Helen grabbed the paddle back from Poppy, who was happy to oblige.
“Losers!” she shouted back and quickly gained ground on him.
They pulled up to the wooden gangway. Pete and Lorraine had won by a hair’s breadth – according to Poppy and Helen, that is. People from the kayak-hire company and Huy hurried over to help them disembark onto a slippery deck. The water-boat saleswomen weren’t far behind.
“Lady, you buy something?” a little Vietnamese woman shouted at them, her boat overloaded with bottles of water, Coca-Cola, fruit and chocolate. Three identical boats joined in chorus, all vying for a few tourists’ dollars. They accepted Dollar, Dong, Sterling and Euro, sorry, no American Express.
“How much is your Buddha beer?” Pete asked, pointing to a golden-coloured can of the Vietnamese beer.
“Two dollar.” The woman quickly held up a can.
“You want anything, girls? Bound to be cheaper here than on the boat,” he asked his wife, Helen and Poppy.
“We’re grand thanks, Pete – anyway, I thought we were supposed to be buying the beer?” said Poppy.
“No worries, I was just kidding. It’s your turn on the boat though!”
Lorraine lightly punched him on the arm. “Be nice, Pete! Ignore him, girls, he’s only pulling your leg. He’s delighted the Irish are on board tonight.”
“Damn right, it’s bound to be a right good party! Actually, throw us up six tinnies, love,” he said, holding up six fingers before reaching for his wallet. With the sight of the trade, more floating shops paddled in their direction in the hope of getting some share of the bread.
“How do they all make a living out here?” Poppy said to Helen.
“With difficulty, I’d say,” Helen replied distractedly. “We don’t realise how lucky we are.” She was looking back across the bay.
The group gathered and Huy did a head-count.
“Good, good, all here. Now we go by small motor-boat to your Tropical Sails Junk, The Phoenix.” Huy cupped his hand in a sweeping motion, as though he was seeing the name in lights.
“That’s apt, a bird, reborn from the flames. Maybe it’s a sign of new beginnings,” Poppy smiled. She had noticed Helen was very quiet.
The motor idled as passengers clambered on. Then, with a pull from the driver, it spluttered dark smoke and coughed its way to life.
The noise of the engine drowned conversation. Helen let the wind blow through her hair as they headed, at speed, away from the quay and out into Halong Bay.
She couldn’t help but look back and, sure enough, she spotted him.
Water-Boy or Water-Man, as she now realised, was standing on the pier – which she had left only minutes ago. What was it about this guy that she could pick him out, his gait, his presence? It was almost as though she could sense him. The back of her neck prickled with goose bumps.
Damn, she thought. Talk about missing the boat!
“Who’s for beer?” Lorraine shouted as she popped open a can.
“Yes, please!” said Poppy, eager as an under-age schoolgirl. “Isn’t it funny – a laughing Buddha on the can!” She mimed as she pointed to the can, as it was hard to hear over the engine. She took a long gulp of the warm, frothy liquid. “I’m thinking the Buddha guarantees hang-over free beer!”
“Wishful thinking!” another passenger joined in.
The dark-haired man, who had joined them from the Four Seasons, smiled and laughed. He was trying to fit in – he pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose and stole a glance at Helen. Her fair hair was blowing back from her face, revealing a long graceful neck. She had a dreamy look on her face.
Twilight was settling and lights from the junks began to twinkle around the bay like fairy lights on a Christmas tree. Helen looked up high into the sky – the stars were turning on now too, winking back at her. A gust of wind caused her to shudder – she pulled her denim jacket tightly around her torso. As they reached their junk, home for the night, she looked around her – they were an eclectic group of people. And they were in for a good night.
Chapter 44
05:50 a.m. Helen cautiously opened a bleary eye. Her other eye was buried deep into the pillow, as she had fallen asleep face down last night – or was it that she had collapsed face down? Her mouth, dry as the Sahara, was open, the lower lip stuck to the white cotton pillowcase. She tried to swallow but lack of saliva made it difficult. That could mean only one thing – drool. And drooling meant a black mamba of a hangover.
