everything good about home.
Robert wasn’t really a part of the island life. He was just there in the bungalow next to mine and it seemed perfectly enjoyable to exchange a few words in the mornings or afternoons. One evening we went out together for dinner and it was only mildly interesting.
Robert knew I was in a bad way, and knew I wanted to go home. I had told him my story and, in return, he told me he was a jewellery dealer, importing and exporting precious stones from Thailand to various destinations; this was how he funded his trips and long stays in Asia.When my dengue fever eased we said our goodbyes and I retreated once more to Bangkok.
My family were sitting around eating mince pies, drinking sherry and watching the Queen’s speech when I called. How I wanted to be there with them.We chatted, again, briefly.
‘Happy Christmas, Mum and Dad,’ I said. ‘Everything is fine. I love you all. ’Bye.’
The writing was on the wall. In Bangkok I went to a hospital and they confirmed that yes, it was dengue but no, they could not really treat it. It would pass. It did and in its place I developed stomach pains. I prayed my life would improve.
In January 1993 it improved slightly and I travelled to Pataya,
with a Danish girl, to make a film for a Thai television production company. It was a promotional film about the virtues of Thailand to be shown all over Europe the following autumn. The format was simple: it was made into a sort of game show and we played golf, tennis and on water slides; we donned gloves and pretended to be Thai boxers and raced go-carts. I still don’t know whether the film was ever actually screened.
One afternoon around the middle of January, I bumped into Robert. He was still wearing his green cord trousers and had managed to avoid a suntan. Hindsight, of course, is an exact science, but now, looking back, I doubt our meeting was a coinci- dence. Is it possible to create an apparent coincidence?Yes, I think it is.
‘Have you managed to sort everything out yet?’ he enquired, with flimsy concern.‘How are you feeling? Have you managed to get a ticket home yet?’
‘No, I haven’t sorted things out yet.’
Bangkok was pleasant and warm.An ancient old woman passed by, puffing impatiently. Robert adopted a posture of concentra- tion.
‘I have an idea how you can raise the money for your ticket home.Would you like to listen to it?’
I never paused.‘Yes,’ I said.‘I would.’
five
Nothing Like the Sun
Drug smuggling carries a maximum penalty of death and will almost certainly get you from five to 20 years in a Thai prison. Even more alarming, drug enforcement squads are said to receive 25 per cent of the market value of seized drugs, so are liable to exaggerate the amounts involved.
Thailand, The Rough Guide
No one ever knows it at the time but there are always signs or incidents in your life that try to point out the rocky path. Most of the time we fail to heed them. When I was 17 I went to Amsterdam with a friend. On my way home, at the customs checkpoint at the ferry dock, it suddenly dawned on me that I still had a small piece of hash in my pocket that I had been using during my trip. In a panic I began sweating. I could feel my arter- ies hardening.The customs men would know for sure that I was carrying drugs. Look at my face.The expression would almost cer- tainly give me away.
Tap, tap, and tap.A hand touched me on the shoulder. I ignored it. Don’t turn round , I said to myself, he doesn’t want you. It’s a mistake. I was terrified. The tap came again. There was nothing for it. I swallowed hard and turned around.A young American guy who I had never seen before was standing beside me
‘Whatever you’ve got on you give it to me,’ he said.
I looked at him, spitting defiance, scared out of my mind.
‘What?’
He repeated himself. I told him I didn’t have anything.
‘Listen, I can see you’ve got something, and if I can see it they
can see it so