds. He’s wearing dark blue Speedos and his rather stockybut strong young body positively glows with vitality. He runsto the end of the jetty and dives gracefully into the brownwater, surfacing a while later fifty feet away. Harry is next to emerge from the hut wearing an enormouspair of brightly coloured Bermuda shorts, His skin is darklytanned and he has a thick matting of grey hairs on his chestand arms. His prodigious belly hangs over the top of hisshorts. ‘Come on son,’ he calls to me. ‘You’re missing out on allthe fun.’ ‘Be right with you,’ I call back, stubbing out my cigaretteand shouldering my pack. I enter the dark interior of the hut and look around. I’massuming that people expect to sleep where they changed soI’m hoping to see some sign that Zoe has chosen a place forboth of us. I’m out of luck. Her pack is lying in the centralaisle, neutral ground. Fuck it! I choose a spot near the door andquickly get changed. I really don’t know where I am with thisgirl from one hour to the next. It’s doing my head in. If she 231

wants to sleep with me, let her make the next move. Stepping out into the hot sun, I make my way to the jettyand jump in. The water is warmer than I expected, but it feels verygood to be wet with something other than perspiration. Zoeis washing her hair with a bottle of shampoo that bobs in thewater beside her. Elise is floating on her back, the black swim-suit shining wetly across her breasts and stomach. I’m putin mind of inner tubes, but I force the unbidden image away.Connie is swimming with an economical breaststroke that shelooks like she could keep up all day. Seb is swimming strongly towards the other bank, using apowerful crawl stroke. I paddle about for a few minutes butmy heart isn’t entirely in it. Harry is climbing out and I decide to follow. We meet at thebenches. As he towels himself off, I can’t help noticing a huge scarrunning down his chest. He sees me looking and grunts:‘Triple bypass. Two years ago this Fall.’ ‘Really? That sounds pretty serious.’ ‘It was. Doctor told me I shouldn’t be alive. Ninety threepercent of normal blood flow to my heart had stopped.Blocked arteries. Too much fatty food. He stood over me inpre-op and told me: ‘I don’t know how come I’m talking toyou. By rights you ought to be dead.’ ‘And now…I mean…are you all right?’ ‘Oh sure. They fixed me right up. Triple bypass, like I said.’ ‘But should you be on this trek? Surely…’ ‘Don’t worry son, I ain’t about to drop dead on you. See,when they’d finished with me, my tubes were clearer than aman’s half my age. I get regular check-ups too. I’m fine. Guessyou were wonderin’ what an old fart like me was doing on atrip like this, huh?’ 232

‘No, not at all…!’ ‘It’s okay. I know I’m old. I sure as hell wouldn’t be doin’this if it weren’t for Connie.’ ‘It was her idea?’ ‘Heard about it from some guy we met in the BangkokHilton. There we were, havin’ a real nice holiday, from thecomfort of a five star hotel, when she has to go and get it intoher head that she wants to see ‘the real Thailand.’ ‘I rather think it proved to be a little too real for her taste.’ ‘You got that right.’ ‘She seems okay today,’ I point out. ‘Yeah, well, she’s more resilient than people give her creditfor. They think she’s just a Barbie doll, you know?’ I nod, thinking of Zoe’s instant judgement on Connie. ThenI think of my own opinion that she was just some sort oftrophy wife and I feel guilty. ‘She seems very fit,’ I say, watching Connie swim smoothlythrough the brown water. ‘I mean…she doesn’t seem to haveany trouble keeping up.’ ‘This here’s just a stroll in the park for her. That little ladyout there jogs five miles every day, plus three hours in thegym. She has her own personal trainer and believe me when Isay, he works her hard. The girl’s got stamina.’ He gives me asideways look and asks: ‘How old d’you think she is?’ I hate this sort of thing. ‘I don’t know…twenty eight?’ Harry laughs heartily. ‘Jeeze Mike, you just made a friendfor life if I tell her you said that. What did Zoe guess?’ ‘Zoe? We haven’t…’ ‘Sure you have. Women always talk about other women…especially ones they don’t like. So…what was her guess?’ ‘Late thirties,’ I say cautiously. ‘She said it depends on howgood your wife’s plastic surgeon is.’ ‘Ha. Well she got that right. And Connie’s is the best. He 233

