| General Fiction posted December 11, 2018 | Chapters: |
...28 29 -30- 31... 
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  |
Escape from Bangkok
A chapter in the book The French Letter
Kayla's Story - continued
by tfawcus
| Background Helen is reunited with her sister, Kayla, who is telling the story of what happened to her in Thailand after they became separated in Bangkok. |
from Chapter 29:
“It wasn’t until the next day that I discovered that I had killed him. It was all over the front page of the Bangkok Post. Does that answer your question?”
Helen looked stunned. I shifted uncomfortably, not knowing what to say.
Eventually, after a long pause, Helen said, “…and then what?”
Chapter 30
“…and then I panicked. There was no way that I could remain in Bangkok. I didn’t even dare to contact you, knowing how close you were to Jeanne. If you had known where I was, she’d have found a way to force the information from you.”
Helen looked sceptical. “But you could at least have let me know you were safe. I was worried witless about you. Why didn’t you leave a message for me in the apartment?”
“I would have, but Bukhari’s men were waiting for me. I went home, intending to pack a few things, but they were already in the street below. It was lucky that I spotted them in time to slip down a side alley. Realising what danger I was in, I headed straight for the railway station.”
“That explains why there was nothing to suggest you had left. Everything was in its usual place when I got back home that evening, and I only started to worry when I woke up the following morning, and found that you hadn’t slept in your bed.”
A look of concern crossed Helen's face as Kayla staggered to her feet without replying, and made her way unsteadily to the bathroom.
“Ease up on the drinks, Charles. It looks as though my big sister has had more than enough.”
Strange gurgling sounds from the bathroom suggested that was a distinct probability.
“Are you all right in there?” Helen called out. The only answer was a flushing toilet. Kayla emerged soon afterwards, somewhat dishevelled, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
“Here, let me get you a drink of water,” I said.
“Thanks. I’m sorry. I haven’t had anything to eat since this morning, and that orange juice concoction of yours went straight to my head.”
“Straight to your stomach, more like, poor girl.” Helen passed her a box of tissues, while I rustled up a ham sandwich, a hunk of cheese, and a few dry biscuits.
“That’s the best I can do at short notice, I’m afraid.” I put them on the coffee table in front of her. Kayla smiled weakly, and reached out for one of the dry biscuits.
“I was strapped for cash. All I had was my purse and the clothes I had on.” She brushed a few crumbs from the corner of her mouth, and took a sip of water before continuing. “I decided to go to Phuket. I knew there was a good chance of picking up a job in one of the nightclubs in Patong.” She glanced across in my direction. “It’s always crawling with tourists there - mainly Chinese and Russians, and a lot of ocker Australians looking for a good time.” The corners of her mouth turned down with obvious distaste.
“I found I had just enough to cover a second class ticket on a train going south towards the Malaysian peninsula. It was a twelve hour journey to Phun Phin, in Surat Thani Province, and then a couple of hours in a minibus across to Patong, on the Andaman coast. Not a great alternative to a two hour flight, but I didn't have enough money for that. Besides, I felt sure that there would be people on the lookout for me at the airport.
“I prayed that Bukhari’s influence didn’t extend beyond Bangkok, and that I’d be able to disappear into anonymity on the island beach resort - at least for a while.”
Helen took up the tale at this point, as Kayla braved a tentative skirmish with the ham sandwich. “As soon as I realised you were missing, I went to see Jeanne. She said not to worry, and that you’d probably picked up a bloke for the night. I said I didn’t think so.”
“Strange she didn’t mention Bukhari’s murder,” I said. “She must have known about it.”
“I don’t see why.”
“Because it was all over the newspapers, and because she knew him. She was obviously concealing it from you for her own ends.”
“Don’t be absurd, Charles. Just because you don’t like her…”
“Don’t trust her, you mean.”
“I’m afraid he’s right, Helen. She did know, as I found out to my cost later. Bukhari’s men would have been on to you, too, if she hadn’t been protecting you. She was planning to play a much larger game now that he was out of the way, and using you as a pawn in it.”
“Now you’re both being ridiculous.”
Realising Helen felt we were ganging up against her, I turned to Kayla. “Tell us about the journey. Did you get to Phuket safely?”
“Yes. More or less.”
“What do you mean?”
