I sat down and stared at the pictures. She had a husband. A husband. She'd gone back to Surin with him. She was living with him. She was keeping him, with my money. She was making love to him. Sleeping with him. She loved him.
I dropped the sheets of fax paper on to the sofa and paced up and down. Maybe there'd been a mistake. Maybe Phiraphan had made it up, maybe he'd wanted to justify his fee. You could never believe anything a Thai told you, nine times out of ten they'd tell you what you wanted to hear.
I picked up the sheets and read them again. Everyone in the village knew about Joy and her husband. I'd been to the village with Bruno and Pam. I'd been introduced to Joy's family and friends at the birthday party. If what Phiraphan said was true, every single one of them had known that I was being deceived, that I was being played like a one-string fiddle. I stared at the questionnaire. It was definitely her signature. It was definitely her in the photograph.
No, there was no mistake. No doubt. She was married and she'd been lying to me from the moment I set eyes on her. I wanted to telephone her there and then, to accuse her, to scream at her, to ask her why, why she'd lied to me, but I knew there was no point. First, she'd deny it. She'd try to convince me that there'd been a terrible mistake, that I was the only man she loved. And if that didn't work, she'd just cut off all contact. I'd never hear from her again and she'd find another stupid farang to subsidise her lifestyle. She was playing a game with me, the game of conning the farang. That's all I was to her, a farang to be played with. Big Ron had warned me, and God knows I'd heard all the stories myself, I knew the dangers of falling for a bargirl but I'd always believed that Joy was different, that Joy was being straight with me, that she wasn't playing a game. I'd been wrong, right from the start.
I paced up and down the flat, faster and faster, wanting to do something, wanting to react, but feeling totally powerless because she was so far away. That's what the hurt the most, the fact that I couldn't confront her with her infidelity.
I kept looking at the photograph, hoping that there had been some ghastly mistake, but it was definitely her, sitting next to her husband and smiling prettily at the camera. It was the same guileless smile she had in the photographs that Bruno had taken of the two of us in Isarn. How could she do it? How could she lie to me? How could she write the letters she'd written?
I'd told her, before she'd agreed to stop work, I'd told her that if she had a Thai boyfriend or a husband I didn't mind, I'd still be her customer. I'd still see her, I'd still give her money. But if she wanted me to take care of her she had to be honest with me. She'd looked me straight in the eye and lied. She had no one, she'd said. She only had me. Why had she lied? And what about Sunan? And her father? And all the people I'd met in her village? The girls in Zombie? They must all have known that Joy had a husband and that I was only the farang meal ticket.
I looked at the photograph again. It was the kitchen of her house, Joy and her husband sitting at the kitchen table, the table where she'd given me a cup of tea to drink. He was wearing a denim shirt that looked several sizes too big for him. I stopped pacing and stared at the photograph. I recognised the shirt. It was one of mine. I'd given it to Joy two or three months ago. She'd come back to my hotel in a tiny tank top and I’d wanted her to wear something less revealing when she left in the morning. I'd given her a pale blue denim shirt and told her that she could keep it. It looked much better on her than it did on me, but she'd gone and given it to her husband. How could he wear it? Didn't he have any shame? I was sleeping with his wife and he was wearing my shirt. Was the money that important to him? Or did Joy mean so little?
None of it made any sense to me. If he really loved her, why didn't he take care of her? Why didn't he get a job and ask her to stop work? How could he live with himself, knowing that his wife was sleeping with another man? How could he wear the fucking shirt? Didn't it remind him of what his wife was doing? And what about Joy? Didn't she think about me every time she looked at the shirt? Didn't it remind her of the time we spent together? Didn't it remind her of me? Or was it just a shirt she'd conned out of the stupid farang? Maybe it was a trophy of sorts.
I looked at the photograph more closely. She wasn't wearing the Mickey Mouse watch I'd given her. She always had it on in Bangkok, it matched the one I wore and she always made a big thing of showing them to her friends. Now she was back in Surin, she wasn't wearing the watch. What did that mean? The shirt was okay but the watch wasn't?