Before moving her head too much, she tried to assess the situation. Jerky motions now could result in a shot of searing pain to her oxygen-deprived brain. Poppy was softly snoring in the next bed, her arms outstretched like Jesus Christ on the crucifix. Helen willed herself back to sleep as, despite her cotton-wool head, she could remember that they had only stumbled down to their cabin a mere four hours previously.
“Water, I need water,” she muttered like a castaway shipwrecked on a desert island. She decided she’d have to attempt moving. To her pleasant surprise, a thumping headache failed to appear.
Score, she thought. She threw back the duvet to find she had only half undressed last night. Her shoes and jeans lay strewn on the floor. As she stood, she noticed the boat had started to sway.
“I hope that’s the boat and not me,” she said, trying to remain vertical as she pulled on her jeans. Poppy’s reply was a continuing, even snort.
Grabbing up her shoes and scooping up her packet of paracetamol, she tip-toed to the cabin door, which brought a whole new challenge: sunlight.
“Bugger!” Helen winced as she stubbed her toe on the lip of the doorframe.
“You buy something?” A voice and the sound of oars swishing through water came from the side of the boat.
“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Helen declared as she looked overboard to see if there really was a floating shop alongside them at the break of dawn.
Thankfully there was.
“There is a God! Water, please – a big bottle. And have you any Mars bars?” Helen called down to the Vietnamese saleswoman.
The woman handed the goods up to Helen. “Something else for you, lady? Buddha beer maybe?” she asked, head cocked innocently.
Helen wasn’t ready to start the hair of the dog cure, because then she’d seriously have to question her drinking habits.
“No, that’s it, thanks, how much?”
“Three dollar,” the woman replied, happy to have a handsome sale so early in the day.
Helen took her supplies and headed up the stairs towards the main dining room. There were bodies everywhere – the crew slept in sleeping-bags in the dining-room-turned–staff-quarters. She continued on up to the top tier of the junk and lay back on a sun-lounger. She unscrewed the water-bottle cap, downed two paracetamol for the hangover she knew was coming, and then took a bite out of her Mars bar.
An early-morning mist enveloped the bay, giving the karsts a mystical vibration.
What a good place to have a hangover, she thought happily. She closed her eyes and listened as the sounds of solitude lulled her into a gentle slumber.
“Helen – are you up there?” Poppy shouted up the stairs, unwilling or unable to climb them.
The boat had come to life. Sounds of pots and pans clattering from the galley indicated the day had officially started.
Helen roused. “Eh, yep,” she shouted down. “I’ve got water if you need some. I’ve eaten the chocolate though – sorry!” She was not a bit sorry at all.
Poppy’s bed-head came into view as she climbed up.
“And the dead arose and appeared to many!” Helen laughed when she saw her friend.
“Like you can talk – have you looked in the mirror this morning?” Poppy retorted, grabbing the bottle of water.
Helen handed her the packet of pain-relievers. “Good night though, hey?” she chuckled.
“It was a laugh – I just wish we’d gone to bed a bit earlier.” Poppy crunched her head from side to si
de. It was still attached, thank goodness.
“What the hell, we’re on holiday. Anyway, this Cat Ba Island we’re heading to today sounds quiet enough – we can sleep tonight.” She said it as if she meant it.
“Sleep now sounds like a better idea,” said Poppy as she settled herself on a sun-lounger. The aroma of baking drifted from the kitchen below. “Breakfast smells good though.”
“How can you even think of eating? Coffee would be good, mind.”
“Come on, let’s go down before the others scoff the lot.”
Helen groaned but headed down the wooden steps with Poppy.
“Good morning, ladies! How are you this morning?” Huy greeted them with his usual toothy grin and child-like enthusiasm.
“Too much karaoke last night, Huy – you know yourself,” Helen said, touching her throat, blaming singing into the Tannoy until the wee hours for her delicate state of being.
Huy laughed as if it was the funniest thing he’d ever heard. He was inclined to do that – a lot.
