They had been driving almost fifteen minutes when she noticed that there was no reading on the meter. She tapped the driver on the shoulder.
‘You forgot to set the meter.’
His grin revealed a set of crooked brown teeth. ‘Not working. I give you good price.’
She sighed and sat back in the seat. She didn’t suppose there was any point in arguing about it. She would just have to pay whatever he asked. She closed her eyes again and felt a wave of fatigue sweep over her. For a moment she was back home on the rug in front of the fire, warm and slightly drunk, David there, hot hands on her breasts, his soft whisper at her neck, It’ll be alright, Lisa. It’ll be alright. And then she was jerked back to the present as the taxi drew in abruptly at the doors of the Narai, the driver grinning at her from the front.
‘Four hundred baht.’ She did not bother to work out the exchange equivalent, but handed him the notes in the certain knowledge that she was being fleeced. Definitely no tip, she thought. He pulled the lever to release the boot as she got out.
She heaved her case out along with the rest of her bits and pieces and was damned if she was going to close the lid. She turned on the steps as the taxi pulled sharply away, and the lid swung down and snapped shut on its own.
Air conditioning, she decided, when she had passed through the sliding glass doors, was the best thing ever invented. She put down her case and stood for a moment, drinking in the cool sweet air, almost chill after the heat outside. It’s strange, she thought, how when you are hot you cannot believe you could ever be cold again. As when you are cold, being warm is hard to imagine. She smiled to herself, feeling better. She’d got here, hadn’t she? And she picked up her case and walked past the curious, faintly hostile stares of the girls in the Don Juan bar, to the reception desk.
‘Lisa Elliot. I have a reservation.’ The girl pushed her a form to fill out and asked to see her passport. ‘Can you tell me what room Mr Jack or John Elliot is staying in?’
The girl checked through her files and shook her head. ‘I am sorry, Mr Elliot checked out two nights ago.’
Lisa lay back in her room numb with disappointment. To have come halfway across the world and miss him by only forty-eight hours! The sergeant had not told her exactly what her father was doing here, though she suspected that she might not want to know. But she had expected him to be here for some time. She took a piece of paper from her shoulder bag and unfolded it. Tuk Than. Sukhumvit Road, Bangkok. She would call in the morning.
She washed and undressed ready for bed, and out of idle curiosity switched on the television set. The previous occupant of the room had left it on the video channel and the late movie was a soft porn one. God, she thought. Sex! The world was obsessed with it. She pressed the top button on the set and caught an old episode of Rawhide dubbed into Thai. The dialogue bore no relation to the lip movements, and it seemed incongruous to see a young Clint Eastwood squawking in a guttural alien tongue. She lay down on the bed, head propped against a pillow, and watched with amusement, eyes growing heavy as she drifted in a state that was neither sleep nor wakefulness. From somewhere deep in the memory of the Lisa she had been, she seemed to recall having seen a rerun of this episode as a child. She tried to remember how it went, but it was as elusive as her father, not quite tangible and always just out of reach.
She woke at eight to the hiss of the television, the screen a shifting mass of white dots. She dragged herself wearily out of bed and wondered if she had slept at all. She still felt just as tired as the night before. A coffee and croissant in the pizzeria downstairs helped to revive her, though she became uncomfortably aware of the many eyes that watched her here in the hotel lobby. Men and women seemed equally curious, though there was an intent in the dark eyes of some men that frightened her. She supposed it was unusual for a young Western girl to be on her own in a place like this.
Back in her room, she asked the hotel exchange to get her a number for Tuk Than. She rang several times over the next hour, but there was no reply. Her spirits, which had lifted a little with the morning, sank once again, and she began to think this whole trip was nothing more than a wild goose chase. She lay back on the bed and wondered what to do. She could always phone later, or even call round to the house. In the afternoon, perhaps. But what would she do till then? The city scared her. A place like Bangkok, a girl on her own.
Oh, to hell, she thought. I’ve come all this way, I’m damned if I’m going to spend the entire time sitting in a hotel room. And, anyway, if I’m ever to be a reporter... She remembered reading in a magazine on the plane an article about the Grand Palace. So she showered, and changed, put on her make-up, then went boldly down to the lobby and left her key at reception.
The city beckoned through the glass doors, a bustling street thick with traffic and people. She summoned all her courage and went out, and the heat wrapped around her like a hot, wet blanket. The heat. She had forgotten about the heat, and her courage wilted in it.
‘Taxi?’ One of several men loitering in a group outside approached her, touts trying to scrape a living from the tourists. He leered at her suggestively.
She hesitated, for a moment about to turn back to the safety of the hotel, then looked him straight in the eye and said with a confidence she did not feel, ‘Yes, please.’
He seemed surprised. ‘You wait.’ And he went down on to the pavement and waved an arm at the passing stream of cars. Almost immediately a white car with a taxi sign on the roof pulled in at the kerbside and a good-looking young man, with short, dark hair and a disarming smile, leaned across from the driver’s side and rolled down the window. The two men had a brief exchange, then the driver nodded and got out the car. ‘This man will take you,’ the tout said.
Lisa felt quite pleased with herself. Perhaps she would manage better than she had hoped. She passed the tout a few coins and he grinned and nodded his thanks. The young driver opened the rear passenger door for her. And now she was surprised. Things were looking up after the unpleasant experience of the night before. She smiled and got in, grateful for the cool of the air-conditioned interior. ‘Thank you.’
The driver spoke a polite, stilted English and, she thought, he really was very good-looking. ‘Where would you like to go?’
‘I have some time to kill. I thought I’d see the Grand Palace.’
‘You are tourist, then?’
‘Sort of.’ And she supposed that’s what she was, although it was not what she had come for.
‘If you want, I take you on tour of Bangkok.’
She hesitated. That might come quite expensive. But she had money, hadn’t she? She could afford it. ‘Why not? Starting at the Grand Palace.’
‘Okay.’ He smiled at her and leaned on the back of the seat, waiting, as though expecting her to say something more. Then, ‘How much?’ he asked.
She frowned. ‘Well — just set the meter.’
His smile widened and he shook his head at her naivety. ‘In Bangkok,’ he said, ‘all taxis have meters. But they never work. You must agree price before or else driver will rip you off.’
‘Oh.’ She was not at all used to this. ‘Well — how much do you want?’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘You want me rip you off?’
She laughed at his directness. ‘I’d rather you didn’t. But I’ve really no idea how much.’
He began to laugh. ‘You are too innocent, lady.’ He thought for a moment. ‘Two hundred baht, and I take you anywhere you want for the day.’