It was as if I was involved in some weird game but that I hadn't been told all the rules. I didn't even know how I could win. If I stopped giving her money, Joy would just go and find some other farang to support her and her husband. She had nothing to lose and everything to gain.
I wanted to win, I wanted to show her that I wasn't the same as all the other farangs who were being fleeced in the bars. I wanted to show her that I was different. I paced around my apartment, wracking my brains. If I was going to get my own back I was going to have to take my revenge Thai-style. I was going to have to think like a Thai.
NIGEL
Pete telephoned me one evening and told me that Joy was married. Can't say I was all that surprised, I mean most of them have husbands or boyfriends. Why wouldn't they? They don't work in go-go bars because they want to meet the man of their dreams, do they? They work for money, it's just a job like any other so of course they don't cut off all their relationships. Did he really expect a hooker to be faithful to him? Well, maybe he did, but that's his own fault. I'd told him enough times the way things were, and so did the rest of the guys in Fatso's. I made sympathetic noises but I couldn't say too much because there was a pretty little thing from G-Spot lying next to me and although her English wasn't too hot a lot of these girls understand more than they let on. Pete kept saying that he wanted to get his own back and I tried to talk him out of it. ‘It's a bloody game to them,’ he said. ‘And I want to show them that I'm a better player than they are. I'm not going to let them win,’ he said.
He's wrong. It isn't a game to these girls, that's the whole point. It's a way of life. It's how they earn their living. I don't reckon he should have tried to punish her for doing what comes naturally. She was a hooker, hooking, and he had no more right to punish her for that than to take revenge on a spider for catching flies. I didn't tell him that, though. In fact, I barely remember what I did say to him because half way through the conversation the girl I was with started to get a bit jealous and began trying to get my attention. She succeeded, too. I told Pete I had to go and that I'd speak to him later.
PETE
I knew the one thing I couldn't do was to confront Joy with what she'd done. She'd deny it, for sure. And if I told her that I had a signed confession and a photograph, she'd do whatever she could to avoid any further conflict. She'd just put the phone down and not speak to me. Thais hate being confronted by their mistakes or lies, it's not in their culture to accuse people of falsehoods or to rub their noses in their errors. It's all about face, and if I told Joy I knew that she'd lied to me, she'd lose face. But in her mind, I'd be the one in the wrong because I'd behaved badly by pointing out that she'd lied.
It was game, and if I really wanted to win the game, I was going to have to play by the rules. No conflict. No arguments or name-calling. I had to punish her with a smile.
I kept calling her, and she was always there. ‘I love you, Pete. I want you come to Thailand see me.’ Now that I knew the truth, I could see that she was almost working to a script. She'd tell me she loved me, but at some point she'd always manage to bring up that she was short of money. She never actually asked me to send her any, she never said the words, but I always got the message. I tell you, if I hadn't known the truth, if I hadn't received Phiraphan's report and photographs, I'd have been convinced that I was the centre of Joy's life, that she loved me with all her heart. But I did know the truth and for all I knew her husband was next to her at the phone box, sitting astride the motorcycle I was paying for, grinning at his lov
ely wife as she ripped off the farang in another country.
I couldn't concentrate on the London book. Every time I sat down at the word processor, I found myself looking at the photographs of Joy that I'd put up on the wall. Even when I took them down and put them in a drawer, I couldn't get her out of my mind. Alistair sent me an e-mail asking how I was getting on and I told him everything was fine. It wasn't, I was falling behind schedule, but I was sure that I'd be able to get back on track once I'd sorted out the Joy thing. I figured that once I got my revenge I'd be able to get on with my life.
Joy had made me look foolish, and to win the game I reckoned that I had to do the same to her. I had to make her lose face in front of her family and friends. And her husband.
