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A MIDDLE-AGED WAITER in a white shirt polished a set of wine glasses, holding each to the light before slotting it under the counter. There were only three customers. Noonie Kitkailart stirred two ice cubes into her lemonade. Adirake Leekpai had an orange-juice and was here to convert her. On her other side ‘Sam’, an Australian with a beer-belly, was trying to get her into conversation. He was on his sixth Pina Colada. Even so, she was inclined to regard him as the least worst option.
She crossed her legs and put her head in her hands. Her face was smooth and so evenly balanced you could have held a mirror across it and not seen the join. Her clavicle and the tendons of her neck shone. Her eyebrows were like brush strokes, her lips pink, her hair black. She wore a sleeveless dress and flip-flops.
“Have you seen Pretty Woman?” Sam asked.
“The film?”
“Not the Roy Orbison song, no.”
“I thought you might mean an actual pretty woman.”
“Oh, yeah, suppose so.”
“Some time ago,” she said.
“Well, you look like a Thai Julia Roberts.”
Behind her, Adirake rolled his eyes.
“But you look more Thai than Julia Roberts,” Sam said.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, you look more Thai than Julia Roberts.”
She brushed her hair underneath on each side. “Do you mean Julia Roberts doesn’t look very Thai, or do you mean there are two parts to me and the Thai part’s the bigger?”
“I like a brainy gal,” Sam said. “Say that again. It was sexy as hell. Would you like to see the sights?”
“Why would she want to see the sights?” Adirake said. “She was born here.”
Sam looked over Noonie’s shoulder. “Hey, who are you, man?”
“No, who are you?” Adirake said.
“Do you, er, know him?” Sam said. “Is he, like, your brother, or something? Thais aren’t usually – you know, angry?”
“Shouldn’t you be with Solada?” she said.
“Solada’s at work,” Adirake said.
“What sort of sights were you thinking about?” Noonie asked Sam. “I don’t mind if I’m chaperoned, but I don’t do one-to-one.”
He burped and slapped a pile of banknotes down. “A thousand Bahts says I think you do.”
His face was distorted by the arrival of a fist. Adirake stood up as Sam hit the floor. He rubbed his knuckles. The bartender took a whistle from beneath the bar. The bar’s owner and his two sons arrived and rushed Adirake and Sam out onto the beach. A five-man wrestling match began. A crowd gathered. Noonie watched through the gaps in the bamboo as Sam was knocked out and Adirake was felled. The owner and his sons sat on him and he patted three times on the sand. The crowd cheered.
“Adirake Leekpai, you are hereby banned from the bar for three days,” the bar owner said, standing with his arms aloft.
“In the name of Allah, I accept,” Adirake replied.
They embraced and shook hands. Another cheer. Noonie rolled her eyes and finished her lemonade. She left the bar in the opposite direction to one Adirake was taking. As usual, she felt guilty about evading him.
When she got home, she set up the chair and folding table and took her briefcase from behind her stepbrother’s bicycle. She took out a set of exercise books. She opened one and wrote ‘well done’ in the margin.
The next day the same pile of books stood on a table in the staffroom of the British International School in Koh Kaew. Noonie sat behind them, half to attention. Thirty minutes after the end of the school day and she was alone.
Sixty vacant chairs emphasised the fact. A row of workbenches stood beneath a paperback-stacked shelf labelled ‘Book Club’. Four windows gave a view of the playing fields.
Mark Shawcross, the Head of Science, walked in holding an open packet of biscuits and patting the lone tuft at the front of his receding hairline. He sat down opposite Noonie and picked up a magazine.
Mark was roughly her age. In some way whose details she never discovered, and which he never mentioned, he’d helped her get her job here. She smiled at him, as she always did, by way of a feeble thank you.
“Fancy a Hob-Nob?” he said.
She took a biscuit and put it on the exercise books. “I’ll eat it later.”
“What’s wrong with it?”
