Coconuts and Wonderbras

by Lynda Renham

  ‘Toby no,’ I scream.

  Alex looks to me and as he does so Toby charges at him with the bat. Issy screams while I am struck dumb. The bat is lifted high in the air and comes crashing down towards Alex’s shoulder. I squeeze my eyes shut. The cracking sound I am expecting to hear doesn’t happen. I snap my eyes open in time to see Alex sidestep Toby and yank the bat out of his hands.

  ‘I should have known you would be a dirty fighter,’ he growls. ‘If dirty is what you want then that’s fine by me.’

  My stomach turns over when I realise Alex has no intention of being gentle any more. Issy and I watch horrified as he yanks Toby’s arm painfully behind his back. Toby winces and yelps loudly as Alex throws him to the ground. I try to think of some way to stop the fight. Issy gasps as Toby’s foot connects with Alex’s groin again sending him moaning to the ground. I so wish Toby would stop doing that. I don’t even understand what they are fighting about. It can’t be over me. Men simply don’t fight over me. It just doesn’t happen.

  Alex’s face is like thunder.

  ‘Play fair, damn you,’ he grunts and throws a punch which sends Toby crashing against the veranda railing. Blood trickles slowly down Toby’s cheek and I stare at him horrified. Alex charges at him and throws another punch to his face. I can’t bear it and before I know what I’m doing I have thrown myself between them.

  ‘Libs, what are you doing?’ Issy shouts.

  I push my hand onto Alex’s chest.

  ‘That’s enough. I can’t stand here and let you do this. You are going to kill him.’

  Toby moans behind me.

  ‘I hadn’t realised you cared that much for him,’ he says angrily.

  ‘I…’

  ‘Or that you thought so badly of me. Do you really consider me a man with no control?’

  ‘No, I…’

  ‘Libby,’ moans Toby. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

  ‘Yes, why don’t you and your trashy boyfriend get out of here?’ says Alex, nastily.

  I am so stunned, I cannot even reply. Issy looks miserably at me and then lays a hand on Alex’s arm. He nods at her before storming off.

  ‘I’ll fetch your things,’ she says softly.

  How could he be so horrible to me? I was just trying to stop things getting out of control and all I’ve done is offend him. I sniff noisily and realise I am crying. Why do I always get everything wrong? Charlie helps Toby up.

  ‘I’ll have him fucking court-martialled. He’ll be sorry. Let’s get out of here Libs,’ snarls Toby.

  Issy hands me the few things she had retrieved and I reluctantly follow Toby to the car. I look back to see if Alex is by the window but there is no sign of him. I feel wretched and clasp Issy’s hand. Why didn’t I just leave things? I should have trusted Alex. I feel sure he won’t give me a second chance. Someone please kill me.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  I am finding it impossible to concentrate on anything. It has been well over twenty-four hours since I left the safe house and I have hardly seen Toby. Penelope has a bad case of food poisoning, which Toby seems to have caught. He blames it on the ‘merciless battering’ that Alex gave him. I really couldn’t care if he has dysentery. I have been reading Alex’s book and feel stupidly embarrassed after discovering he has a black belt in martial arts. Toby should think himself lucky that Alex didn’t slaughter him and squash him like a fly. What was I thinking of, breaking up the fight? It is not the first time he has improvised with underwear either. When his plane was shot down in Afghanistan he had used his co-pilots braces as a tourniquet. No wonder my father likes him

  I am finding it very hard to feel anything for Toby at the moment. I have not heard a thing from Alex and don’t expect to. I have no clear idea where the safe house is so I can’t return to apologise. Not that I would mind you. I think he overreacted. Jamie thinks he will turn up for the TV interview. He then expects us all to fly home. Meanwhile, my mother is driving me mad. Why everyone and his dog had to come to Cambodia I will never know. The only good thing to come out of leaving the safe house is that I now have all my clothes again. In the space of three hours Issy and I have been dragged through every market known to man, forced to purchase bamboo sticks full of sticky rice and have each consumed a chocolate crepe from a street trader. At one point I thought we would never get out alive when one market stall owner pleaded with us to buy something and clung onto mother’s arm so tightly that I thought the only way to escape would be to cut it off. Thankfully it didn’t come to that. If that wasn’t enough, we also did a tour of the local pagoda. Finally, with my feet aching, she agrees to a milkshake in the Blue Pumpkin café. We find a table outside and I sit down gratefully.

