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PERHAPS MARRYING CHARLES was a mistake. The way he’d proposed, maybe he thought it was a joke. Usually you didn’t know you’d taken a wrong turn until it was too late to go back. She didn’t know anyone in England, she’d have no one there to help her.
But it wouldn’t come to that. Probably all brides felt like this. Perhaps it would be unnatural to feel anything else. And thinking about it, she felt worst when she was alone. In company with Charles, she felt fine. The thing was, she’d be spending the rest of her life with Charles. Or most of it.
She and Tasanee were sitting on the sofa in clothes Charles had bought them, cream silk dresses with tight waists and shoulder-pads. Tonight they were holding the first half of the wedding-ceremony. Its culmination and completion would take place tomorrow.
There was a knock at the door. Charles and David Blameworth came in before either woman could move, wearing suits and grinning. David Blameworth had an empty bottle of champagne. Tasanee got up and embraced them.
Charles held his arms out to Noonie. “Where’s my poppet?”
She smiled and got up and embraced him.
“Not too nervous, eh?” he asked,
“Well, actually ...”
“Bound to be, bound to be. Don’t worry, you’re doing the right thing, you can rely on it.”
But he also looked nervous. More than nervous, in fact. He looked over his shoulder three times in succession. When he sat down, he focussed his eyes on an indeterminate point in front of him.
Five minutes later, Adirake and Solada arrived for their part in the double marriage. They knocked at the door and waited, and when Tasanee invited them in they held hands. Solada was wearing a nuwwarah dress and a hijab; Adirake wore his suit and a doppa. They Wai-ed everyone, then Adirake went round telling everyone he was only about to undergo part one of a Buddhist wedding ceremony for his sister’s sake and because Allah believed in religious tolerance.
“What’s he saying?” Charles asked David Blameworth.
“He’s saying he can’t wait to get married.”
The nine monks arrived, and everyone left the house for the street, where an area twice the size of Tasanee’s living room had been cordoned off with a blue rope and four stakes. A sizeable crowd had gathered. They burst into applause as everyone appeared. Tasanee distributed cakes and orange juice, and put straw mats and water-bottles down for the monks. The noise of conversation subsided. The two couples took their places facing the monks.
Taking a microphone handed to him by David Blameworth, the chief monk paid homage to Noonie’s ancestors then to Solada’s. Two of the monks tied sacred threads round each bride and groom, uniting them. Everyone applauded. David Blameworth took some photographs. The monks chanted mantras for each couple’s future happiness. The crowd joined in. More applause and it was over. The monks got to their feet, shook hands with both grooms and departed.
Most of Tasanee’s neighbours had brought food and drink and a party began. Noonie and Charles stood arm in arm, hardly speaking to one another, but exchanging the occasional kiss to make their guests ‘aaah’ and applaud.
Suddenly, a car was parping its horn and the crowds dispersed to let it through. It was the People Carrier Charles had chartered to ferry both couples to Wat Chalong, the Buddhist Temple a few miles outside Phuket Town. They and Tasanee and David Blameworth boarded it just as the sky was turning red. The crowd banged on the roof as it pulled away and waved and cheered and shouted kor sa dang kuam yin dee, congratulations, and chok di, good luck.
They arrived in Phuket Town twenty minutes later. They bowed to the statues of Luang Por Chaem, Luang Por Chuang and Luang Por Gluam and asked the conventional questions: how many children they’d have, whether they’d be healthy, whether they’d do honour to their families, gain good karma. David Blameworth showed them how to cast red bamboo root blocks to divine the answers. “Great news, every answer’s a yes,” he said, when they’d finished. Outside, a breeze drove hamburger cartons and empty crisp packets along the road. Tourists stopped to look.
They kissed and separated. When Noonie and Tasanee got home the crowds had gone. They went straight to bed.
