‘That was close,’ Somsri said.
‘Actually, I think it was a blessing the mother showed up like that,’ Frank said. ‘Now she knows her child is sick.’
‘Perhaps.’ Somsri ran his tongue over his teeth. ‘Chaowalit did well.’
‘Yes, it was quick thinking on his part to call me. It bought us the time we needed. Speaking of timing, how long will the child stay under?’
‘A few hours yet. The dose I gave him should last long enough to get through the formalities.’
‘And the rise in body temperature?’
‘We put a lamp over the cot for a few minutes. Just long enough to heat him up a little.’
‘Simple but effective.’
The doctor nodded.
‘And all the paperwork’s in order?’
Somsri nodded again.
‘Good, good,’ Frank said. ‘I’m going to head over to the orphanage and make sure all the volunteers leave on time.
You’ve teed up the meeting with your contact from the Board?’
‘Yes, though it will cost more to have him come outside business hours.’
Frank held up one hand. ‘Not my jurisdiction,’ he said, still smarting from their recent phone conversation. ‘It’s up to you to handle that.’
He took leave of the doctor and made his way out of the compound. He was content with proceedings, though he felt sullied by the mother’s performance. What did that shameless whore think she was doing, throwing herself at him like that? She almost knocked him off his feet. Frank tried to recall if she’d made contact with his skin. The possibility made him shudder.
More than ever, Frank was convinced God had sent him to Pattaya to restore order to chaos. Some women with children were not fit to be mothers. Others fit to be mothers were denied children. It was Frank’s duty to right these wrongs.
Jayne was not the maternal type. When her contemporaries married and started having children, one after the other, it seemed they’d all succumbed to an epidemic to which Jayne alone seemed immune. She fled the country and became an expatriate largely because her aspirations when it came to marriage, mortgages and children were so at odds with those of her family and peers. That they were also at odds with the vast majority of Thai people—who always asked how many children she had and looked crestfallen to learn she had none—was beside the point. As a foreigner, she was allowed to be different. What made her a misfit at home added to her exoticism in Thailand.
Her time in the orphanage was doing little to change her mind. The toddlers were amusing, the way they walked like zombies and struggled to speak Thai and English—or German in little Gai/Rolfe’s case. But all you could do with a baby was put food in one end and clean up the shit that came out the other.
‘Everyone is special’, proclaimed the poster on the wall, the slogan emblazoned over a photograph of a penguin colony. ‘We are all God’s children’, advised another that featured an image of a warthog.
They reminded Jayne to keep her uncharitable thoughts to herself and she read them over and over throughout the day when she felt herself at risk of slipping out of character.
She read them again in the late afternoon as she and Dianne paced the playroom, each with an infant over one shoulder, waiting for them to burp. Jayne was carrying the baby with the mohawk, whose name was Ant. Dianne carried the tiny newborn Nok.
‘She was abandoned at the hospital a couple of days ago, poor thing,’ Dianne told Jayne. ‘They say her mother was probably that teenage prostitute whose body was found on the weekend.’
‘I know the one you mean, I read about it in the local paper. Poor girl.’
‘Oh, she’ll be okay,’ Dianne said. ‘In fact, she’s probably much better off. She’ll be cared for here for a while and then get adopted overseas into a well-off family.’
I was talking about the mother, Jayne wanted to say, but the penguins and warthogs told her to bite her tongue. She patted Ant on the back a little faster than necessary.
‘It’s the thing I love about this work,’ Dianne continued, cradling Nok’s head in her hand. ‘It feels good to be part of an organisation devoted to improving children’s lives. New Life—the name says it all.’
‘Doesn’t it,’ Jayne said, adding self-consciously, ‘Praise the Lord.’
She glanced at the warthog, wondering if she was laying it on a bit thick. He raised an eyebrow but Dianne beamed.
‘You know, you’re amazing Jayne. Everyone is talking about how you’ve taken on all the dirty work around here with no complaints. It takes a special person to do that.’
Jayne flushed in spite of herself.
‘Frank must think very highly of you.’
‘I’ve hardly seen him.’
‘Ah, but as he’ll tell you himself, Frank has very good instincts when it comes to people.’
Jayne felt something warm and wet hit her shoulder.
‘And he must think you’re really special to have trusted this work to you.’
The warm, wet stuff started to trickle down Jayne’s back.
‘So what are your plans for this evening?’ Dianne said.
‘There’s this new place opened in town that serves fondue.
A few of us thought we might try it out.’
She was saved from answering by the appearance of Frank Harding.
‘Just dropped by to see how you’re all getting on,’ he said. ‘How’re you going, Jayne?’
‘Fine,’ she said, backing away towards the bathroom.
‘Busy.’
He chuckled as if she were joking. ‘Dianne keeping you on your toes is she?’ He smiled at the volunteer.
‘Actually, she’s pretty low-maintenance, whereas these babies…I’m sorry, you’ll have to excuse me. I need to get cleaned up.’
Frank held up his hand. ‘It’s good to hear you’re settling in.’
‘Absolutely,’ she said. ‘Loving it.’
Baby spew was sliding down Jayne’s back, headed for the waistband of her jeans. How had Ant managed to vomit under her T-shirt?
‘You shouldn’t overdo it, especially in the first few weeks.’
‘Right,’ Jayne nodded.
‘Don’t feel obliged to stay late.’
‘Okay then.’
There was an awkward moment when both of them waited for the other to speak.
‘Well then—’ Frank said.
‘I’ll be—’ Jayne said at the same time.
‘Go on,’ Frank said.
‘I really need to get cleaned up.’
He glanced at his watch. ‘Yes, of course, don’t let me keep you.’
It was too late to salvage her jeans. Ant had fallen asleep and Jayne handed her over to one of the Thai staff on her way to the bathroom. She mopped up the vomit as best she could. But the smell clung to her as she headed back to the hotel causing her fellow songthaew passengers to screw up their noses and give her a wide berth. They probably thought she’d been drinking.
I should be so lucky, Jayne thought.
Frank Harding had a nerve, counselling her not to work late. Jayne couldn’t get out of there fast enough. Fuck the penguins. Fuck the warthogs. And fuck the fondue. The minute she got cleaned up, she was heading out for a beer, a smoke and a game of pool—preferably all at the same time.