  ‘I must text your father from the Blueberry,’ she says excitedly, pulling out her new phone.

  ‘Blackberry,’ I correct.

  I fan myself with the menu and smile at a tuk-tuk driver who winks at me. Issy flexes her feet and groans while trying to catch the eye of a passing waitress. I push two Ibuprofen out of a small foil pack and swallow them dry. I shudder at the bitter taste. I am missing Alex so much that it hurts. Issy’s phone bleeps with a text and I check mine to see if there is anything from Alex, but there is nothing.

  ‘Oh,’ exclaims Issy as she pushes her feet back into her sandals.

  ‘What’s the matter, dear?’ says mother, in that absent-minded way I know so well. She is concentrating hard on tapping in her text message.

  ‘Come on, we have to go,’ instructs Issy, grabbing me by the arm.

  ‘But I haven’t had a drink yet,’ I protest, fanning myself madly with the menu.

  ‘We have to go,’ she says, waving over a tuk-tuk.

  ‘But I’m not ready to go yet. Issy what is the matter with you?’

  She sighs and falls back into her chair.

  ‘Jonathan texted me and said I have to get you back. It’s all over the news that there was a foiled kidnap plot to snatch you and Alex. They showed a picture of where you were both staying. Jonathan is worried you are in danger.’

  I’m in danger? What about Alex?

  ‘I’m going to try and find the safe house,’ I say suddenly, surprising myself.

  ‘What?’ squeals Issy, ‘but you can’t possibly. You don’t have any idea where it is.’

  ‘I have a vague idea,’ I reply, knowing full well that I have no idea whatsoever. I have an overwhelming desire to see Alex.

  I wave over a tuk-tuk driver and ask if he knows where the nearest monastery is.

  ‘I take you for five dollar. It take forty minutes maybe.’

  Of course, I am quite aware it could be the wrong monastery but I agree, and we arrange for his friend to take mother and Issy back to the hotel. They are having none of it.

  ‘I can’t possibly let you go there alone. It might be dangerous,’ argues mother.

  ‘Quite,’ agrees Issy with a tremor in her voice.

  ‘Exactly and that is why I can’t allow you to come,’ I insist, pushing mother towards a waiting tuk-tuk.

  ‘Where you want to go, you want see temples?’ he asks.

  ‘No, we don’t need you. Please stop making such a nuisance of yourself. Here are two dollars for your time,’ says mother sternly.

  Oh God no, don’t give him money. He looks at mother wide-eyed, takes the money and drives off. Suddenly, we are surrounded by a mass of tuk-tuk drivers. I am seriously tempted to sell my mother into slavery.

  ‘You can’t possibly come with me,’ I exclaim loudly.

  ‘Why can’t I?’

  I sigh. There are just so many reasons why not and nowhere near enough time to tell mother any of them. We are now overcome with a sea of tuk-tuk drivers and mother is getting irritated.

  ‘No, I don’t want the airport you silly man. I have only just got here.’

  ‘I take you to temple, five dollar.’

  ‘I take you to temple, four dollar,’ offers another.

  ‘You want to go museum?’

  Th
is is getting out of hand. I see mother giving money to a beggar and fight back a scream. If Mother continues giving people money, willy-nilly, everyone will want some. I pull her through the throng and into the restaurant.

  ‘I don’t know much about the politics here but if you and Alex are right about the government, then this Colonel Poo…’ says Issy.

  ‘Pong,’ I correct.

  ‘I don’t care if it’s Colonel Shit,’ she snaps. ‘It’s dangerous for you to go alone. You should leave it to Jonathan. This Poo bloke…’

  ‘Pong,’ I correct again.

  ‘What the fuck does it matter! It’s bloody dangerous Libby.’

  I feel my heart thumping in my chest at just the thought of Alex and Colonel Pong’s henchmen finding him. My stomach has tied itself into knots. Alex is obviously in danger and the thought that he may get hurt makes me feel sick. I try his mobile but his phone is off. Why does he do that? Mother is looking at me expectantly and with that determined look on her face that I know so well.