“I’m just a bit nervous.”
“About what?”
“I’m waiting for Mrs O’Brien - ”
“Colleen.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
He grinned. “I suppose you call me Mr Shawcross when I’m not around, eh?”
“Er ... well ... ”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that to sound like a criticism. I think it’s endearing. Is this one of your boarding nights?”
She nodded. “Monday to Thursday.”
“Tough. I’ve been granted a reprieve from all that at the moment. My wife’s pregnant.”
“Oh, congratulations.”
“Thanks.”
“When’s it due?”
“Could be any time. It’s a girl. We’ve had a scan. Eat your Hob-Nob.”
She grinned. “I can’t, honestly.”
“Colleen has that effect on me, too.”
“It’s not Mrs – Colleen.”
“Mrs Colleen?”
“It’s my Performance Management interview. I just want to get it over and done with. My tummy’s a bit - ”
“Don’t worry about PM. It’s all tripe. We’re not meant to benefit from it, we’re meant to feel insecure. Like you, now. Can’t eat your Hob-Nob for worrying about it. Relax, you’re a great teacher. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
The door swung open and Colleen entered, a thin, middle-aged woman in a brown suit. She sat between Mark and Noonie, sweating. “Sorry, Noonie. One of the sixth formers was having a crisis - ”
“Fancy a Hob-Nob, Mrs O’Brien?” Mark said.
“I’ll take two. And my friends call me Colleen.”
“Two Hob-Nobs and she’s anyone’s.”
She laughed. “Perhaps we should stick with Mrs O’Brien then.”
“I’d just like to say I think Noonie’s had a fantastic probationary year. I don’t know her very well yet, but the students love her and they respect her. She gets my vote any day of the week.”
“Thanks for your help,” Colleen said.
“Glad to be of service.”
She took out a clipboard, put on her spectacles and turned her back on him. “Now, Noonie, I’ve got written here that the school agreed when it – we - took you on, that if you completed your first year satisfactorily and no better qualified candidate appeared in the meantime you’d be offered a permanent contract. Is that right?”
“Yes.” Noonie cleared her throat. “Yes.”
Colleen ticked the sheet. “Your progress was to be measured by the number of ESL students taking up the full complement of examination subjects in Year 10, ‘the current arrangement being that students with inadequate English skills at the end of Year 9 have to take fewer IGCSE subjects than those whose skills are acceptable’. It was agreed that if you could merely keep the number steady in her first year, that would be sufficient to see you through.”
Noonie nodded.
“So let’s ‘cut the bullshit’, as they say. You’re through!” She put the clipboard down and clapped super-fast and embraced Noonie.
Mark leaned over and offered a handshake. “Great to have you on board.” He put another Hob-Nob on the table. “You’ve earned it.”
“As your mentor,” Colleen said, “I have to ask you if you’ve any personal affairs I can help you with. Completely off the record, this. Your personal affairs.”
“How personal can they be if you’re going to discuss them in the staffroom?” Mark said.
“We didn’t expect you to be here,” Colleen said.
“It’s the staffroom.”
“I haven’t really got anything private,” Noonie said. “I mean, even a lot of the pupils know about my family situation - ”
“That dreadful man who follows you around, claiming to be your long-lost twin and trying to convert you to Islam?”
“To be fair, a lot of the kids think he’s great,” Mark said. “I haven’t met him, mind.”
“He probably is my twin,” Noonie said. “He’s got better lately anyway. I think he might get settle down and get married soon.”
“I’ve heard he’s just been promoted to Chief Lifeguard,” Mark said.
“I didn’t know that,” Noonie said.
“Don’t listen to Mark,” Colleen said.
“No, seriously. I wouldn’t joke about a thing like that. You should be proud.”
There were a few moments of silence.
“Anyway, do you still have ambitions to join the civil service?” Colleen said.
“I didn’t know you wanted to join the civil service,” Mark said.