I baited the trap early on, about a week after I'd received Phiraphan's fax. I told her that work was going well and that I hoped to be back in Thailand before her birthday. And I told her that my boss had given me a big bonus and that I thought I'd be able to buy her a pick-up truck as a birthday present. She asked me if I was sure and I said yes, I'd bring the money with me. And I said that we should have a big party on her birthday, like we'd done the year previously. Maybe we could go to the same place, the Chicago Karaoke Bar in Suphan Kwai. Joy sounded so happy that I felt guilty, so after I'd hung up I read through Phiraphan's report and looked at the photographs until the anger returned. She'd asked for it, I told myself, she'd lured me into the game and she only had herself to blame if she got hurt.
Two days later I phoned her again. Joy said she'd talked to her father and they'd decided that we should either get a Toyota or an Isuzu pick-up. I didn't believe for one minute that it was her father she'd discussed it with. It'd have been her husband, for sure. I could picture the two of them sitting at the kitchen table, going through brochures, deciding how to spend the gullible farang's money. I asked her what her father thought we should buy. ‘He say Toyota best, but Isuzu not so expensive if something go wrong.’
I had a sudden urge to hug her and to tell her that I knew she'd been lying to me but that I didn't care, I still loved her. She was so damn cute. I was offering her a pick-up truck and she was worrying about how much it'd cost to repair.
I said okay, we'd get an Isuzu. I asked her what colour she wanted. ‘Up to you,’ she said. ‘What you like?’
‘Red,’ I said.
‘Okay, I want red, too.’
I told her I'd call her again in two days and she blew kisses down the phone to me before she hung up.
Two days later when I rang, she told me that everyone in her village was excited about the pick-up. ‘Pete, my father say we should buy Isuzu SLX. It has air, has everything.’
I said sure, the SLX would be great. I asked her if she'd told her father about the party because I'd like him to go. And Sunan, and Bird, and all her family. The previous year about thirty people had turned up at the karaoke bar, this year I wanted more. Joy said that she wasn't sure if everybody could come because they couldn't all afford the bus fare from Surin to Bangkok. I told her not to worry, that I'd reimburse them all when I got there. I felt like a poker player who was sitting on four aces, gradually raising the stakes to keep the players in, knowing full well that he was certain to keep the pot.
I kept up the charade for more than a month, calling her every couple of days, sending her a card every month, telling her how much I missed her and loved her. When she asked me about her ‘monthly salary’ I said that as I was coming back I'd give it her when I saw her because I didn't like the idea of sending it through the post. She said that was a good idea and that she'd borrow some money from Sunan.
About a week before her birthday I told her that I'd bought my ticket back to Thailand and that I'd be arriving early in the morning. She said she'd meet me at the airport, and that Sunan would be with her. I asked her if all her family would be going to the party and she said yes, and that they were all excited. ‘They want see you, too much,’ she said.
I asked her if she'd arrange a birthday cake, similar to the one we'd had at the previous year's party. I'd gone to the cake shop in the Peninsula Hotel and ordered a huge cake with figures of Mickey and Minnie Mouse on it and ‘Happy Birthday Joy and Pete’ in icing letters. ‘Good idea,’ she said. ‘I get for you.’
I said that we'd go and buy the Isuzu on the day of her birthday and that we'd drive it back to Surin. It was Joy who brought up the matter of a deposit. She said that if I wanted to buy a red Isuzu SLX they'd have to order it in advance and they wouldn't do that without a deposit. It was brilliant, she was raising the stakes herself. The perfect game. I said there was no way I could get the deposit to her in time, but that I'd be bringing the money with me in US dollars. ‘I have idea,’ she said.
Her idea was to pawn the gold that I'd given her and to use that money as the deposit. When I got back to Bangkok I could give her the money to get the gold back. I said it was a great idea.
After I'd hung up I started to feel guilty again. I found myself wishing that there'd been some sort of mistake, that she did love me, that she wasn't being unfaithful. But I knew I was only trying to fool myself because I had the evidence. The application form Phiraphan had sent me was in Thai and I'd worked through it with my dictionary, checking every answer she'd given. There was no doubt, no mistake, no misunderstanding. When she'd been asked for her marital status, she'd written ‘married’. End of story. Whatever happened from now on, it was her own fault.
