I find the pandemonium strangely soothing – it makes my own inner turmoil about Andy pale by comparison. I finally start to relax, especially when Toby puts a hand on the small of my back to guide me across the road. To my eyes, there isn’t a single gap in the traffic that a human could squeeze through, but Toby finds a way. ‘The trick is to just keep walking,’ he says. It turns out he’s been in southern Vietnam for two months already, and he’s worked out all the tricks. ‘Just walk your walk and let them find a way around you,’ he says. ‘Trust me.’ I do, and it works.
Two hours later we stagger into the lobby of the Rose of Hanoi. I am starving, drenched with sweat, and I have no idea what colour the walls are or whether there were any bloody lanterns hanging over the door. I collapse onto the front desk and stay there, my cheek soaking up the coolness of the granite.
‘Miss Walker?’ says the clerk.
‘Oh my god, I’ve never been so happy to hear someone say my name.’
Toby decides he may as well stay here too, so the clerk checks us both in. Half an hour later, having rinsed off a day’s worth of sweat and changed out of my travelling clothes, I knock on Toby’s door. He opens it smelling deliciously of vetiver and soap. We look at each other and it’s obvious there’s only one thing on our minds.
‘Beer?’ he asks.
‘You bet.’
In no time at all we’re sitting on plastic stools at a roadside noodle stand, with giant bowls of beef pho and icy bottles of Bia Hoi beer in front of us.
‘To new friends,’ says Toby, with a wink.
Bia Hoi, as it turns out, is rather nice, not to mention cheap. So nice and cheap that I lose track of how many I’ve had and before I know it Toby and I have joined up with the Australians at the table next to us.
‘You’ve got to come with us, I promise you you’ll have the night of your life,’ says one. He’s wearing a Bia Hoi t-shirt, and the look in his eye makes me think he might be telling the truth.
‘That’s a big call,’ I say. ‘What are you offering, exactly?’
‘It’s called Apocalypse Wow. It’s a club that has every kind of person you could ever want to meet. Everyone from ex-Army generals to K-Pop stars. All the expat detritus of Southeast Asia washes up here at one stage or another. Seriously, you can’t miss it.’
Five hours later, I’m starting to wish that miss it is exactly what I’d done. Forget dancing on a bar and singing ‘Relight My Fire’ – I’m dancing around a pole to ‘Leave Your Hat On’ while Toby pretends to stuff dollar bills down my jeans. After we’ve downed our eleven millionth glass of Dalat red wine, we do an impromptu, centre-of-the-floor dance routine to ‘You’re the One that I Want’ and our fans buy us free drinks for the rest of the night. When we’re not dancing, we’re curled up on a leather sofa in the corner, talking. When Toby leans in a little too close, so that his lips brush my ear, I wonder if I should mention Andy. But I don’t want to be the girl who squeals, ‘I have a boyfriend!’ at any guy who talks to her, especially when I’m not even sure that’s true.
It’s after 4am by the time we get back to the hotel.
‘Toby,’ I slur outside my door, a matey hand on his shoulder. ‘That was a brilliant, brilliant night. Thank you.’
He smiles and puts a hand over mine. ‘It sure was. Hey, what are you doing tomorrow?’
‘Um, need to check itinerary… now it’s… something.’
‘Want to hang out? I could use some company.’
‘Ha, lonely on the road is it?’ I say, a little more sarcastically than I intended.
He laughs.
‘It can be. But I guess you don’t realise how lonely until you meet a girl who reminds you how much fun other people can be.’
‘Hmm, so what, we’d just hang out together, the two of us, all day?’
‘Yeah, like a date. You’ve been on a date before, right?’
Would now be a good time to mention Andy?
‘Um…no. Not really.’
Toby leans against the doorframe.
‘Oh man. I’d forgotten you Brits don’t date. You just go to the pub and get hammered and then, what do you call it, ‘get off’ with each other, right?’
And, I think, it has served us well for generations, so why stop now? But this conversation needs to stop, before I’m ill all over him.
‘Okay, sounds good. Come get me around ten. Goodnight!’
I scurry into my room and slam the door before he can reply.
I wake to the thunderous sound of road works. In my head. These soon make way for a persistent ringing, which at first I assume is also imaginary, before realising it’s the phone next to my bed.
‘He-hello?’
‘Miss Walker? Man here to see you,’ says a girl’s voice.
That’s strange. Why has Toby not just knocked on my door?
‘Oh, can you send him up to my room?’
‘No guests in room miss, you come.’ She hangs up.
Five minutes later I’m standing in the lobby wearing last night’s clothes, which, handily, I have slept in. In the cold light of day I notice a giant Dalat red wine stain all down the front of my white t-shirt. Judging by the look on his face, so does the man who has come to see me. A man who is very noticeably not Toby. In fact, there are three men, all wearing navy uniforms with badges sewn on their chests saying something in Vietnamese and, under that, ‘Health Department’.
‘Miss Walker?’ says the wine noticer. ‘Are you Miss Walker from London, flight VN368 with Vietnam Airlines?’
Wow, he sure is up to speed.
‘Er, yes, that’s me,’ I say, crossing my arms in front of my chest to cover up the wine shame. ‘Is something the matter?’
‘Miss Walker, don’t panic, nothing wrong. But we have discovered there was person on your flight who was carrying…’
He turns to the receptionist and asks her something. She nods.
‘Carrying what?’ I say. Please don’t let him say, ‘Five kilograms of cocaine! Which he said belongs to you. Surprise!’
‘Pig disease!’ says the receptionist.