“Most people would have taken the overnight sleeper, arriving at Phun Phin in the morning, but I didn’t dare hang around Bangkok station for half a day, so I caught a train leaving soon after midday – which meant I’d be getting out in the middle of the night. That didn’t worry me, though. I felt sure that, if I could look after myself in Bangkok at night, I’d be more than able to do so in a remote rural province.
“The 2nd-class sleepers have pairs of seats facing each other, which convert into two fold-down berths, one over the other. Curtains provide some privacy, but not much. The other people in my carriage included a group of young Australians - three blokes from Sydney with backpacks, a couple of girls, and a case of Singha beer.
“Since our carriage wasn’t air-conditioned, they were getting through the case at a fair rate, and becoming louder and coarser as the journey continued. After a while, one of the boys leaned over and offered me a beer. I shook my head, but he insisted, pressing the cold bottle against my arm.
“I tensed like a wildcat about to spring, then took the beer from him and prised the bottle cap off with my teeth, flashing him a provocative smile. I realised that travelling with them would be the perfect cover. Just another tourist, out for a good time.”
“It wasn’t until the next day that I discovered that I had killed him. It was all over the front page of the Bangkok Post. Does that answer your question?”
Helen looked stunned. I shifted uncomfortably, not knowing what to say.
Eventually, after a long pause, Helen said, “…and then what?”
Chapter 30
“…and then I panicked. There was no way that I could remain in Bangkok. I didn’t even dare to contact you, knowing how close you were to Jeanne. If you had known where I was, she’d have found a way to force the information from you.”
Helen looked sceptical. “But you could at least have let me know you were safe. I was worried witless about you. Why didn’t you leave a message for me in the apartment?”
“I would have, but Bukhari’s men were waiting for me. I went home, intending to pack a few things, but they were already in the street below. It was lucky that I spotted them in time to slip down a side alley. Realising what danger I was in, I headed straight for the railway station.”
“That explains why there was nothing to suggest you had left. Everything was in its usual place when I got back home that evening, and I only started to worry when I woke up the following morning, and found that you hadn’t slept in your bed.”
A look of concern crossed Helen's face as Kayla staggered to her feet without replying, and made her way unsteadily to the bathroom.
“Ease up on the drinks, Charles. It looks as though my big sister has had more than enough.”
Strange gurgling sounds from the bathroom suggested that was a distinct probability.
“Are you all right in there?” Helen called out. The only answer was a flushing toilet. Kayla emerged soon afterwards, somewhat dishevelled, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
“Here, let me get you a drink of water,” I said.
“Thanks. I’m sorry. I haven’t had anything to eat since this morning, and that orange juice concoction of yours went straight to my head.”
“Straight to your stomach, more like, poor girl.” Helen passed her a box of tissues, while I rustled up a ham sandwich, a hunk of cheese, and a few dry biscuits.
“That’s the best I can do at short notice, I’m afraid.” I put them on the coffee table in front of her. Kayla smiled weakly, and reached out for one of the dry biscuits.
“I was strapped for cash. All I had was my purse and the clothes I had on.” She brushed a few crumbs from the corner of her mouth, and took a sip of water before continuing. “I decided to go to Phuket. I knew there was a good chance of picking up a job in one of the nightclubs in Patong.” She glanced across in my direction. “It’s always crawling with tourists there - mainly Chinese and Russians, and a lot of ocker Australians looking for a good time.” The corners of her mouth turned down with obvious distaste.
“I found I had just enough to cover a second class ticket on a train going south towards the Malaysian peninsula. It was a twelve hour journey to Phun Phin, in Surat Thani Province, and then a couple of hours in a minibus across to Patong, on the Andaman coast. Not a great alternative to a two hour flight, but I didn't have enough money for that. Besides, I felt sure that there would be people on the lookout for me at the airport.
“I prayed that Bukhari’s influence didn’t extend beyond Bangkok, and that I’d be able to disappear into anonymity on the island beach resort - at least for a while.”
Helen took up the tale at this point, as Kayla braved a tentative skirmish with the ham sandwich. “As soon as I realised you were missing, I went to see Jeanne. She said not to worry, and that you’d probably picked up a bloke for the night. I said I didn’t think so.”
“Strange she didn’t mention Bukhari’s murder,” I said. “She must have known about it.”
“I don’t see why.”