The next day, David Blameworth and the manager of the Brunton Taylorforth made their way up to Charles’s room, two steps at a time. With twenty minutes still to go, there was plenty of potential for something to go wrong. Georgina Chappel, for example. She was plotting. She’d already said something to Charles that floored him – no one knew what, because no one had overheard and neither she nor Charles were telling. Inviting her was a recipe for disaster but apparently Noonie had insisted.
They knocked. The door was unlocked. They entered.
Charles was sitting on the edge of the canopy bed, dressed in his ceremonial Thai clothing with his head in his hands. The bed sheets were strewn as if someone had flung them and they’d fanned out mid flight. There were indents in the walls, the wardrobe doors were open and the drawers of the dresser had been entirely removed and the clothes inside tipped out, The mirror on the dresser was shattered.
“Oh my God,” the Manager said. “Are – are you okay, Mr Swinter? I’ll get Security.” He picked up the phone.
“Hang on, stop,” David Blameworth said.
“What’s the problem?”
“I think ... I think we ought to eliminate all the options first.”
“What the hell do you mean?”
“Charles? Charles, can you hear me?”
Charles nodded.
The manager drew his chin back. “Why wouldn’t he be able to hear you? He’s just there!”
“He’s on medication. Sometimes, it just ... reacts with things. Did he have anything to drink last night?”
“Alcohol, you mean?”
“Of course alcohol.”
“Probably. Wouldn’t you have?”
“In that case, just add the bill for the damage to his account. It’ll be okay.”
“What do you mean, ‘it’ll be okay’?”
“I mean, just add the bill for the damage to his account! These things happen. My God, it’s not like there’s been a rock band through here. Then you’d know what it means to have one of your rooms trashed. This is nothing.”
“I’m sorry, but that’s not much of a consolation.”
David Blameworth indicated that he wanted the manager to step into the corridor. He closed the door behind them. “Look, take a few things home for yourself, if you like. Add them to his account. He won’t know. He’s leaving tomorrow. This is his wedding day, for crying out loud. Are you going to ruin his wedding day for the sake of a few marks on the wall - ”
“I wasn’t suggesting anything of the sort.”
“We wouldn’t want to embarrass him in front of his guests. Here’s fifteen thousand Bahts, on condition you say nothing to anyone about this, okay?”
The manager looked at the money and put it in his back trouser-pocket. “It’s a while since I’ve done this, but I’ll take care of the mess personally.”
“That’s more like it. I’ll take care of him.”
“While we’re on the subject of embarrassing him in front of his guests, you might like to tell him he’s got his shoes on the wrong feet.”
“Charles. Charles!”
Charles looked into someone’s face. Someone he recognised. Someone who was shaking him.
“For God’s sake, Charles. Pull yourself together.”
It was David, the marriage-broker. How could he have forgotten David? His friend.
He could already feel his strength returning. He raised his head and focussed. “I’m okay.”
“What the hell are you looking at?”
Charles said nothing. There it was, behind David Blameworth, just as he might have expected. Two days ago, it had materialised three metres in front of him wherever he looked. And what had happened last night? What had changed? Yes, that’s right, he’d confronted it. He remembered the adrenalin, the feeling of being overwhelmed, the dereliction, as of a man with shattered limbs dumped in an open field. Something of what he’d endured lay all around him in the disarray. But it was scant witness to what had happened.
Noonie couldn’t help him any more, he knew that. Probably only prayer could help him now and even that was a long shot. But as he felt his strength returning, an instinct even stronger than self-preservation kicked in and he began to smooth down his hair.
He had to keep up appearances.
After thirty minutes, Noonie wondered if she’d been abandoned. She stood in her bridal dress with Adirake, Solada and Tasanee on the sands of Karon Beach. The sky was clear and the air warm. In front of them, the Buddhist monks of the previous evening had returned to complete what they’d begun. The hotel manager was there to translate, clutching a wad of papers and looking at his shoes. Around them, five hundred guests were fidgety. Some of Noonie’s old friends from her Upper Secondary days had a banner saying, ‘Congratulations, English Noonie’. An orchestra played traditional Thai music and western easy-listening.