should be, the price he charges.’ ‘You won’t tell her what I said, will you? About Zoe.’ ‘No, I won’t, though she’d be even more pleased by herguess than yours.’ ‘How come?’ ‘Women are much better judges of age than men, Mike. Andone hell of a sight more critical. If Zoe told she thought latethirties, she was actually thinking mid thirties. Women are likethat.’ ‘So how old is Connie, or is that a rude question?’ ‘She’s forty four, Mike, forty five in June.’ ‘Really? That’s amazing. I wouldn’t mind looking that goodwhen I’m forty five.’ ‘Don’t hold your breath, Mike,’ he says with a laugh.‘You’ll never look that good.’ He holds his gaze on me for a few moments longer and Ifeel he’s trying to decide whether to say more. Then he contin-ues. ‘You know Mike, up until a few years ago, back before theoperation, I was a bit of a bastard.’ He laughs his big hearty laugh. ‘Hell, who am I kidding? I was a complete bastard. Doesthat surprise you?’ I nod. ‘Yeah, well, when I left the Marines I was one tough son-of-a-bitch, and when I went into business I treated it like war.Anyone who got in my way got stomped on.’ He shakes his head sorrowfully. ‘I was ruthless. And I pulled a few strokes, y’know? Noteverything was entirely above board. Hey, you’re an account-ant. You know what I’m talking about. Every successful mancuts a few corners, right?’ He pauses and seems to be lost in his memories. 234

After a minute he sighs and says, ‘You’re a good guy, Mike.You care about people. You wouldn’t have liked me if we’dmet back then.’ I begin to object but he waves me to silence. ‘And as for women,’ he goes on, ‘Well, I guess I’d haveto say I treated them like shit. My first wife left me when shecaught me with my secretary. It wasn’t the first time and itwouldn’t have been the last, so she was right to leave. ThenI married Connie and I just went right on the same way. Thatpoor girl. Connie’s not dumb. She knew what was going on.But she struck by me, though Heavens knows why.’ He stops again and his big face creases in misery. ‘WhenI think back now to all I put her through...well, I feel trulyashamed of myself.’ He carries on with his story. ‘Then I had my heart attack.I was in a hotel room with some woman I’d met in the bar, itwas one of those conference things, y’know.’ ‘When they rushed me to hospital she came along to see Iwas okay. She was a nice woman, though that wasn’t why Iwas with her. Anyways, they called Connie and she rushed right over andthere they were, my wife and this woman….Christ, I can’teven remember her name…this woman who was the latest ina long line of woman I’d cheated with, sitting in the hospital,waiting to hear if I was going to live or die. Can you imaginewhat that was like for them?’ He shakes his head. ‘I was a worthless piece of shit, Mike,and that’s the truth. I didn’t deserve the concern of onewoman, let alone two.’ ‘After the operation, Connie nursed me back to health. Shespoke to all the docs and learned exactly what to do, and shenever left my side. It changed me, y’know,. For the first time Irealised I really was going to die, if not this time, then one day. 235

I looked at myself and the life I was leading and I realised I’dgot it all wrong. I’d spent my entire life with my head up myass. All I’d cared about was success and the money it brought.I didn’t care about anyone but myself.’ ‘I owe Connie everything, and I know I can never make itup to her for all the shitty things I did but I’m going to spendevery second I have left on this planet trying.’ He leans closer to me, glancing at the women still splash-ing about in the river. ‘Life ain’t easy, Mike, especially forwomen. Age comes harder for them than us men. Conniewasted her youth on a man who wasn’t worth it. But now sheknows she’s loved. I make sure she knows it, every single day.’ His voice is choking up a bit and I look away, giving him amoment to compose himself. ‘You don’t have my trouble son. I’ve been watching youand I can see you’re a fundamentally decent person. I don’tknow what happened to your marriage, but I’m sure it wasn’tyour fault. You just got to find yourself a nice girl, like Connie,and grab ahold and never let go. There, I’ve said my piece. I’msorry if I’ve embarrassed you, but you’ll forgive an old man,won’t you?’ ‘Nothing to forgive,’ I tell him, and I’m surprised to find myown voice sounding hoarse. The girls are emerging from the water now, and Harry putshis big smile back on his face as he greets his wife. Elise and Jan disappear into the sleeping hut, once morehand in hand. Zoe follows them without a glance in my direc-tion. For the first time since the trip began, I envy the twomarried couples. * 236