“Because it was all over the newspapers, and because she knew him. She was obviously concealing it from you for her own ends.”
“Don’t be absurd, Charles. Just because you don’t like her…”
“Don’t trust her, you mean.”
“I’m afraid he’s right, Helen. She did know, as I found out to my cost later. Bukhari’s men would have been on to you, too, if she hadn’t been protecting you. She was planning to play a much larger game now that he was out of the way, and using you as a pawn in it.”
“Now you’re both being ridiculous.”
Realising Helen felt we were ganging up against her, I turned to Kayla. “Tell us about the journey. Did you get to Phuket safely?”
“Yes. More or less.”
“What do you mean?”
“Most people would have taken the overnight sleeper, arriving at Phun Phin in the morning, but I didn’t dare hang around Bangkok station for half a day, so I caught a train leaving soon after midday – which meant I’d be getting out in the middle of the night. That didn’t worry me, though. I felt sure that, if I could look after myself in Bangkok at night, I’d be more than able to do so in a remote rural province.
“The 2nd-class sleepers have pairs of seats facing each other, which convert into two fold-down berths, one over the other. Curtains provide some privacy, but not much. The other people in my carriage included a group of young Australians - three blokes from Sydney with backpacks, a couple of girls, and a case of Singha beer.
“Since our carriage wasn’t air-conditioned, they were getting through the case at a fair rate, and becoming louder and coarser as the journey continued. After a while, one of the boys leaned over and offered me a beer. I shook my head, but he insisted, pressing the cold bottle against my arm.
“I tensed like a wildcat about to spring, then took the beer from him and prised the bottle cap off with my teeth, flashing him a provocative smile. I realised that travelling with them would be the perfect cover. Just another tourist, out for a good time.”
 Recognized |
|
Glossary:
ocker: Australian vernacular for someone rough and uncultivated.
List of characters:
Charles Brandon: The narrator, a well-known travel writer.
Helen Culverson: A woman of some mystery, also a travel writer, who seems to have become Charles's girlfriend.
Kayla Culverson: Her older sister, who disappeared somewhere in Bangkok.
Madame Jeanne Durand: A French magazine editor, who was involved in a serious accident, and seems also to be involved with the Mafia in some way.
Mr Bukhari - a Pakistani businessman
Madame Madeleine Bisset - Helen's landlady in Paris
Henri Carron - a rag-and-bone man, owner of an heroic dog called Bonaparte.
Monsieur Bellini - a denizen of the French Underworld.
Dr. Laurent: A veterinary surgeon in Versailles.
Father Pierre Lacroix, vicar of the Versailles Notre Dame church.
Madame Lefauvre: An old woman living in Versailles - the town gossip.
Francoise Gaudin: An intellectually disabled woman living in Versailles.
Alain Gaudin: brother of Francoise, a gardener at Monet's house in Giverney
Estelle Gaudin [deceased]: mother of Francoise and Alain, a prostitute
Mademoiselle Suzanne Gaudin [deceased]: Alain's grandmother, to whom the mysterious letter of 1903 was addressed.
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. ocker: Australian vernacular for someone rough and uncultivated.
List of characters:
Charles Brandon: The narrator, a well-known travel writer.
Helen Culverson: A woman of some mystery, also a travel writer, who seems to have become Charles's girlfriend.
Kayla Culverson: Her older sister, who disappeared somewhere in Bangkok.
Madame Jeanne Durand: A French magazine editor, who was involved in a serious accident, and seems also to be involved with the Mafia in some way.
Mr Bukhari - a Pakistani businessman
Madame Madeleine Bisset - Helen's landlady in Paris
Henri Carron - a rag-and-bone man, owner of an heroic dog called Bonaparte.
Monsieur Bellini - a denizen of the French Underworld.
Dr. Laurent: A veterinary surgeon in Versailles.
Father Pierre Lacroix, vicar of the Versailles Notre Dame church.
Madame Lefauvre: An old woman living in Versailles - the town gossip.
Francoise Gaudin: An intellectually disabled woman living in Versailles.
Alain Gaudin: brother of Francoise, a gardener at Monet's house in Giverney
Estelle Gaudin [deceased]: mother of Francoise and Alain, a prostitute
Mademoiselle Suzanne Gaudin [deceased]: Alain's grandmother, to whom the mysterious letter of 1903 was addressed.
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