‘Up until yesterday, it was my choice, but that bed is just fantastic.’
‘As I said, you’re welcome to it for as long as you want. And before you refuse, I’m not just being kind, I’d actually appreciate the company. I’ve been alone here for nearly two months now.’
‘Why don’t you invite some of your mates from London to come over?’
‘That’s not an option. Right,’ he said, as a dish of sizzling king prawns was placed in the centre of the table. ‘Let’s tuck in.’
That dinner was one of the best I’d eaten for a long time – at least since Star had cooked me a roast lunch last November in London. I’d never learnt to cook myself because she was so great at it, and I’d almost forgotten what good food tasted like. Course after course made its way into my mouth – fragrant lemongrass soup, tender fried chicken wrapped in pandan leaves, and spicy fish cakes with nam jim sauce.
‘Oh my God, that was absolutely delicious. I like this restaurant, thanks so much for inviting me. I’ve got a food baby.’ I indicated my swollen stomach.
Ace grinned at my description. We hadn’t really chatted much over supper, probably because I’d been too busy stuffing my face. ‘So, has the food convinced you to stay?’ Ace took a sip of his water. ‘I mean, it’s not for long, is it? You said you’re leaving for Australia after the New Year.’
‘Yeah, I am.’ I finally gave in. ‘If you’re sure, it would be great.’
‘Good. Just one thing I’d ask: I know you’re friendly with the crowd on Railay Beach, but I’d really prefer it if you didn’t say you were staying here with me, or mention where the house is. I really value my privacy.’
His eyes told me everything his casual words hadn’t.
‘I won’t say a word, promise.’
‘Good. So, tell me about your painting. You must be really talented to have got a place in a London art college.’
‘Umm . . . I left a few weeks later, ’cos I realised I wasn’t. Or not in the way they wanted me to be anyway.’
‘You mean, they didn’t get you?’
‘You could say that.’ I rolled my eyes. ‘I couldn’t do anything right.’
‘So would you say you’re more “avant garde” than someone like Monet, for example?’
‘You could, but you’ve got to remember that Monet was avant garde in his day. It really wasn’t my art tutors’ fault, I just couldn’t learn what they wanted to teach me.’ I closed my mouth abruptly, wondering why I was telling him about all this. He was probably bored senseless. ‘What about you? What do you do?’
‘Oh, nothing as interesting. I’m just your average City bod. Dull stuff, you know?’
I didn’t, but I nodded as if I did. ‘So you’re taking a . . .’ – I searched for the word – ‘sabbatical?’
‘Yeah, something like that. Now,’ he said, stifling a yawn, ‘can I get you anything else?’
‘No thanks, I’m good.’
‘The staff will come and clear away but I need to try and sleep now. As you know, I’m up before dawn. And by the way, the security guards know you’re staying with me, and the key code for the gate from the beach side is 7777.’ He gave me a small smile. ‘Night, CeCe.’
‘Night.’
As he left, I saw the staff hovering, probably ready for their beds too and wanting to be finished for the day. I decided that, while I was under Ace’s protection, I’d chance a wander onto Phra Nang. Walking down the path, I pressed the red button on the pad at the side of the gate. It slid back and I was released onto the deserted beach.
‘Sawadee krap!
I jumped as I looked to my left and saw Po, the squat security guard who had manhandled me along the beach at six o’clock this morning. He stood up from his stool, placed discreetly amongst the foliage that flanked the gate, and saluted me with a false smile.
‘Sawadee ka,’ I said, doing a wai with my hands in the traditional Thai greeting.
The tinny noise of Thai pop music blared from a small radio next to his stool, and as I looked at his uneven, yellowing teeth, I saw him – literally – from the other side of the fence, and wondered how many children he had to feed, and how boring and lonely his job was. Except, I thought, as I walked through the foliage, part of me envied him having all this to himself. He had beauty and total peace every night. As I walked onto the beach, feeling a freedom that sadly only privilege could buy in this particular neck of the woods, I imagined how one day I would breathe in the world at its amazing best, then paint it onto canvas for everyone to see.
I made my way to the sea’s edge and dipped my toes in the perfect body-temperature water. I looked up at the sky, chock-full of stars tonight, and wished I had the vocabulary to put into words the things I thought. For I felt things that I couldn’t explain, except through the paintings I made or, recently, the installation I’d become obsessed with.
It hadn’t been right, of course – it had tried to say too much about too many things – but I’d loved working in my riverside studio. And with Star in the kitchen as she made us supper, I’d felt content.
‘Stop it, Cee!’ I told myself firmly. I wasn’t going to start looking back again. Star had made her move and I was out of her hair, leading my own life. Or at least, trying to.
Then I wondered if Star had ever thought of herself as a burden to me. I didn’t want to start criticising her because I loved her, but maybe she’d forgotten the way she’d needed me when she was small and didn’t like speaking. She’d also been bad at making decisions and saying what she felt, especially as we’d been trapped in the middle of a bunch of strong-willed sisters. I wasn’t trying to make her take the blame or anything, but there were always two sides to a story and maybe she’d forgotten mine.
Surprisingly, though, it seemed I’d found myself a new friend. I wondered what his story was, why he was really here; why he only went out at sunrise or after dark and wouldn’t invite any friends to stay, despite admitting he was lonely . . .
I walked back slowly across the sand towards the hidden palace in the trees. Even though Po the security guard made to tap in the numbers on the pad, I got there first and pressed ‘7777’ firmly onto the keys so he knew that I knew the code.
Having retrieved the key from the planter, I opened the door to my room to find someone had been there before me. The bed was made up with fresh sheets, and the clothes I had discarded earlier were folded neatly on a chair. The invisible cleaning fairy had also left a new set of fluffy towels, and after I’d washed the sand off my feet, I clambered into bed.
The problem was, I mused, that I’d always lived between two worlds. I could happily bunk down on the beach, but equally, I was comfortable in a room like this. And despite all my protests that I could survive with very little, tonight I didn’t know which option I preferred.
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