Colleen slammed her pen down. “Look here, Mark. We’ve reached the point where this is no longer funny. This is a professional conversation of a formal nature between two colleagues, not idle chit-chat. Now if you can’t - ”
“I didn’t mean it like that. Sorry, Colleen, I - it’s just that, if she – if Noonie – is thinking of joining the Civil Service I might be able to help. My father-in-law’s – dah-dah! - the Thai ambassador to the UK. I could at least get her some information?”
“We don’t want her to leave, Mark. She’s an asset. Even you agree with that.”
“True, but we can’t refuse to help her if she does.”
“Hang on, I didn’t know your wife was Thai,” Colleen said.
He smiled. “That’s why I’m in Thailand. Otherwise, I’d be at some C of E Comp in rural Berkshire. And soon I’ll have a Thai daughter so I’ll be the odd one out in my family.”
“How lovely. How did the two of you meet?”
“My wife and I? On the Internet. WWW dot for-whatever-reason-I-can’t-seem-to-find-someone-to-marry-but-I’ve heard-there-are-lots-of-fit-babes-in-Thailand dot com.”
“The Internet?”
“It’s basically this vast, interconnected system of computer networks with a - ”
“I know what it is, Mark. Ho, ho.”
“We went to university together. She grew up in the UK. She could have had anyone, she’s spectacular.”
He reached into his jacket and produced a photograph of a Thai woman sandwiched between two young men. Mark was on the left. The man on the right had his head in a bandage. In the background, a river; beyond that, a cathedral.
“It’s an old photo,” he said. “My wife suffers from Ptosis, droopy eyelids. She doesn’t like having her photo taken, so it’s the best I’ve got. That’s us just after we met. I had a full head of hair in those days.”
“Is that ... Durham?” Colleen said.
“You recognise it? That’s the Wear, in the background. And there’s the cathedral of course - ”
“Recognise it? I went to Durham too. What college?”
“Hatfield. That’s my friend on the right. Also Hatfield. My wife was at St Mary’s.”
“I was at St Mary’s! Eighty-one to eighty-four? No, what am I saying? I would have known her.”
“Ninety-two to ninety-five.”
“Whatever. God, we must meet up. Who’s that man on the right? And why - ”
“My best friend. Lek had a real crush on him - although I think it was a case of wanting to mother him more than anything else. Anyway she couldn’t pluck up the courage to ask him out and he was too self-obsessed to twig. To cut a long story short, her insecurity and his insensitivity were my lucky break. Still, we were inseparable in those days. We did everything together.”
“Everything?”
“Maybe not everything. Anyway, after we left university, she and I married and came out here. Edward stayed in England. We still see him twice a year though. We stay at each other’s houses.”
“How nice.”
“Luckily for my conscience, he turned out to be a genius. Made a mint out of his various inventions, so everyone was happy. I got the girl, he got the cash.”
“Happy ever after. I must say, I think she chose the right man. He looks gloomy. And why’s he wearing a bandage? Was it Rag Week?”
“Nowhere near. The three of us were almost killed the night before this photo was taken. Literally.”
“Really? How?”
“Well, we were all in Durham Kohl, the amateur dramatics society, and - ”
“Oh my God. I was in Durham Kohl!”
“No, really?” Mark said.
“You were almost killed?” Colleen said. “It was never that dangerous when I was in it.”
“Well, it was Lek who was really into amateur dramatics, not Edward and I. We only joined because she wanted to become President and she needed the votes.”
“Did she win?”
“Sadly, yes. Then she decided we were going to put on Lady Windermere’s Fan in Japanese Noh style with masks and drums and flutes and moans. Which might have been okay if it had been on campus. But she hired a hall on the edge of a council estate. Two hundred pensioners crowded into a working-men’s club. Even I had no idea what was going on and I was actually in it. I’ve never been escorted from a building by policemen before – I mean, not for my own safety. Edward’s Noh mask got stamped on and someone broke a bottle of bitter over his head.”
