Marissa de Luna
Marissa is a passionate author who started writing in her late twenties. After spending her early years growing up in Goa, Marissa returned to England to complete her education.
With a keen passion for travelling, Marissa later took a career break and travelled around the globe for ten months. On returning home she spent time with her family in Goa, and it was this period in which Marissa, inspired by the Goan culture and lifestyle, decided to put pen to paper and started writing her first book.
Her previous books include Goa Traffic, The Bittersweet Vine, and Under the Coconut Tree.
Visit her website: www.marissadeluna.com
Copyright © 2016 Marissa de Luna
All rights reserved. 2nd Edition
Lost Button Publishing
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted by
any means, without the prior written permission in writing of the author.
The author’s moral rights have been asserted.
This is a work of fiction. All persons appearing in this
written work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
For Anna
Prologue
Barnet, North London
‘We’ve talked about this before.’
‘It’s just…’
‘It’ll help you.’ Elaine sat down on the red chair. She motioned for her to sit opposite. ‘Shall we do this?’
Celeste looked towards the door and back at Elaine.
‘I want to know why you did it.’
She caught her reflection in the glass. Why was she even here?
It’s unhealthy, Celeste. You have to let go. Her mother had said it and so had Alicia. But she couldn’t let go. It wasn’t that easy. Sometimes you had to pretend though. Pretend that everything was fine even though you were a mess underneath it all. And that last meeting with Rachel; it had been a mistake.
Something in Elaine’s hand caught her eye. It looked familiar.
‘You remember this picture?’ Elaine placed a photograph on the desk beside them.
‘Where did you get that? It’s mine.’
‘Okay, take it.’
She stared at the picture, before reaching out to it and gently touching it with the tips of her trembling fingers. The expression of the woman in the photograph was vacant, her grey eyes sunken and empty, her hair lifeless – any happiness had been sucked out of her.
‘Take it away.’ She could push as forcefully as he had. Perhaps not then, when she was… when she was raw with pain and grief, but now... now she was strong. One shove would do. Would that make it right?
‘When was the picture taken?’
She clutched the gold bumblebee pendant that hung from her neck. ‘About two years ago.’
‘That would be around the time you –’
Celeste cut Elaine off. ‘I wasn’t in a good place then.’
‘It’s odd that someone would take a picture of you when you were in that condition.’
‘Back then I couldn’t tell the difference between what was normal and what wasn’t.’
‘How does it make you feel when you see that picture?’
‘Angry. I should never have let things go that far. But I didn’t know a person could change so much. I didn’t realise what he was capable of.’
‘What things are you referring to?’
Could she trust Elaine? Her mind drifted. One push, one bullet, one cut. Is that all it would take? Would the pain disappear then? Would she be able to forget?
Elaine leaned back in her chair. ‘Can you explain to me how the woman in this picture feels?’
Celeste tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. Her hair was shoulder length and dark brown now, the colour of a chestnut. Back to her natural colour after years of cropping it and dying it black – the way he liked it. Her cheeks were filling out too. She no longer carried that gaunt expression that made her mother pile more potatoes onto her plate. The blusher she had applied went some way to make her look alive. Alive. She was lucky to be alive.
She could feel the tears pricking the back of her eyes. The lump in her throat made it difficult for her to breathe, but she had promised herself no more tears. Swallowing hard, she bit the inside of her cheek until the metallic taste of blood stopped her. Then, closing her eyes, she tried to steady her breathing.
‘Things were not always that bad.’ She looked at the woman sitting in front of her. Elaine was safe in her floaty skirt and unoffending beige T-shirt, but Celeste knew she had made bad judgements before. That’s why she was here, wasn’t she? Elaine could be a little direct at times, but she had a way of making her say things she wouldn’t normally. ‘Okay,’ she said eventually. Celeste looked at the clock on the wall. It was late. ‘You want to know why I did it. Fine. I’ll tell you my story.’
Part I
1
10th – 12th April 2007
Phuket, Thailand
‘Ow!’ Celeste yelped. She clutched her grazed ankle at the baggage carousel and looked up. A tall man wearing black and red board shorts and a white linen shirt smiled down at her apologetically as she crouched down, tending to her leg.
‘My fault, sorry.’ The man lifted up her heavy backpack as if it were a sack of feathers. He smiled an infectious smile, making her blush.
She noticed his backpack propped against the scuffed airport wall. A shark’s tooth hung from a cord around his tanned neck. ‘Traveller?’
He nodded.
She hobbled towards the wall and slumped against it. It was hot. Other travellers had said April was a bad time to visit Thailand, but she had tired of New Zealand. She wanted to experience a different culture and she knew Thailand was the best place for that. She looked over the man in front of her. There was something irresistible about his smile, which made her wonder how many girls he had bedded across the globe in shared hostel rooms.
‘I’m Alex,’ he said, dropping her bag to the floor and holding out his hand. He looked at her, really looked at her. Men often gave her a second glance, did a double take at a party commenting on her unique grey eyes and petite frame, but this was different. It was like he saw something he wanted in her. She found herself irrationally worrying about her appearance: did she have sleep in her eyes, had she stained her top from the burrito she had eaten mid-flight? Her cheeks burned as Alex studied her eyes.