“Where the hell is he?” Adirake said. “We only did last night for him. We’re having our real wedding later today, at the Mosque. If he’s any bloody longer we’ll be late.”
“I hope he hasn’t changed his mind,” Solada said.
“I’ll break his neck if he has,” he replied.
A cheer went up from the back of the crowd. Charles and David Blameworth hobbled down the road, Charles apparently supported by David Blameworth’s arm.
“That’s the English culture,” Solada said. “You’ll have to get used to it, girl.”
“What do you mean?” Noonie said.
Adirake smiled. “‘O Believers, the sin of alcohol is far greater than the benefit’. Surah Baqarah.”
“You’d think he could have waited till afterwards,” Solada said. “Sorry,” she said, in response to a black look from Tasanee. “Should mind my own business.”
“Sorry, sorry we’re late,” David Blameworth said. He was out of breath. “Charles, you get seated. I’ll explain later, Noonie, Tasanee. Let’s get going.”
Noonie and Charles sat facing each other and a string of beads was wrapped around their heads, joining them. They put their hands together and Wai-ed each other. Trays of food and envelopes full of money were put in front of each of the monks, and the prayers began. The hotel manager tied a white thread round Noonie’s wrist and again round Charles’s wrist and Wai-ed them.
Charles clearly had difficulty concentrating. Noonie was angry with him for humiliating her in front of Solada. She hoped he’d be able to get to the end of the ceremony without embarrassing her any further.
The hotel manager stepped behind them and faced the crowd. “Three million Bahts!”
There was a collective gasp, then applause. The manager held up the money and everyone clapped louder. The head monk stood up and silence fell as he sprinkled holy water over the congregation using a brush and a plastic container.
Suddenly, Tasanee was removing the beads from Noonie’s head, and kissing her and crying. David Blameworth shook Charles’s hand.
“Congratulations, Mr and Mrs Charles Swinter,” the manager said. Everyone cheered.
David Blameworth came over to Noonie and knelt down beside her. “Charles is ill,” he whispered.
“Ill?”
“Keep your voice down. He ate out last night, and it didn’t agree with him. I mean, it really didn’t agree with him.”
“We thought he’d been drinking,” Tasanee said.
“How ill is he?” Noonie said. “Charles, how ill are you?”
“Smell his breath, if you don’t believe me. There’s no alcohol. I wanted to postpone it. But he wouldn’t hear of it. He thought you might change your minds.”
“Never,” Noonie said. “Charles, how poorly are you?”
“I’m fine, dear,” Charles said.
“Oh my God, we’ve still got the evening meal to come. Someone had better call a doctor. And we’d better – I don’t know – we’d - ”
“He’s already seen a doctor,” David Blameworth said.
“Why didn’t you tell me about this earlier?”
“The doctor says he’s okay for the meal. He’s okay, he’s okay.”
“He doesn’t look okay. Why didn’t you tell me about this earlier?” she said.
“Because I didn’t, okay? Stop fretting: he’s going to be fine.”
“We’ll have to cancel the evening meal. Charles is all that’s important.”
“We can’t cancel the evening meal,” Tasanee said. “What will people think?”
“What’s it matter?”
People were starting to stare.
“Tasanee’s right, beauty,” Charles said. “The show’s got to go on.”
“So that settles it,” David Blameworth said. “Look, the taxi’s here. Stop prevaricating and get in.”
David Blameworth put Charles on the front seat and got in the back next to her. “Do your seatbelt up, Charles,” he said. “There’s a good chap.”
They returned to Chalong Temple so Noonie and Charles could do merit together. David Blameworth answered for Charles whenever he paused. Afterwards they went to the Town Hall for a marriage licence. David Blameworth filled in the paperwork and took the certificate for safe-keeping.
“Don’t thank me,” he said. “It’s all part of the service.”
Finally, they went back to the Brunton Taylorforth for the evening meal. By this time, Noonie just wanted everything over. It had been an awful day.
