Chapter 9
1256 Words
Chapter 9
The night bus left Bangkok in the early evening, heading south. Frank’s head felt like it was lagging a few feet behind him, due to the relentless drinking nights that Richard had persuaded him to go on. He exhaled in relief and was glad to be leaving the manic city behind him and fell into a deep sleep.
Around five o’clock the following morning the coach pulled into Surat Thani; the bright sunlight already bathing the streets in a yellow glow despite the early hour. Frank grabbed his bag and headed off to find out the boat times to Koh Samui. Scanning the timetable, Frank could make no sense of it and wandered over to a nearby café to ask the owner. A tall, burly, dark-haired man had the same idea and was turning back from talking to the small, jovial faced proprietor.
“There’s a six-hour wait,” he said to Frank’s unasked question.
“For the boat to Samui?” Frank asked.
“Aye. You’d think they’d put ’em on more regular, like.”
The big man slung his huge backpack down next to a table in a way which suggested he was going no further. Frank joined him for breakfast, ordering banana pancakes and coffee whilst the Irishman ordered half the menu. He offered his massive hand to Frank.
“Jimmy,” he said, a smile forming across his broad, deep-set features. Jimmy was a bus driver from Lisburn, Northern Ireland. But driving buses was just one of a long list of occupations. He’d taken off two years previously and had been over the Americas and was now covering Asia. They drank bottles of rice whiskey to pass the time until finally their ‘Coconut boat’, a two-level transporter that crammed in as many travellers as possible, was available for the crossing.
Once they had both finally arrived on the island, the two men found a tuk-tuk and headed for a stretch of beach called Choeng Mon, which Jimmy had heard about. They found a bungalow each, behind the guesthouse restaurant but only metres from the beach. They did their own thing in the day and met up for meals in the guesthouse restaurant, Frank burning his mouth on Coconut Soup and Thai style curries, which he was developing a taste for, and Jimmy trying everything without hesitation. The menu was geared to tourist ‘Farangs’ and wasn’t very adventurous, but Jimmy managed to persuade the waitress to deliver ‘off the menu’ real Thai food.
One balmy evening, after dinner, Frank took his leather waist bag with his money and passport to the reception to book a boat trip, while Jimmy decided to stretch his legs and walk up the beach. Then he spotted that the best hammock on the beach was free and decided to grab it.
Swinging lazily, Frank watched the sun disappear below the horizon amid magical colours of the emerald sea. Daydreaming of the next stop on his trip; he weighed up whether to head to Penang in Malaysia or to carry on down the coast of Thailand to Kota Bharu.
The light faded fast and Frank finally went to return his money bag to the guesthouse safe, but no one was around at reception. He walked back to his hut, stashed the bag in the bottom of his rucksack, locked the door and headed for the beach to see if he could catch up with Jimmy. A Thai man in black shirt and long shorts walked past him, avoiding his eye.
The beach became deserted once past the last busy bar that catered to a happy drunk crowd, apart from the sounds of the lapping sea. Pink and neon blue lights winked in the darkness ahead and Frank moved towards them, stumbling in the thick darkness. The lights turned out to be a small lonely bar and Frank made out a Thai woman serving a man. Getting closer, he recognised Jimmy’s distinct Northern Irish accent.
“Hey Jimmy, had a good night?” Frank said as he patted him on the back and pulled up a stool.
“Hey, Frankie, how’re ya doing there? This is Mimi,” he gestured to the middle-aged woman, who gave Frank a broad smile.
Frank eased onto another stool and slapped his Lucky Strikes onto the bar top.
“Very nice to meet you, Mimi. I’ll have what he’s having.”
Mimi grabbed a bottle from the cooler and put it in front of Frank with another beautiful smile before disappearing around the back.
“So, been in touch with anyone back home?” asked Frank, as he started to pull off the bottle label, bit by bit.
“Home? Yeah, haven’t been back there for a while. To be honest, there are a lot of bad memories back there,” Jimmy’s huge forearms dominated the bar and he shrugged.
“Ahh, sorry to hear that, Jimmy. We’re all running from something I guess.”
“Well, my da’ was killed in an I.R.A. bomb when I was fifteen or so. He was a policeman. It was a kick in the teeth for a lad to lose his father like that.”
Frank shook his head. “I’m really sorry mate, I didn’t realise. I lost my parents when I was young. Car crash.”
Jimmy grimaced in sympathy and he held up his beer: “To loved ones.” A clink of bottles. “Yes, let’s drink to that.”
The light began to break as the two men staggered through the sand. The orange glow of a rising sun sparkled on the sea, revealing a fishing boat out on the bay.
“This is the best thing I ever did, so it is,” Jim started, admiring the same view Frank was.
“All those shitty days of packing, driving and shovelling crap in people’s gardens. It’s like, why doesn’t everyone just take off, leave it all behind? This is what I’m gonna do from now on, Franky boy, jus’ work when I can and travel and enjoy the world’s beauty whenever possible.”
“Exactly right,” Frank agreed.
As they approached their line of huts in the early morning light, Frank noticed something was wrong. The towel he’d left hanging outside was strewn over the steps, his door was slightly ajar and, with a sinking feeling, he suddenly noticed the damage of a forced entry on the frame. Inside, his clothes were strewn over the floor. He dived down into his bag, desperately looking for his money and passport. Both were gone.
“s**t!”
“I’d better check my hut too,” said Jimmy and he quickly moved across the yard.
Frank tried to retrace his steps in his alcohol-riddled mind.
Jim returned after a couple of minutes.
“My place too, only I left my valuables with the restaurant owners.”
Frank stood up, looking around, flushed with anger. “s**t! I just cashed in a large travellers’ check!” he punched the wooden wall suddenly, with the side of his fist, and stepped outside, looking around angrily, as if the culprit might just still be hanging around.
He slumped down on the steps to his bungalow, sobering up quickly as the realisation hit that he was now virtually penniless, apart from the small amount of money he had on him.
***
“Hi … Richard?” There was a pause on the line.
“This is Richard.”
“It’s Frank, from Bangkok. We went to Pat Pong. Remember?”
“Oh yes, Frank. How are you? Enjoying the sights?”
“Yes, or I was. I have a little financial problem. I was thinking about your offer.”
“I see. Sorry to hear that. Where are you now?”
“Well I’m at Suret Thani, I’ve just been to Koh Samuri.”
“Can you go to Krabi? I have a friend there.”
“No problem.”
“Great. Find the ‘Bird House’ in Krabi town. It’s very quiet down there. You’ll meet a guy called Greg. Be there by the fifteenth; that gives you a week. He’ll give you everything you need.”
“Thanks. Listen, I’ve a friend in the same boat, we both got robbed at the same time. He’s an Irish fella. Is there anything he could do? He’s broke as well.”
Richard exhaled slowly over the line.
“I’m not sure. Probably not right now, not this time, but we’ll see … maybe something later. What’s his name?”
“It’s Jimmy Duffy, but it’s no problem, Rich. Thanks, mate.”
“Goodbye, Frank.” The line went dead.
- Writer