Celeste took his hand and introduced herself.
‘Pretty name.’
‘Heavenly.’
He broke his gaze and blinked. ‘I grabbed my bag off the carousel in haste and swiped your leg in the process. I didn’t mean it and I apologised, there’s no need for sarcasm.’ Alex lifted his backpack onto his shoulders and Celeste watched his muscles flex under his shirt. He turned and walked towards the exit leaving behind the faint scent of sandalwood as he headed towards a group of taxi drivers shouting for his attention.
Celeste picked her bag up and put it on a chair nearby; she squatted with her back towards it so that the shoulder straps were at the same height as her neck. Gently, she lowered the bag on to her back. It had taken her three months of travel to figure out the perfect way of picking up fifty-five litres of possessions. Now she had it down to a tee.
*
Within two days she had grown tired of Phuket with its bright lights and trashy tourists. It wasn’t the Thailand she had in mind. Thumbing through her guidebook, she stopped at Koh Phi Phi. Almost every traveller she had met in the last forty-eight hours had been reading The Beach. The book seemed to be the travellers’ bible, and dog-eared copies littered hostel common rooms. Hungry backpackers were keen to experience the same utopian lifestyle that Leonardo Di Caprio had stu
mbled upon in that movie set on the island. She considered it and was certain that it would be overrun by tourists, but it would be a stepping stone to the other islands. She would take a boat out there for a day or two and then move on to the lesser known Koh Lanta or Koh Tao.
The tuk-tuk pulled up alongside the ferry terminal near Phuket’s marina where backpackers in flip flops walked along the rickety deck towards a white and blue boat. Celeste stepped down and paid the tuk-tuk driver ten baht. She was sure she had been ripped off, but she was too tired to argue. A strong stench of rotting fish and diesel made her retch. She steadied herself, trying to ignore the smell and then made her way, in the fake Havaianas, which she had picked up in the Phuket market, towards the front of the boat. She purchased her ticket and found a seat. A small barefoot boy, in a pair of shorts, sat precariously on the upper deck throwing rice into the water. Hundreds of silver fish, glimmering in the midday sun, swam up to eat his offerings. She looked out in amazement, momentarily distracted from her surroundings. It was unbearably hot in the cabin, and, with heavy luggage being thrown into the bowels of the ferry, it had started to rock. She felt a wave of nausea rising up within her.
‘Ginger?’ she heard a familiar voice and looked up.
It was Alex.
‘No thanks,’ she said, trying to think about not being sick in front of him. She wasn’t sure if her eyes were playing games with her, but he looked more attractive now than he had done at the airport. He had a layer of stubble around his jaw and wore loose khaki linen trousers and a white T-shirt. He smelled of soap and sandalwood.
‘It’ll take that nauseated feeling away. Make you feel much better.’ Alex thrust the bag of ginger lozenges at her. She took one and placed it in her mouth, sucking on it as hard as she could. After a few minutes the queasy feeling began to subside.
‘So you’re following me then?’ He flashed her a smile, making her cheeks go pink.
‘You sat down next to me,’ she retorted. There was something arrogant in his manner that both attracted and repelled her. ‘I need some air,’ she said, reaching up to the window. Alex immediately sprang to his feet and tried to help her with the handle; his hand touched hers and an electric spark ran through her. Her heart rate quickened and she turned to him with the sudden urge to feel his lips on hers. His face was only a few centimetres away as he stood behind her. She noticed his brilliant blue eyes and his smooth lips. He grinned, and after pushing the window open, sat back down.
She stood up, filled her lungs with sea air then sat down again, avoiding his eyes. Could he sense that she wanted to kiss him? When she finally looked up, he winked at her, then pulled out his iPod and shoved the earpieces in.
How odd and rude of him to come and talk to her and then, like at the airport, just ignore her and do his own thing. She retrieved her bright pink iPod Nano from her bag, which had been a parting gift from work. Crosby in the Marketing team had even pre-loaded some music for her, which was a bonus, as she would never have got around to doing it herself. Technology was not her forte. Her mother always said she was too artistic for that.
As they pulled out of the Marina, she noticed the yachts that sparkled in the sun amidst the cool blue ocean. She watched carefully as their ferry passed a white yacht called Principessa. What would it be like to travel on one of those? To be able to have your crew bring you a club soda with ice or a cold flute of Bollinger on a hot day such as this. As a bead of sweat trickled down her back, she saw a woman in a large sun hat and oversized sun glasses appear on the back of the Principessa carrying a glass of something. She imagined it to be an ice-cold gin and tonic – something she could have done with right now. The woman wore an orange and black kaftan; a gold pendant hung low near her belly button and glimmered in the sunlight. She was talking animatedly on a mobile phone. A sliver of envy ran through Celeste. What she would give to travel to Koh Phi Phi on her own yacht rather than a ferry full of travellers.