23 The meal is once again vegetables and rice. I’m beginningto fantasise about Big Macs. Afterwards, we sit around the fire and chat for a couple ofhours. Charlie produces a catapult and everyone has a go atshooting a couple of tin cans off a log. Good clean fun. In truth, the conversation is pretty stilted. As a group we’veonly known one another for a day and a half and the only thingwe have in common is this trek. Talking about work and homefeels wrong. We’ve come here to get away from all that stuff. It’s in this mood of trying hard to find something to talkabout that I decide to ask Sebastian about the furry dicehanging from his backpack. ‘What’s with these things, Seb?’ I ask, reaching out andtaking one of the soft cubes in my hand, the better to examineit. ‘You like them Mike?’ he asks, smiling. ‘They’re cool aren’tthey?’ ‘Sure. They’re great.’ ‘Good, because now they’re yours.’ ‘What? Oh, no, I couldn’t take your dice. They look likeyou’ve been carrying them around forever.’ ‘About seven months,’ Seb corrects me, ‘but they’re mucholder than that. More than forty years old, in fact. They’vebeen carried by more than fifty people and now they’re yours.But first I have to tell you their story and you have to agree to 237

the rules, okay?’ ‘Okay,’ I say doubtfully. ‘So let’s hear this story.’ ‘Well, it all begins in England, a long time ago. There wasthis guy, name of Douglas Mackenzie.’ He pronounces thename carefully, as though he’s memorized it specially. ‘Sounds Scots to me,’ I point out, and Seb looks uncertain.‘Yeah?’ he says. ‘MacKenzie is a good old Scots name,’ I say. ‘So’s Douglas.I’m pretty sure there was a Scottish king named Douglas.’ Seb shrugs. ‘You could be right,’ he says, ‘but I heard hewas English. Anyway, he was just a regular guy, worked in amine or something, in Lancashire, someplace like that. Thiswas in the late Sixties, right, the hippy era. This guy Macken-zie, he’s no hippy, just a regular guy, but, he decides he’s hadenough of all that work shit, you know, nine to five, five daysa week, little house, little wife, all that stuff. He wants to travelman, see the world. But he can’t afford it, yeah? So he sells theonly thing he owns that’s worth shit: his car. See, this car is hispride and joy. He loves this car. Polishes it every Sunday. Andhe had these dice hanging from the mirror, yeah? But he sellshis beloved car so’s he can travel. The only thing he has left toremind him of it are these dice. So he takes them with him.’ He pauses to drink more beer. ‘What sort of car was it?’ Zoe asks. I look up with surpriseat the sound of her voice. I didn’t think she was listening. ‘A Ford,’ Seb replies quickly. ‘Some English model, I don’tremember the name, begins with a ‘C’.’ ‘A Cortina?’ I suggest. ‘A what? ‘It was a very popular saloon, back in the Sixties and Seven-ties. I explain, My dad drove one. A Ford Cortina.’ ‘Maybe,’ Seb says doubtfully. ‘I can’t be sure.’ ‘Or a Capri?’ I suggest. ‘Little two door fastback?’ 238

