‘Oh.’ She looked at the dwindling number of notes in her purse. ‘I need to change some more money.’
‘Is not problem. I will take you to money changer.’
In a small, airless room at the back of a shop in a nearby sidestreet, an obsequious little man with no hair and one tooth changed a traveller’s cheque for her. Sivara sat waiting impassively in a chair at the back of the room, looking cool in his neatly pressed white shirt. ‘Is this the proper rate of exchange?’ she asked him.
He nodded gravely. ‘It is very good rate, Lisa. This man is friend of mine.’
Lisa didn’t much like the look of Sivara’s friend, but he passed her a bundle of notes in exchange for her cheque and didn’t even ask to see her passport. It was certainly simpler than going to the bank and, she thought, he had a funny face. When he closed his mouth his single yellow peg of a tooth protruded over his lower lip. But she was glad to get back to the taxi, sitting in the front now beside Sivara, as they drove down to the landing stage at the Oriental Hotel.
Sivara got them a hang yao and told her she would have to pay the driver, but that he had got her a very good price. She paid and sat behind Sivara, holding on to his shoulders as the long sleek boat powered its way down the Chao Phraya river and into the Klong Dao Kanong. Children, standing waist-deep in the klong water, waved as they passed. A boatload of saffron-robed monks smiled serenely. Lisa was exhilarated by the wind in her face, the spray from the water, the sights and sounds of an alien culture; teak houses on stilts, rickety bridges, and the dozens of boats, sampans, water-buses and rice barges that trafficked up and down the klongs. Old ladies, wearing reed-woven sunhats like upturned lampshades, sold hot meals from floating kitchens.
The floating market at Thonburi was thick with tourists and boats selling all manner of goods, from vegetables and live chickens to opium pipes and herbal remedies. Dozens of boats bobbed gently together on the water, owners engaged in lively conversations with competitors, or bargaining with potential buyers.
Sivara got their driver to cruise slowly among the boats so that Lisa could look at everything. She bought them some fruit, a straw hat for herself and, despite his protests, a couple of shirts for Sivara. ‘That’s for being so good to a stranger in Bangkok,’ she said and kissed him lightly on the cheek. She did not see the look in his eyes, only the smile.
They bought drinks from one boat. A concoction of various fruit juices and Thai whisky. Lisa was a little dubious. But Sivara encouraged her. ‘Is very good. Very refreshing,’ he said. ‘You like it.’ And she did. It was cold and sweet, and she felt a glow across her cheeks. ‘Another?’
‘No,’ she laughed. ‘I think I’ve had quite enough. I feel as though I’m getting very drunk.’ But more than the drink, she was intoxicated by the seductive allure of the Orient, by her new undreamed-of freedom, by the good-looking young Asian man who so clearly found her attractive.
On the way back she put her arms around his waist and rested her head on his back. ‘I’m so tired,’ she whispered. ‘So tired.’ He turned his head to look back and smile at her, and he squeezed one of her hands. She barely noticed.
It was almost dark when they got back to the Oriental landing stage, and Lisa put her arm through his as they walked to the taxi. ‘I have to go back to the hotel,’ she said, suddenly remembering. ‘I have to make a phone call.’ She turned to him as he opened the car door for her. ‘Thank you, Sivara. I’ve had a really lovely day.’
He smiled, his hand brushing her arm. ‘I enjoy it, too, Lisa.’
She got in beside him and they drove through the dark streets in silence. She felt pleased with herself. For a novice in these matters she had managed very well on her first day in the mysterious East. She was even beginning to get used to the heat.
They seemed to be driving for a long time through dark, narrow streets, away from the main thoroughfares. The buildings on either side were very old and shrouded in night. ‘Are we nearly there?’ she asked.
‘I must collect parcel from friend first,’ Sivara said. ‘Will not be long.’ And for the first time she had a dark sense of foreboding.
‘Couldn’t you drop me off first?’
‘Quicker this way.’
‘Please, Sivara. I must make that phone call.’
‘Shut up!’ His voice was sharp and ugly and hit her like a slap in the face. Her heart was thumping.
‘Sivara, stop the car, I want to get out.’ She grabbed the wheel, and he turned and struck her viciously across the mouth with the back of his hand. The blow knocked her sideways and she struck her head hard against the side window. She felt dizzy and sick and her mind was fogged with fear and confusion. Why was he doing this? He had been so lovely, so kind.
The car turned into a blind alley and jerked to a halt. She heard the driver’s door open, and then he was round at the passenger side, opening the door and dragging her out. She tried to pull away, but felt weak and sick and he was much too strong, hands holding her wrists with a grip like a vice.
‘Sivara, please...’ He threw her back against the wall and she struck her head hard and slid to the ground. She was aware of him grabbing her bag and taking out her passport and purse. He dropped the passport and pushed the purse into a back pocket and threw the bag away. Then he was standing over her, undoing the buckle of his belt. The mischief in his eyes had been replaced by lust and malice.
‘English slut!’ he hissed.
She tried to get to her feet, but he grabbed the neck of her T-shirt, ripping it away and exposing her breasts. Then he punched her in the face and her world went black.
The doctor looked cool in his white suit. He had cropped, silver hair and a wrinkled, brown face. He was carrying a small black bag in his right hand. Tuk was waiting for him in the hall at the foot of the stairs. He led him through to the study and poured them both a drink. He could smell the spice of the doctor’s aftershave. ‘Well?’ he asked, and handed him his drink.
The doctor took a sip. ‘She is concussed, of course. Has several nasty contusions about her face and wrists. But nothing serious, nothing broken. She is also in a state of shock. She should rest for several days.’
Tuk nodded thoughtfully. ‘And?’ he asked.
‘There was no intercourse,’ the doctor said.
‘How can you be sure?’
The doctor smiled. ‘Because she is still intact.’
Tuk was surprised. A virgin! ‘What age would you say she is?’
The doctor shrugged. ‘Late teens — eighteen, nineteen.’
‘You will make your report to the police, of course.’
‘Of course.’
Lisa opened her eyes and saw nothing but white, a brightness that almost blinded her. She felt as though her head were stuffed with cotton wool, and through it there was a distant sensation of pain. She closed her eyes and opened them again more slowly. This time, form gradually took shape in the light. Something dark passing in long, slow sweeps over her face. She tried to focus. It was a ceiling fan turning lazily in the heat. Now she felt the draught of it. As she tried to lift her head the pain drew closer, but she saw that she was in a large, square room with white walls and slatted wardrobes. Full-length white curtains were drawn on tall windows and a curious scent of spice hung in the air. A big soft bed enfolded her, her head sunk deep in a voluminous pillow. And then she realized that under the sheets she was naked, and she had a momentary, flickering image of Sivara standing over her, a face distorted by lust.
But full recollection was slow in returning. It came in fragments, pieces of a jigsaw that made no sense. Then, suddenly, the whole picture was clear to her, the full horror returning, and she tried to sit up, panic rising in her like bile. But her body would not respond.