‘I’m going to own one of those some day,’ Alex said, as if reading her mind. She noticed he too was looking at the Principessa. He pulled his earphones out and motioned for her to do the same. Celeste turned away and pretended she hadn’t heard him, but he was persistent. Eventually he pulled her earphones out for her. ‘If you owned a boat like that what would you call it?’
She often dreamed of all the things she would buy if and when she won the lottery, but she had never before thought of what she would call her yacht.
‘Heavenly,’ he suggested. ‘That’s what your name means, doesn’t it?’
Celeste smiled. ‘So you got it, eventually.’
‘If I had a yacht I’d call it after the lady in my life,’ Alex said.
‘And what if she left you for someone better-off and better looking?’
‘Ha! That would never happen.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘So what do you do when you’re not injuring people or being arrogant?’
‘I’m a stripper’
He had her attention now. She pursed her lips unsure of what to say. ‘So people pay to see that?’ she said, pointing to his chest. She gave a mock look of surprise to hide the fact that she too was keen to see what was underneath his t-shirt.
‘Ouch! I’m kidding. I work in Fleet Street back home. Finance. I wear a pinstripe but I never take it off for money. Actually, I’ve never been offered, but then I wouldn’t kiss and tell even if I had.’
Celeste rolled her eyes again.
‘So what do you do then when you’re not hurting people with your wit?’
‘I was a designer for Cross boutiques. Do you know them?’
Do I know them? ‘Course I do. Spent most of my childhood there. Being dragged into one of those shops by my mother when she needed whatever you women need. I don’t hold Cross in high regard. As a child those shops caused me many hours of suffering.’
She smiled. Most people she had met travelling had either not heard of Cross or thought she was posh for working for such a store. Finally, someone knew about its status in the fashion world. She felt elevated. ‘Your mother must have good taste.’
‘She did, but then I’m biased.’
‘Did?’
‘I lost her some time ago.’
‘I’m sorry.’
Alex looked away from her. She wanted to reach out and comfort him, but held back reminding herself that she had only just met him.
He cleared his throat, ‘Sounds like you’re missing work. Like you want to pack in travelling and head back to the bright lights of London.’
Celeste tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She missed her best friends – Bonnie and Alicia. She missed the late night phone calls and the movie marathons huddled in their pyjamas on Alicia’s sofa. She missed Cross too – the flamboyant fuchsia carpet, the gold throne in the corner of her design studio, and the mannequins draped in organzas and silks, all securely fastened with the Cross signature gold bumblebee pins. And Celeste’s boss, Maryanne, had become like a second mother to her. She had welcomed her into Cross when no one else would take a chance on a graduate designer.
Before she had left, Maryanne had said to her, in her Texan drawl, ‘Go do what you have to do, darlin’.’ She had taken her jaw in her hand, her vibrant red nails digging into her soft cheeks. ‘I remember the first time you walked in here. Spillin’ tea all over my beautiful designs. I said to myself, “What the hell have I hired?” But you stayed late that day, kid, and re-sketched from memory what you’d seen. I knew then that you had something. When you come back, call me. We may… no we will have something for you.’
‘I guess I do miss my life back home. But I’m not done yet,’ she said, her eyes lighting up. ‘There’s so much to see and do here. I’ve only just started in Asia. Are you going back to your old job?’
‘I’ll have to muscle my way back in, but I’m good at what I do.’
She smiled. Why was she always attracted to arrogant, alpha males?
‘So where are you heading next?’ She heard Alex say.
‘I’ll stay out here for as long as I can, but I don’t have much cash left.’
‘Maybe we could travel on together.’
She looked at Alex out of the corner of her eye. ‘Maybe.’
2
13th – 14th April 2007
Koh Phi Phi, Thailand
Celeste woke up to the noisy whirring of the fan in the far left corner of her room. It was stiflingly hot. Sweat trickled down from beneath her hairline towards her nose and cheeks. She wiped it away with the back of her hand.
Outside, a child was playing with something that sounded like a toy drum. She could hear chickens clucking. She glanced over to the lilac leather travel alarm clock that Alicia had given her for her last birthday. It was from an expensive store on Bond Street and she had deliberated whether to bring it with her. ‘Take nothing of value,’ a friend had said. ‘The last thing you want to do is have it nicked.’ The lilac reminded her of the lavender that hung in Alicia’s bathroom. She wished for a bit of luxury now.
A gecko caught her eye as it scurried out from behind the curtain towards the bathroom. Before she had time to follow it there was a sharp rap on the door. Celeste wrapped the bed sheet around her and rose to her feet, stepping over a line of black ants.
‘Wake up, wake up,’ said a voice from behind the door, now half ajar.
She looked at the open door, her mouth gaping open. ‘What the hell? You can’t just come into my room.’
A woman appeared from behind the door.
She took in the woman’s shabby appearance and dishevelled hair. She wore a pale blue dress, which blended perfectly with the patchily decorated walls and worn door of the room.
‘Gud, gud you alone. That man is nat here with you-la. Engleesh girls always bring back men with them.’
Celeste couldn’t place her accent. It didn’t sound Thai. ‘What man?’
‘Tall one, blue eyes. Blue eyes means gud times,’ the woman said winking at Celeste.
Poison in the Water Page 1