‘That’s the one,’ Seb says, pointing a finger at me. ‘You gotit Mike. A Ford Capri, that’s the car he sold. Man, he lovedthat car. So anyway, he took off round the world, just left hiswife and kids behind and went.’ ‘He left his kids?’ Zoe asks. ‘Sure. Well hell, he couldn’t take them with him, could he?Anyway, he travelled everywhere: India, Asia, Australia, youname it, he went there. Right round the world he went, threetimes. Ten years he was on the road and everywhere he wentthese dice went with him. Then one day he got bitten by asnake. Down in South America somewhere he was, miles fromthe nearest doctor, and he knew he was gonna die, right? So hegives these dice to his travelling companion, and he says, “Mytravels are over, man, but I want you to take these dice withyou wherever you go. So long as these dice are still travelling,a bit of me will go with them. Then he died.’ He sits back and looks round the circle of awed faces withsatisfaction. ‘Cool, huh?’ ‘And they’ve been travelling ever since?’ Zoe asks. ‘Thesesame dice?’ ‘Same dice,’ Seb nods. ‘Only….they’ve been patched upa bit, you understand? I mean, forty years of hanging off theback of rucksacks, they’ve taken a beating, right?’ ‘You mentioned rules,’ I say. ‘Oh yeah. The rules. You gotta swear to follow the rulesman, or you can’t carry the dice.’ ‘So what rules are these?’ He hunches forward, his face now deadly serious. ‘First,’ he says, ‘You gotta pass them on, if someone touchesthem. You can’t hold onto them. And you can’t take themhome and hang them on your wall, yeah? They gotta keeptravelling, or old McKenzie’s ghost will come and haunt you.’ ‘What about if someone just brushes against them, say, in 239

the market?’ ‘That doesn’t count,’ he says. ‘The rule is, you only haveto pass them on if the person who touches them is a traveller.You don’t need to give them to baggage hands or taxi drivers,people like that. But if a fellow traveller touches them, andasks about them, like you did, you’ve got to pass them on.Okay?’ ‘Okay,’ I say. ‘What else?’ ‘If they get damaged, you’ve got to repair them. Hell,these’ve been repaired so many times, I doubt there’s an orig-inal scrap of cloth left on them. But as long as you only addone side at a time, they’re still the same dice, understand?’ I nod. ‘Last rule,’ he says, ‘You add your name to the list, and theplaces you visit.’ ‘The list?’ ‘D’you have a penknife, Mike? Anyone got a knife?’ Charlie grins and produces something that looks like a shortsword from his belt. ‘Got anything smaller than that?’ Sebsuggests. ‘I’m only cutting thread, not tree trunks.’ ‘I’ve got a pair of nail scissors in my bag,’ Connie offers.‘Would they do?’ ‘They’d be perfect,’ Seb says. ‘And if you’ve got a pen aswell, that’d be great.’ We wait impatiently while Connie disappears into the hutfor her bag. ‘You look after these Mike,’ Seb says. ‘And they’ll bringyou luck.’ I nod, not sure what to say. I try to look grave and respect-ful. Connie is back with the scissors and the pen. Seb begins tocarefully unpick one seam of the dice, squinting in the inade-quate firelight. Then he reaches in with two fingers and fishes 240

around in the sponge rubber padding. Finally he brings out aslip of paper. We crouch forward as he unfolds the grimy sheet. He holdsit up for us to see. ‘Okay, this is the list of all the people who carried thesedice, and where they went with them. The list goes backtwenty years. I don’t know what happened before then. Maybeit got lost, or maybe they didn’t start listing names until then.But there’s fifty four names on the list, and two hundred andtwenty three countries. My name is the fifty fourth and yours,Mike, will be number fifty five.’ He bends to write something on the tattered sheet, holding itawkwardly on his knees. ‘How d’you spell your surname, Mike?’ I tell him and hewrites it laboriously, then looks up with satisfaction. ‘Okay. You swear to uphold the rules, Mike?’ ‘Do you want me to hold my hand up or something?’ ‘Sure. May as well do it right. I don’t suppose anyone’s gota bible, have they?’ ‘I do,’ Connie says to my surprise, and she heads off to thehut again. Two minutes later I have my left hand on Connie’s bibleand my right hand held up at shoulder level. I feel ridiculous,sitting round a campfire in the rainforest, swearing to uphold aset of rules laid down by some mad Scotsman forty years ago. But I do it, and oddly, I feel moved. The others watch megravely, touched by the little ceremony. ‘Here you are, Mike,’ Seb says, dangling the dice before meby their string. ‘They’re all yours. Carry ‘em with pride, man.’ The big fire is dying down and the surrounding darknesscreeps closer. On the far side of the fire Jan gets up suddenly, drawingElise after him. 241