“Yes, yes, I remember – you very good singer – Freddie Mercury!” he said, slapping his thigh.
Helen had forgotten about that bit. It reminded her of Fred, Hong Kong and of course, Eden, which she had managed to push to the back of her mind for the night.
Once Huy composed himself, he continued, “So it’s just three of you go on the Cat Ba Island tour. We leave in few minutes, okay? There will be breakfast for you on the other boat.”
“G’day, girls,” Pete said, lifting his hat to them as he entered the room.
“’Struth, did we really drink that much!” Lorraine declared, checking through their bar bill as she walked in behind him. “Hiya, girls!” she beamed, but then her expression changed to a questioning frown. “Are you definitely leaving us then?”
“I’m afraid so – we’re off to a quiet island to look at flora and fauna,” Poppy said flatly.
“Is it just the two of you going? Why don’t you stay here, with us?” Pete looked around the dining room – no one else appeared to be packing up.
Helen and Poppy shrugged.
“I think that English bloke mentioned he’s leaving today too. You know, the quiet guy, dark hair, said he was a geography teacher or something.” Lorraine counted out her cash.
Helen felt her hangover kicking in.
A quick bird bath and clothes haphazardly shoved into their bags, and Helen and Poppy were back up on deck to say their goodbyes.
Lorraine gave each of the girls a warm hug. “We’ll miss you guys tonight – won’t be the same without Team Ireland.”
Having exchanged email addresses with their drinking buddies, Helen and Poppy got into the feeder boat where Mr Four Seasons, with the multidirectional suitcase, already waited. The group waved farewell to them from the junk’s deck. The captain and crew stood on the upper deck and continued to wave until their boat was out of sight.
Helen, Poppy, Keith and Huy headed across the bay.
“Do you know much about the island, Keith?” Poppy enquired of their only other tour mate.
“Indeed I do, Poppy – I’ve done quite a lot of research. We’re in for a treat. There’s a proliferation of wildlife specific to the region that I, for one, will study in depth. And then there is Thien Long Cave – I’m very excited about that. We’ll see the roots of a hundred-year-old Si tree – as long as you don’t mind bats, of course.” He paused to remove his glasses, which had steamed up from the Halong Bay mist.
Or was it from excitement, Poppy wondered.
“Looks like we’ve arrived at our new boat.” Poppy fixed her hair into a pony-tail. She noticed the crew waiting to greet them starboard on a junk, similar to the one they’d just left.
“We go on here, have breakfasts, then we go on to Cat Ba,” Huy briefly informed them before calling out to the crew in his native tongue.
The rope was thrown and once more they clambered off one boat and on to another.
“Oh dear, this vessel appears to be rather full of people.” Keith pushed his case in front of him as they entered the dining room. “I was under the impression it would just be the three of us.” He zipped up his windcheater jacket to his neck, despite the fact they were indoors.
The room quietened and conversation lulled as everyone looked up to see who was coming on board.
“Christ, I feel like a goldfish in a bowl,” Helen said under her breath, as Huy walked them through the room to a reserved table.
“Please sit, you have breakfast here, then we take a smaller boat to Cat Ba.”
Not another bloody boat!
“Coffee?” Huy asked.
“Definitely – no more boats without caffeine,” Helen grumbled.
Huy laughed. “You’re funny lady,” he said before disappearing.
The interest in their boarding was short-lived and the room had returned to its chatter.
“It sounded like a fun evening last night,” Keith said.
“Lord, Keith, I’m sorry, were we loud? I hope Gloria Gaynor here didn’t keep you awake, singing ‘I Will Survive’,” Helen grinned.
Poppy kicked her under the table. “Hey, you’d an unfair advantage. You’ve done Asian karaoke lots of times. Why didn’t you join us, Keith?”
“I’m not much of a singer, I’m afraid,” Keith replied, pushing both hands, palm to palm, tightly between his thighs.