  ‘You’re not coming,’ I say firmly.

  ‘You can’t go alone and I insist on coming with you.’

  ‘Me too,’ echo’s Issy. ‘But I’m phoning Jonathan and getting him to meet us there.’

  We are The Three Musketeers. When my mother is determined to do something there is not much I can do to stop her. I wave over the tuk-tuk driver.

  ‘Just don’t get us killed,’ I snap, trying Alex’s phone again.

  The journey to the safe house is one of the longest of my life. I have no idea what I am going to do once I get there. Why was I so stupid to leave there in the first place? We fly past paddy fields and fishing villages and both mother and Issy hang on tightly as the tuk-tuk bumps along the dusty roads. Children on the front of their father’s motorbike wave gleefully at us but we shoot by so fast that there is no time to wave back and we leave them engulfed in a trail of dust. I clasp my handbag close to my body while mother gasps every time when we go over a bump.

  To my disappointment, the monastery he takes us to is not the safe house and I groan loudly.

  ‘Can you take us to another one, please,’ I ask.

  Without delay we zoom off, mother’s head jerking back as we do so.

  ‘Could we ask him to slow down dear,’ she asks breathlessly. ‘Can’t you remind him that we are British and that back home we have roads.’

  I stifle my sigh.

  ‘We don’t have time to slow down. I did tell you to not to come.’

  ‘Well, it is rather exciting. Wait till I tell your father. He will be so impressed with us,’ she says clapping her hands excitedly.

  I shake my head and moan as my hip bangs against the side of the tuk-tuk. To my relief I begin to recognise the countryside, I see the safe house in the distance and I feel my heart pound like a drum. By the time we reach the driveway to the monastery we are all windswept and just a little frazzled.

  ‘I think we should walk from here,’ I say attempting to hide the tremble in my voice.

  ‘Wait here,’ Issy instructs the driver.

  ‘Aren’t we going to wait for the others?’ asks mother, mortified.

  How I wish we could. But Alex would expect me to be brave. God, what am I doing? I’m a publisher’s agent not the bloody bionic woman. I live in Fross for God’s sake not planet Krypton. Everyone knows Alex Bryant and nobody knows me. I’m almost thirty and I would very much like to one day be forty.

  ‘Would daddy wait for the others?’ I say boldly, knowing full well he wouldn’t.

  ‘But your father is a military man, he is duty bound to go in. But, we are just women,’ says mother in a shaky voice.

  ‘Never think of yourself as just a woman, mother, you are so much more than that,’ I say sounding like Emily Pankhurst.

  ‘Yes, of course,’ she replies, pulling her shoulders back.

  I throw the camera strap over my head and push the camera safely behind my back.

  ‘Come on,’ I say sounding braver than I feel. I grab her hand and we slowly walk along the driveway.

  ‘Ooh, I feel like I’m in a Tom Cruise film on a mission I’ve chosen to accept,’ she whispers.

  I give her a curious look.

  ‘I feel like I’m in a horror film,’ quakes Issy.

  ‘Do we have a gun?’ asks mother.

  Do we have a gun… what is she on.

  ‘A gun,’ squeals Issy. ‘When did you ever carry a gun?’

  ‘Of course not,’ I hiss back, wishing that I did.

  ‘I’ve got my pepper spray,’ declares mother.

  I stop and glare at her.

  ‘Why have you got pepper spray?’

  ‘In case of rape, dear,’

  ‘Oh my God,’ moans Issy.

  I don’t like to tell mother that her chances of being raped are very unlikely. We slowly approach the bend that will soon bring the house into view. I feel my breath catch in my throat. What if they have got there before us? What if Alex is…? No, I mustn’t think of things like that. We turn the bend and see a big black van parked near the house.

  ‘Oh dear, do you think that is Mr Poo’s?’ asks mother, visibly shaking.

  ‘His name is Pong, why does everyone call him Poo?’ I snap.

  ‘Issy told us it was Poo, don’t shout at me.’

  ‘I’m not shouting,’ I hiss back.

  ‘I don’t see it matters what we call him, he’s a shit anyway,’ mumbles Issy under her breath.