‘It is getting late,’ he says. ‘Elise and I are both tired. I thinkwe will go to bed.’ His wife stands close, blushing slightly, continuing to holdhis hand in both of hers. ‘Good night everybody,’’ she says. ‘Iwill see you in the morning.’ ‘I think I’ll crash too,’ Connie announces, and the youngercouple’s faces fall. ‘That elephant riding sure takes it out ofyou. You coming, Harry?’ Harry shakes his big head and places his hand on his wife’sleg. ‘I thought we’d sit here a whiles longer,’ he says pointedly.‘You’re always saying how romantic an open fire is. Well hell,they don’t come much more open than this.’ Connie gives him an enquiring look, but Harry wraps hisarm around her shoulders and, pulling her tight against hisside, addresses Jan: ‘You go on along son. Connie and me’ll sithere for another half hour or so.’ Elise and Jan leave to a chorus of goodnights. When they’resafely out of earshot, Connie turns to her husband. ‘Harry? Areyou all right? I thought you said you were tired.’ ‘Sure I am,’ he says evenly. ‘But I reckon I can last anotherthirty minutes if it means giving those young people a littleprivacy for the first time in two days.’ ‘You mean…oh!’ Connie looks amused. ‘Jeeze, d’you thinkthirty minutes will be enough?’ ‘It’s all they’re getting,’ Harry says pleasantly. ‘I’m bushed.But I think we’d best whistle Dixie as we approach.’ True to his word Harry waits thirty minutes then heaveshimself to his feet. ‘Well folks, it’s time Connie and I were going to bed. It’sbeen a long day and we need our sleep. Good night everyone.’ They disappear into the gloom in the direction of the sleep- 242

ing hut. That leaves just Seb, myself and Charlie. I’m not sure whereZoe got to. I didn’t notice her leave. Perhaps she’s alreadyin bed. If so, Harry’s gallantry will have been wasted. In anycase, the party’s definitely winding down. ‘I think I’ll head off too,’ I say. ‘I’m pretty knackered.’ ‘Hang on a while longer Mike,’ Seb says quietly. ‘Thingsare about to get interesting.’ ‘What’s happening?’ I whisper back. ‘Is this where theybring on the naked women?’ ‘Better than naked women,’ he replies with a grin. ‘Opium.’ ‘You’re kidding,’ I breathe, but Seb shakes his head with asatisfied grin. ‘Just cool it. We’re expecting some guests.’ Sure enough, Harry and Connie’s departure seems to act asa signal. As they disappear through the door of the sleepinghut twenty yards away, little figures begin to appear out of thedark and drift towards the fire. Charlie greets them warmly and bids them sit with us.Within a few minutes there are eight of them. I recognize twoas the young men who built our rafts. The others are older,wiry ancients with faces like grinning brown skulls. Charliemakes introductions and I shake several hands but I don’tcatch the names. It seems they’re from the neighbouringvillage. As I listen uncomprehendingly to their sing song chatter,I notice one of the young men producing a short piece ofbamboo and placing it reverentially on the table before one ofthe elders. The old man nods pleasantly and the younger manproduces a small leather pouch from which he tips a dozen orso little dried objects. ‘Poppy buds,’ Seb informs me quietly. ‘Dried in the sun.’ After what feels like a long time, the social niceties are ap- 243