NIGEL
I got a phone call from Pete at about seven o'clock in the morning. I was knackered, I'd only been in bed for about four hours and for most of that time I'd been occupied with a girl from the Rainbow Bar, a cute little thing I've known for years. She's a great lay but I've got to use a condom with her because she injects heroin. I always insist that she doesn't bring any gear back to my room because the cops would love another farang to put behind bars for fifty years or so. She says she never shares her needles but you can't believe a word Thais say so I always use a condom, and a British or American one at that. Thai condoms are no bloody use, for a start they're too damn tight, Thai men being smaller than us farangs for the most part, and too damn likely to burst under pressure. Must be the latex they use.
Anyway, Pete starts jabbering on about the game, about how he was going to win. I told him he'd be better off just forgetting about her and finding another girl. I mean, it's not hard in Thailand, there's millions of them. There must be over two thousand hookers working out of Nana Plaza alone, you're spoilt for choice. But there was no talking to him. He asked me if I had a pen and then had me write down the number of a mobile phone.
‘It's Sunan's,’ he said. ‘She and Joy should be at the airport, I want you to call them and tell them that my flight's been delayed and that I won't be getting into Bangkok until late tonight. Tell them that they're to start the party without me.’
He had to repeat what he'd said because it didn't make any sense, and then he explained the whole plan to me. I had to admit, it was bloody funny, the thought of two dozen of Joy's friends and relatives coming down on the bus for a party, pawning their gold for a pick-up truck they weren't going to get, and then turning up at the karaoke bar to wait for him.
Anyway, I did as he asked, I called Sunan and said that I wanted to speak to Joy. They were both at the airport, just as Pete had said. I told Joy that Pete would be late. She sounded disappointed but I told her that we'd meet her at the karaoke bar in the evening. She said she wanted to wait at the airport but I said we weren't sure what time he'd be getting in. She asked me if I was going to the party and I said sure, I wouldn't miss it for the world. That seemed to reassure her. Did I feel bad about deceiving her? Not really, I've been lied too so many times by bargirls that it was a pleasant change to be on the other side of the fence for once. I mean, yeah, Joy was a cute girl, but taking money off Pete and giving it to her husband is just taking the piss. Joy asked me if I wanted to go to Surin with her and Pete. Pete was going to buy her an Isuzu she said. A red
one. Pete really had spun her a line. I hope he never gets the hump at me.
I was wide awake by the time I'd hung up so I shook whatshername and gave her a good seeing to before getting up. Bitch insisted I gave her an extra two hundred baht but what the hell, she was worth it.
PETE
I spent pretty much the whole day staring at my watch. Bangkok was six hours ahead of London and I figured that Joy and her family would probably get to the karaoke bar at about nine in the evening. At three o'clock in the afternoon I poured myself a gin and tonic. I pictured them all sitting around the VIP room, same as we did last year, ordering bottles of Johnnie Walker Black Label and knocking it back like there was no tomorrow, figuring that the farang would be along to pick up the bill. Joy would be singing. She loved karaoke, and she had a good voice. I drank my gin and tonic and remembered how she used to sing to me, holding my hand and looking into my eyes. I wondered if her husband had gone to the karaoke bar with her, and if he was there with her now. Had he been there a year ago, sitting with the group of the guys in the corner as Joy entertained me and Mon did the bargirl thing with Nigel?
The phone started ringing just after five o'clock in the afternoon. I left the answering machine switched on and it took the calls. The first time she didn't say anything but I could hear music in the background and Thai voices, laughing and singing. She called again about half an hour later. She didn't leave a message but I could hear her talking to Sunan.
After she'd hung up, I played back the tape. I couldn't believe what I was hearing so I played it several times. There was no mistake.
‘Man mai yoo,’ said Joy. ‘Ben khrueng chak.’
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