The voices are coming from far away, mumbled and jumbled and incoherent, as if they are underwater, or else I’m in a dream. My body is being shaken, and I feel everything rattle inside me. There’s a sharp chemical taste in the back of my throat, and what starts with a cough soon turns into near choking as my eyes fly open and I try to sit up.
‘Jesus Christ! Earth to Violet! Thought you were never going to wake up.’
The face swims into my vision, and I squint. I open my mouth, ‘Martin?’ My voice is a hoarse croak. I cough again.
‘Wow, your breath stinks. What the hell have you been drinking?’
I lick my lips, and they are dry and cracked. I try to sit up, but my head protests. Everything goes black and red and spins around and around, until I close my eyes and lie back down again. ‘Carrie?’ I manage.
‘Carrie has managed to throw up whatever it is that you two space cadets took last night. She’s outside, waiting. We’re all waiting. We need to get back to UB.’
‘UB?’ It takes me a long time to work out where I am and where I am meant to be going, but then I open my eyes again and I recognise the internal walls of the ger. The colourful hangings. The smoke hole at the top. I need a drink.
Martin reads my mind. ‘You’re in luck. One of Sarnai’s friends brought supplies for the next tour group. Apparently we could’ve had stuff like this too but it wasn’t offered. Anyway, we were more authentic. I can get you some milk tea if you like.’ He’s holding a can of Coke, and he pretends to take it away again, just as my hand goes to grab it. He lets me have it, the ring-pull already popped, and I drink it greedily. It’s freezing cold and it burns down the rawness of my throat. I feel like I might stop breathing, but at this moment, I don’t even care.
‘Don’t know what happened to you two last night. We lost you in the crowd after the ceremony. That was something else, wasn’t it? I’m definitely going to pursue the spiritual connections I’ve made on this trip. I’m quite excited about going home. Getting started on my new plans for life.’ He leans down and rubs my shoulder. ‘I had thought that maybe … you know, yesterday … that me and you…’
‘Please stop talking. My head can’t cope right now.’
He sighs, stares out of the open door. ‘I tried to get it out of Carrie, but she reckons she can’t remember what you two got up to last night either.’
Good, I think. I don’t want to remember right now. My body aches from head to toe, and what I’d really like is another Coke, a handful of heavy-duty painkillers, and maybe a hot bath. I realise that this combination would likely kill me on its own, never mind whatever it is that is still in my system from last night. I close my eyes again, trying to remember last night, but the last thing that’s stored in there is watching the ceremony. Everyone chanting and throwing milk in the air. After that is a yawning chasm of complete blank.
It’s far from the first time I’ve had a blackout after drinking and drugs – I am assuming I have taken drugs, smoked something hard core, because my throat is in ruins, and I can smell the stale, cloying scent on my clothes. I know that bit by bit, the fragments of lost memory will come back to me, haunting me, shaming me – and I know that some bits will never come back at all. Between me and Carrie, I imagine we’ll be able to piece most of it back together, but there’s no guarantee.
‘Come on, get packed. We’re leaving in ten.’ Martin puts another can of Coke on the floor beside my bed and disappears back outside. He’s pissed off with me, which is fair enough, I suppose. He probably imagined some tantric sex on top of that miniature mountain with the pile of stones on top. If he’s pissed off, Rory must be fuming.
I sit up slowly, and notice that Martin has also left me a packet of painkillers next to my second can of Coke. Even annoyed, he’s a good Boy Scout. I feel bad for leading him on, but it’d just been one of those things, caught in the moment. There was never a hope that I’d sleep with him. I take a sip and lick again at my chapped lips. They don’t just feel dry, but cracked at the edges, and a bit swollen and bruised. A memory hits me. Carrie’s voice: Close your eyes. Carrie’s touch: her fingers on my lips.
The sound of the Land Rover starting up knocks the rest of the memory away. It’s so close to the surface, I know it’ll come back. I pick up my backpack, and, ignoring the pounding in the back of my skull, I throw everything inside. There’s something stuffed into the side pocket, taking up the space where I usually put my smaller toiletries, so I shove them into the main section instead. I don’t bother to see what it is. I can sort the bag out properly later, before we get back on the train.
They’re all waiting for me in the van.
‘Morning, Violet,’ Sarnai says. ‘I think you had a good time at the festival last night?’ She giggles, and I manage to give her a small smile.