parently satisfied. Another pipe is produced, and then another.I watch with fascination as one of the older men lights up andpuffs contentedly, his face looking serene and Buddha-like.Then he passes the pipe to Charlie. ‘You want to try Mike?’ Charlie asks me, his habitual smileglowing at me in the dark. ‘After you,’ I say and he nods and draws deeply on thepipe. He smokes for a couple of minutes then moves over andcrouches before me. ‘You do this before?’ he asks. ‘No.’ ‘Okay. I show you.’ He readies the pipe, and I feel suddenly nervous. I look overat Sebastian, who’s watching Charlie with clinical interest, asthough he’d like to be taking notes but has forgotten his pen.‘Do you want to go first?’ I ask. ‘I won’t smoke any. One of us ought to stay clean. I don’tmind being the one.’ ‘But you can’t miss out for my sake.’ He waves my objection away. ‘I’ve done it before,’ he says.‘It’s your first time. Enjoy it. It’s cool man.’ I watch as Charlie stuffs one of the dried flower heads intothe little receptacle on the side of the pipe. I take the mouth-piece between my teeth and he holds the flame of his lighter tothe poppy bud. ‘Breathe deep,’ Sebastian says. ‘Don’t breathe in and out.Just keep sucking the smoke in until your lungs are full thenhold it for as long as you can. Okay?’ I nod and inhale as he told me. I half expect to choke, butthe smoke is cool and sweet. I suck for about twenty secondsthen release the pipe. ‘Hold it in,’ Sebastian warns, ‘or you’lllose the effect.’ I hold the air in my chest until I feel like I’ll burst, then I let 244

it out in a long, drawn-out sigh. ‘Good,’ Sebastian says. ‘How does it feel?’ ‘I’m not sure.’ I wait, sending my mental probes out to all parts of mybody, waiting for them to send their damage reports back tothe bridge. To my surprise, I feel very little. ‘It’s mild,’ I say. Sebastian nods. ‘Sure. Hit it again.’ ‘How much of this stuff should you have?’ I ask. Charlie provides the answer. ‘First time, you take it easy.Me, I take six, maybe seven. You, you take three.’ ‘Three,’ I nod. ‘Okay, here goes number two.’ The effect is more noticeable this time, but it’s still okay.Pleasant: not the least bit scary. ‘Another?’ Sebastian asks, and I nod. I’m watching Charlie stuff the little poppy head into thepipe when I hear the sound, a brief female cry of pain, muffledby the darkness and the fog in my head. I stare around, con-fused and suddenly frightened. ‘What was that?’ I say. Did you hear that?’ ‘It’s okay,’ Sebastian soothes. ‘It was nothing. Take anothertoke, man. Chill.’ ‘But…that was Zoe….wasn’t it? I thought I heard herscream.’ ‘It’s the dope man. You’re hearing things. Chill out.’ I strain my ears and hear it again, a panting, sobbing sound,the sort a woman makes when in distress….or…. ‘Easy man,’ Sebastian says. His hand is on my shoulder,pressing me gently but firmly back into my seat. I hadn’tknown I was getting up. I subside slowly. Seb is watching me carefully, his face calm but grave.‘Smoke the dope, man. Smoke the dope and chill. She’s a freespirit. She walks her own path. Don’t fret it man.’ 245

He pushes the pipe at me and I let the mouthpiece slipbetween my teeth. Charlie is still squatting before me, butfor the first time in two days, he isn’t smiling. He clicks thelighter and makes to apply it to the fresh opium bud, but I liftmy head, letting the pipe drop away, and stare around the littleclearing. ‘Where’s Por,’ I ask, my voice sounding strangely loud,hollow. No one answers me. Charlie’s eyes are dark, almost black, and infinitely sad. Heclicks the lighter and lets it burn, the yellow flame dancingbefore me, waiting. After a moment, I dip my head and inhale the sweet smokeonce more. * 246