  ‘Bollocks, now look,’ cries Issy.

  I snap my head up.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘I snapped two nails gripping that bloody tuk-tuk.’

  ‘For God’s sake Issy,’ I groan.

  ‘Sorry,’ she mumbles.

  Mother gasps and I look up to see four men bundling Alex, Lucky and Mr Navy out of the house. I push mother and Issy into the bushes and quickly follow. Alex’s words materialise in front of my eyes, Intelligence is the most powerful weapon. Always remember that. Without a second thought I pull my Blackberry out and focus the camera lens onto Alex. I click the shutter several times and then try to get the other men into focus. My hands are shaking so much that I can barely hold the phone. Alex is pushed into the back of the van with Lucky and Mr Navy and two of the men climb into the front while the other two look around. I duck down and struggle to calm my beating heart. I can hear mother’s rapid breathing and hope they cannot hear it too.

  ‘Oh dear, dear me, we really should phone the others,’ she whispers clenching and unclenching my hand.

  ‘I’m sure Jonathan will be here soon,’ Issy whispers comfortingly.

  We watch as the van begins the slow turn to manoeuvre back out of the driveway. I shove mother further into the bushes and Issy and I dive in behind her. The van zooms past us. As soon as the van had turned the corner I grab mother’s hand and run for all I am worth to the house. I skid to a halt at the sight of the motorbike which sits outside and recognise it as Bourey’s. Mother starts to go into the house but I stop her. Issy and I stare at the bike.

  ‘You can’t Libs, you just can’t. Please don’t,’ Issy begs.

  ‘Go back to the bushes and wait for the others to come,’ I say. I hand her my handbag and push my phone into my dress pocket before climbing onto the motorcycle.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Mother looks at me in horror.

  ‘I’m going to follow them. I’ve got my Blackberry. Get Jamie to call me. I can tell you where they go.’

  Before I can stop her she has shoved the handbag into the top box on the back of the bike along with her own. Don’t tell me she is going to come with me.

  ‘No way,’ I snap lifting my leg over.

  ‘I never knew you had it in you, Libby,’ she says, while struggling in her pencil-line skirt to lift her leg over the bike.

  ‘This is crazy, but fun,’ cries Issy. ‘I’ll follow you in the tuk-tuk.’

  God, we will be a bloody convoy. I watch with fascination as mother carefully remov
es a small pair of scissors from her Cath Kidston make-up bag.

  ‘How did you get those through customs?’ I gasp.

  ‘There are ways dear. I have everything we need.’

  She slices through the material and then cocks her leg over the bike.

  ‘Hit it, let’s rock and roll,’ she cries.

  ‘The Three Musketeers,’ shouts Issy.

  ‘Good heavens,’ is all I can muster.

  I turn the key in the ignition and experience a little buzz at the feel of the throbbing engine. Heavens, it’s been a while since I had something so big and powerful between my legs. The last time I had ridden a motorcycle was aged twenty and I had driven my boyfriend’s bike all around the village until mother got wind of it. I’m a bit rusty, however, and shoot off so fast that mother has to grab me tightly to stop from flying off the back.

  ‘Don’t lose us,’ I call to Issy over my shoulder.

  I zoom out of the driveway and after about five minutes I spot the van. I hear the roar of the tuk-tuk bike and pray that Issy can keep up.

  ‘This is when we need a gun,’ screams mother over the noise. ‘We could shoot the tyres.’

  My mother never ceases to amaze me. The free feeling I am getting from being on a bike again is wonderfully liberating. I really should do this more often. Not chase kidnappers in the heart of Cambodia, of course, but ride a bike again, most certainly. Since coming to Cambodia with Alex I have felt my confidence grow and I am beginning to think I can do anything. As we leave the countryside and enter the outskirts of the city I feel my stomach churn. How will I ever negotiate the bike amongst all those other motorbikes and tuk-tuks without causing an accident? I may well have to abort the mission if we go into the city. Fortunately, the van takes a turning before entering the city and we continue along the dusty dirt tracks. The road is so bumpy that I feel sure mother will bounce off the back of the bike. I slow down to negotiate the bumps and see the van disappear from view.