Carrie is wedged up against the window, her head against her rolled-up hoodie. She has her bag beside her on the seat so that no one can sit next to her. She doesn’t speak but a flash of her eyes tells me that she’s just as messed up as I am right now. She looks grey and clammy. I imagine I must look the same.
‘About time,’ Rory mutters. He’s in the same position as Carrie, one seat in front. I ignore him, and take the single seat behind Martin, who, at least, manages a proper smile.
‘You look a bit better than you did half an hour ago.’
‘I don’t feel it.’
None of us says anything else for a while. The atmosphere is heavy. Subdued. And I wonder if Carrie or me did something embarrassing – something that the others know about but we don’t. I have no idea how we got home, so I suspect someone must’ve helped us. But I don’t want to ask any questions. I don’t want them to think that I have no idea of what happened in the last few hours. I realise that I don’t even have any concept of how long a period of time is missing from my memory.
The Land Rover bumps hard across the dusty steppe roads, and it’s all I can do to take small sips of water from the bottle that Martin gave me when I sat down. Rory and Carrie are asleep, which I think is miraculous under the conditions – but sometimes sleep overrides everything.
‘It’s been quite an adventure,’ Martin says to me, at last. ‘I’m glad we met up with you two. Shame we’re going in different directions now.’
We were always going in different directions, but I don’t tell him that.
‘Any tips for Beijing?’
I can see the high-rises of UB on the horizon. We’re still trundling across the harsh earth, barely a thing around us except for sparse grass and the outlines of the mountains far away on either side. ‘Well, it’s got a lot more people in it than this place.’
‘Nine million bicycles,’ he says.
‘At least. Oh, that’s a song isn’t it?’
He starts singing, and he’s not bad. Shame we didn’t get to go to karaoke. ‘Is the smog as bad as they say?’ he asks.
‘Worse. You think you can see it but you can’t, really. It just looks like thick, grey skies. But you can feel it. You can taste it. It squeezes your head like a vice. And there’s so much noise, and colour and everything is just…’
‘Frenetic?’
I nod. ‘Yes, frenetic. I’ll tell you where I went for a bit of quiet time – weirdly. There’s a shopping mall under the Hyatt with a food court, with loads of brilliant food. It’s called the Oriental Plaza. Amazingly, it’s not really a tourist kind of place, and you can just eat and chill and no one will bother you in there.’
‘Sounds great.’ He twists around in his seat to face me. ‘Anything else?’
‘There’s a great dumpling shop off the Wangfujing pedestrian street. I think they have about fifty different fillings and it’s so cheap. They’re completely addictive and I recommend having at least five portions.’ I feel saliva building at the back of my mouth at the thought of this. I wish I’d stayed a little longer, now. Not got so hung up on getting the train when I did. But I was lonely. It’s easy to forget that now, with these people that I have formed a strange and intimate bond with. If I’d stayed, I wouldn’t have been in the travel centre that day, and I wouldn’t have met Carrie.
Carrie is what took my mind off Sam.
I wonder what he’s doing right now, but I don’t even bother looking as I know my phone is dead. As soon as we get back to the hostel, I’ll charge it and have a look. It’s only been a couple of days since I checked his feed – but a lot can happen in a couple of days.
I rub at my face. It feels itchy, like something is crawling on it. ‘Go to Qianmen Quanjude for Peking duck, too. They present the head on a little plate – it’s meant to be a delicacy. I had to keep it covered up with a napkin so I could eat the rest of the thing.’
‘Bloody hell, stop talking about food. I could eat a scabby horse.’ Carrie’s voice is as rough as mine feels.
‘You could’ve eaten that stupid little horse that kept throwing me off. Best thing for it.’
‘You two are revolting,’ Rory says, joining in.
‘You’re going to China now, you idiot,’ I say. ‘You can eat anything there. You probably will.’
‘I think I’m becoming a vegetarian,’ he says. ‘Well, maybe after a final burger in that Irish Bar before we leave. What do you reckon, ladies? Want to join.’
Carrie rolls her eyes at me then leans back into the window. ‘The only place I’m going tonight is bed.’
‘Game on,’ Rory says, clapping his hands.
Carrie pulls her hoodie over her face. ‘Not with you. Ever.’
Another memory hits me. People clapping. Carrie pulling her dress up over her head, spinning around, unhooking her bra. I close my eyes and lean my head against the window, waiting for more to resurface. Trying to bring it closer.
Trying to push it away.