24 I wake alone in the big sleeping hut. Yellow light iscoming in bars through the bamboo wall. I can hear the soundof the river, lapping against its banks, and voices. A womanlaughs, a light, carefree laugh and I think of Zoe. Zoe, last night, her voice raised not in laughter, nor, as I’dfirst thought, in pain, but in ecstasy. My brain is dull. I can’t think straight. Can’t work out myfeelings. In my head, I can still hear the echo of her cries, nowmingled with the woman’s laughter. But that wasn’t Zoe anyway. It was one of the others,Connie or Elise, the voice too high-pitched. I sit up and lookaround me. The sleeping platform is empty. Here and there,blankets lie in neatly folded piles. Everyone has packed andgone, outside if not yet away. Why didn’t they wake me? I pack hurriedly, stuffing my clothes into my rucksack hap-hazardly, and step out into the brilliant sunshine. Charlie, Seb and Harry are sitting around the remains of lastnight’s fire, drinking coffee. ‘Hey, look who’s decided to return to the land of the living!’Harry calls, moving along the bench to make room for me.‘We thought you’d never wake up, buddy. You were snoring fitto bring the roof down.’ ‘You very drunk last night,’ Charlie tells me pointedly, witha little nod in Harry’s direction. ‘You sleep it off. You feelbetter now?’ 247

‘Uh, yeah. Sure. I feel fine. What time is it?’ ‘We go in half hour,’ he tells me. ‘You want breakfast?’ I start to say no, then I realise that I’m famished. ‘Sure,’ I say. Charlie goes off to tell the cook and I turn to Sebastian. ‘I think I may have overdone it last night,’ I say quietly. He shoots a warning glance at Harry and says, rather tooloudly. ‘That Singha beer, man. You never can tell. They saythe strength varies by up to one hundred percent, dependingwhere you buy it.’ ‘Poor quality control,’ Harry says, shaking his head indisgust. ‘No way to build customer loyalty. How’s your headMike?’ I pass the question on to my brain and get a surprisinganswer. ‘It seems to be fine,’ I say. ‘In fact, I feel like I’ve sleptfor a week.’ ‘You almost did,’ Harry says. Squeals of laughter are coming from the river behind meand I turn and watch. The three women are in the river. Por isstanding on one of the rafts, kicking water over the women,who cry out and attempt to splash him back. Good clean fun. I turn away. In a minute, Charlie brings my breakfast. While I’m eating, Harry wanders off, leaving Seb and Ialone. ‘How are you, man?’ he asks. ‘I’m fine’ ‘Yeah? I thought maybe after last night you’d be feelingkinda bad this morning.’ ‘No, I’m fine. I can’t get over how mild that opium was.I mean, I was stoned, right, I was really stoned, I don’t even 248

remember going to bed, but I woke up feeling great. Sort of…relaxed…rested, you know? No hangover, no blues, nothing.’ ‘That’s great man,’ Seb nods, ‘but you know, I wasn’t reallytalking about the opium.’ ‘Oh, I see. You mean Zoe?’ He nods. ‘How you feeling about that?’ I shrug. ‘Hey look,’ he says, ‘If you don’t want to talk about it, that’scool. I don’t mean to pry. I just thought maybe it’d help tochat, y’know?’ ‘Yeah, I know. And thanks for the thought. I don’t mindtalking about it, but to tell you the truth, I’m not sure what Ifeel. I just feel kind of…numb.’ ‘You going to talk to her about it?’ ‘I’m not sure. I don’t think so. I can’t imagine there’s muchto say. She dumped me and chose Por, end of story.’ ‘Doesn’t mean you can’t still be friends,’ Seb suggests. ‘Youcan still travel together.’ I give a hollow laugh. ‘I’m sure Por would love that idea.’ ‘Por? Jesus Mike, you don’t imagine she’s going to hangwith him, do you?’ ‘Isn’t she?’ ‘Hell no, man. That was just one of those things thathappens when you’re traveling. You meet someone you like,you fuck. It doesn’t mean anything. It happens all the time.’ ‘Not to me.’ ‘Maybe not, but Zoe…she goes her own way.’ ‘Evidently,’ I say bitterly. He watches me for a long moment, his face serious, thensays: ‘I guess you feel kind of let down. She broke her promisedidn’t she?’ ‘What promise?’ ‘The promise she made about not sleeping with other guys,’ 249