“Good God. Your wife looks pretty chuffed, though.”
“That was what she wanted. For people to become passionate about the theatre.”
“I must meet her.”
Noonie yawned. They turned to face her. She blushed.
“I was listening,” she said. “Sorry. I had a late night, last night.”
“Your Performance Management,” Mark said. “Noonie, I’m so sorry.”
“Anyway ... the civil service ...” Colleen said.
Mark blushed as he put the photograph away. “I’ll ... I’d better be getting off. Really, it’s a genuine offer. You want to join the civil service, come and see me. I’m sure I can help pull a few strings.”
“Sorry, Noonie,” Colleen said “Where were we, now? You might one day join the civil service, yes?”
“Of course, I couldn’t really tell them the truth,” Noonie said.
“So what is the truth?” Georgina said.
“That I can’t see how I can avoid the civil service.”
It was Friday night in a Western-style house on the Eastern slope of Mai Thao Sip Song Mountain. Georgina sat in her lounge in the twilight before the window that overlooked the Western Bay. Her short white hair, blue eyes and deep wrinkles were made less stark by the dusk. In the distance, the beach lights were coming on. A full moon cast its train on the sea. Noonie was in the kitchen.
“And why do you have to join the civil service?” Georgina asked.
“Because I’ve got to get off the island. What cocktail do you want?”
“You choose. It’s supposed to be a celebration.”
“I knew I’d passed a long time ago, when the results came out. The interview with Mrs O’Brien – ‘Colleen’ - was just a formality.”
“A Big Easy Gin Fizz. You have a Side Car. No arguing. It’s still an achievement.”
“You got me the job, not me.”
“I merely asked some friends – Mark and Colleen, among others – to take your application in. You did the rest. I hope that isn’t what this is all about. Some misplaced sense of inadequacy, stemming from the false impression that I ‘got you the job’. You do like it there, don’t you?”
“I love it.”
“Mark says the children adore you.”
“I know, he told me.”
“Why the boring, boring civil service, then?”
“I’ve told you. Because I’ve got to get off the island.”
“You’ve said that already. I mean, why have you got to get off the island?”
“For Tasanee’s sake.”
“Meaning?”
Noonie sighed. She gave Georgina her cocktail and took a sip of her own. She walked round the room and sat down. “Tasanee’s always had this thing where she has to prove to the neighbours that she’s been a good stepmother. You know that.”
“She has been a good stepmother.”
“So far. But we both know she’s still expecting the ‘Great Farang’, as she used to call him, to materialise and carry me away, leaving only the trail of the most fabulous dowry the world’s ever seen. Only then will her triumph will be complete ... And waiting for it’s killing her.”
“You think so? Even now?”
“And because what you’ve helped me achieve, education-wise, salary-wise - has raised the bar so high, I’ve got to clear it in public, otherwise no one will believe her. And with good reason:”
“And that’s why you have to get off the island.”
“The neighbours think we’ve got ideas above our station. Or Tasanee has. She can only face them down insofar as she keeps winning. So long as I keep winning. If I’m not on the island, I can’t clear it in public, and that means she has to get over it. Sometimes you’ve got to be cruel to be kind.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
“She’s been seeing David Blameworth.”
Georgina started. “Are you sure?”
“About me. There’s no suggestion of a romance between them. He always says hello when he sees me, with that look he has.”
“I can’t say I’ve ever seen it.”
“You’d know it if you had.”
“What are you waiting for then? You said Mark had civil service contacts. Follow them up.”
“It’s not that simple.”
Georgina bit her lip. “I didn’t think it would be. Go on.”
“I can’t go while my stepbrothers are away in Bangkok, ‘earning their fortune’. It’d mean leaving Tasanee all alone.”
“I’d look after her. You know I would. How are they getting on?”