Breakfast arrived. Helen popped a bread roll into her mouth, holding it between her teeth as she gathered her hair off her face to tie it back as Poppy had already done with hers. Helen took the opportunity to survey the room. It was a carbon copy of the boat they’d just left – it was adorned with lots of brass, chandeliers and a selection of karaoke casualties. They all faded into the background, though, when her eyes fell on one blond-haired man.
And he was looking straight at her.
What were the chances?
Higher than it appeared, it would seem.
Then he was smiling again.
At her.
That beaming smile that had caught her attention across a crowded Halong Bay.
Of all the boats, in all the world, and you just happened to walk into mine.
Although, technically, she had got on his boat.
Typical, I look like the Wild Woman of the West after a day ploughing the fields and downing ten bottles of stout, she thought. She took the bread-roll out of her mouth. Poppy didn’t appear to notice and Keith was still giving them a National Geographic type lesson.
Water-Boy was sitting with a group of The Beautiful People. A pretty girl was flicking her hair at him as she spoke. She whispered something in his ear. He leaned closer to hear her.
Ah well, the fantasy was nice while it lasted!
He glanced over again and she smiled at him as she would smile at a pleasant shop assistant.
“Isn’t that the guy from yesterday?” Poppy whispered as Huy gathered together the Cat Ba Island tour group.
“Yep, him and his entourage of nubile bunnies, by the looks of it,” Helen sniffed. She felt old and envious as she listened to the happy chatter about last night’s drunken escapades from their six new companions.
“Thank goodness it’s not the entire boat of people on our expedition,” Keith said, sticking close to Helen and Poppy.
Helen went to the bathroom, which unfortunately had a mirror. She made a feeble attempt to apply some make-up but gave up. She would fit in very well with the Cat Ba Island wildlife with her current look.
“Where were you? I’ll never remember all the names,” Poppy said when Helen returned. Huy had just completed another round of introductions.
“Don’t worry about it. They’re as hung-over as we are, except they’re about twenty years younger so it hasn’t hit them in the same way. Blame the onset of Alzheimer’s, if anyone gets insulted.” Helen looked around, fairly sure their fellow passengers wouldn’t care if they remembered their names or not.
Another boat. Another attempt at looking refined, when a
t any moment, embarking and disembarking, you could slip and go arse-over-elbow.
“The air is clearing my head.” Poppy closed her eyes as she lifted her face to the sky. A hazy sun was trying to peek through a gauze of cloud.
Helen listened to the lapping of the water against the boat as they sailed towards the island. A peaked cap and sunglasses meant she could subtly observe The Beautiful People, without appearing stalker-like – but her eyes kept drifting back to just one person.
Chapter 45
“You’ve got to check out the restrooms, dudes,” the All-American surfer declared, as he sat back down at the lunch table.
“They can’t be as bad as the ones when we docked, can they?” Poppy asked him. She had patiently held off peeing, after exiting from the last bathroom-stop gagging.
Helen stood up. “I’m going anyway. Thank God for alcohol dehydration. You’re right – the last pit-stop smelt like a cross between a down-town New Delhi cesspit on a hot day and a skunk with an upset tummy.”
There was silence around the table, no one sure how to react to Helen’s toilet humour.
“I’ll go with you, it can’t be so bad here,” Poppy said as she checked her bag for extra supplies of tissue. “It’s a restaurant for goodness sake. The food was good and the plates were clean, sort of.”
“God bless your optimism, Poppy. We’re in a stilt-house, on the side of a river, in the middle of nowhere, on an island that no one I know has ever heard of,” Helen reminded her. “I feel like I’m on the set of Lost – any moment now the Black Smoke will come to claim us.” She laughed, having got over the fact that Water-Boy was unavailable. It had left her free to spend the morning in the caves, which she actually really enjoyed. Even Keith had been an interesting guide.
“Once more, I’ve no idea what you’re on about but you really ought to watch less TV, Helen,” Poppy said, stuffing tissues in her pocket.
The girls started to walk along a dusty path. They followed the makeshift, hand-written sign, cut in the shape of an arrow: “TO LET”.
The Lingerie Designer Page 25