“Oh, just fine,” Noonie said. “They’re a ‘team’. Nothing can go wrong when you’re a ‘team’. They’re working in the same hotel now. Wichien’s a porter; Tueng’s a kitchen assistant. They’re supposed to send some of their earnings home each month, but I know it’s the other way round. Tasanee’s taking some – a lot - of the money I’m giving her and sending it to Bangkok. She thinks I haven’t found out. I’m happy to keep it that way - for now.”
“That’s generous of you. You’ve never been particularly close to your brothers.”
“I’ve always liked them. But Tasanee’s permanently worried about them.”
“I suppose that’s to be expected.”
“She goes to the Temple for them every day and she likes me to as well. Once a fortnight they send us a letter, full of cheery news. But I can read between the lines. It’s only a matter of time before they’re back home, clutching their broken dreams. And Tasanee’s really going to need supporting then.”
“You can’t throw your own life away on what might happen. What if you’re wrong?”
“I haven’t told you the worst of it yet.”
“God, some celebration this is turning out to be. Go on, we might as well make a clean sweep of it.”
Noonie hesitated. “I think on one level, at least, I’m ... also waiting for the Great Farang.”
“We’ve got to get you psychiatric treatment. I’m serious.”
“There was this man, when I was at university ...”
“Keep going.”
I’ve never told anyone this before. Too painful for a while. Then too trivial. Mark and Colleen talking about their university days brought it all back. That and the civil service, getting off the island. How I can’t.”
“‘This man’.”
She sighed. “Theodore. Jananya’s boyfriend.”
“I remember you mentioning a Jananya in your letters.I don’t remember a Theodore.”
“An American, fifteen years older than me. He wasn’t particularly handsome or even intelligent – although he had what might be called an ‘older man’s suavity’, I suppose.”
“I think I know the type. What did he do to you?”
“It was what he didn’t do. Know I existed. For two whole semesters I was wracked with misery. Jealousy, really. Jealousy turned out to be my speciality.”
“Our old friend. Remember that boy you had a crush on in Upper Secondary? What was he called? Niphon? God, you wanted to pound his girlfriend to dust.”
“I forget.”
“I was that way with Alice for a while. But I wouldn’t recommend it. It’s off-putting, for a start.”
“I had it quite bad. But you can only be put off if you know about it. He didn’t.”
Georgina put her fingertips together on her knee. “So what happened?”
“One evening out of the blue he and Jananya announced they were getting married and emigrating to San Fransisco.”
“So what did you do?”
“I cried myself stupid of course. For a while. But then, time passed. And I started to wonder whether I’d ever been in love with him at all. It wasn’t long before I didn’t feel anything for him. Anything at all. I couldn’t even picture his face. It was as if I’d never even known him.”
“So you got over him.”
“It wasn’t the same thing. It was spooky. And then I realised. His only significance was that he was a wealthy farang. I’d been brought up to seek out and fall in love with a wealthy farang. And my programming was far more effective than I’d ever believed possible.”
Georgina put her arm around her. “You were never really in love with this ‘Theodore’. That’s not what love is.”
“So what is it, then? If it’s not having sleepless nights and feeling jealous and wanting to be with that person - ”
“Even you’re not sure it was really love.”
“And that’s what’s so weird. How can I not be sure about that?”
“Because whatever you might think about having been ‘programmed’, deep inside, you’re just the same as everyone else.”
“I am?”
“Definitely.”
They listened to the breeze. Georgina said: “Shall I tell you what I honestly think?”
“Please.”
“I don’t think you’ll fall properly in love until you’re much older.”
“Like middle-aged? Who’s going to want me then?”
“Maybe you should start addressing that problem now.”
Outside, the wind changed direction and blew in from the ocean. They both had the same peculiar feeling. That somehow this conversation had been critical in ways they couldn’t have foreseen; that matters were about to slip out of their control. However unlikely, the Great Farang was about to arrive.