What? Oh god, does she mean swine flu? At the airport they made us walk through body scanners to check our temperature – a high temp is one of the signs, apparently. Mine was fine, although when I was standing in Arrivals I did hear the machine beep. Brilliant.
‘This person was in row in front of you,’ says the health officer. ‘Pig flu highly contagious. We need to keep you away from others, in quarantine, until we know you are not carrying the pig flu.’
Shit, buggery, bollocks.
After establishing that I feel completely fine and giving me a quick once over, they tell me to go to my room and stay there. ‘Can take seven days to know if you have the pig flu.’
‘But that’s a third of my holiday!’ I wail.
He shrugs his shoulders and moves for the door. ‘We come back to see you tonight, give you update. Stay here. You okay in a few days, you maybe go early.’
I’m headed for the stairs, shoulders slumped, thinking of mum’s lovely itinerary all down the drain, when the receptionist calls out to me.
‘Miss Jane, little problem,’ she says. What now? ‘We need your room. Only can stay one night. Your friend, you share room together, okay?’
This is officially a farce.
Toby sticks his head out the door when he hears me coming up the stairs, muttering. I tell him what happened and of course he laughs like a total hyena. Especially when I tell him the receptionist’s suggestion.
‘Your place or mine?’ he asks, smirk barely concealed.
‘Neither! You should actually stay the hell away from me. I’m potentially riddled with pig disease.’
‘Oh come on, of course you’re not.’ He gives my arm a gentle punch. ‘The scanners would have gone off. Stay in my room tonight, or as long as you have to. You’ll need someone to bring you food and drink from the outside world won’t you? I can do that.’
He has a point. I can’t rel
y on the hotel vending machine for three square meals.
‘Okay, thanks. Keep out of sight of the health inspectors though, or you’ll be locked up too.’ I doubt the receptionist will mention us sharing a room, or she’ll lose both of us.
‘Alright. Come over when you’re ready. I’ll line up some Vietnamese soap operas for us to watch.’
While I’m packing my bag I start to get angry. Really angry. At the health inspectors, and at the stupid person who travelled with swine flu, and at Andy for leaving me to deal with all of this by myself. Why should I be forced to waste a perfectly good holiday when I know I’m 100% healthy? As I hurl the last of my underwear into my rucksack, I decide on a plan. Then I knock on Toby’s door and barge in before he answers.
‘Hey. All ready for a marathon session of illicit romance down on the rice paddies?’
‘No.’
‘I was only kidding – we can watch whatever you want. But I’m …’
‘Not that. I mean, the quarantine. No bloody way. I’m not having it.’
Toby puts on his diplomatic courtroom face.
‘Kid, I don’t think you have much choice.’
‘Toby, I didn’t work two jobs for six months, while studying for my final exams, get shafted by my travel buddy, and fly halfway around the world just to sit in a crappy hotel room for who knows how long waiting for some officious little busybody to tell me what I already know. That I’m fine!’
For a long moment the only sound comes from the TV, as a poor but beautiful farm girl declares her love for the farmer’s handsome son. At least now I know what kind of ‘hilarious’ Toby must think I am. But I am past caring. My temperature was normal, and I feel fine. Which is why I’m going to bust the hell out of here.
‘I checked my itinerary. I’ve got two tickets to Ha Long Bay leaving in an hour. I thought it was tomorrow, but it’s today. Let’s use them.’
‘You’re seriously going to run off? Skip quarantine?’ Poor Toby has stopped smiling. He actually seems a bit scared now.
‘Yes! And if you’re clever you’ll come with me.’
He stares at me silently, trying to decide just how much of a fruit loop I am.
‘What happens if we get caught?’
‘I imagine we’ll just be sent back here. They can’t put us in jail, we haven’t broken any laws.’
‘You think? I’m not exactly up to speed with the Vietnamese criminal code. I get the impression it might be pretty damn harsh.’
I roll my eyes.
‘Okay. Even if only because I don’t want you going on the run on your own, and because you might need a lawyer when you’re caught – I’m in.’
I grin at him. There’s something very appealing about getting a bit ‘Bonnie and Clyde’ with this man. I couldn’t imagine Andy agreeing to disobey the Vietnamese health department in a million years.
Within minutes we’re sneaking down the hotel’s back stairs and hitching a ride to the bus station on two motorbikes. We take our seats without anyone giving us a second glance, and soon we’re merrily rumbling past rice paddies on our way to Ha Long Bay.
I’m delighted to find our boat is a proper wooden junk with proper sails and portholes and two hammocks strung up on deck. Lee, our guide, greets us with a huge smile, takes our bags, hands us a beer, and then shows us to our room. Singular. Of course, I only booked one room. And of course, being on a boat, it’s pretty small. The room, and the bed. Toby obviously senses what I’m thinking, because as soon as Lee has left us he turns and puts his hands on my shoulders.
‘Don’t worry about the bed,’ he says. ‘I’ll sleep on the floor, and I won’t hear a word about it.’ I smile gratefully. That’s a decision I’m not ready to make yet.
The boat lifts anchor and we sail into the bay, Toby and I on the roof deck with our legs over the edge and the sun beating down on our backs. It’s amazing. My guidebook tells me there are around 2,000 limestone islands rising from the bay’s dark teal water, many shaped like giant beehives.
The six other people on board, all couples, assume we’re a couple too, and I let them. I don’t want anyone asking how I came to be here. I don’t want to explain where my real boyfriend is, or why I keep looking over my shoulder back at the shore for police cars.
When it’s dark, Lee calls us downstairs for a feast of seafood and salads, and tells us to help ourselves to the ice boxes of beer. After we have eaten, Toby and I grab a couple of bottles and a pack of cards and head to the bow.
We sit for hours into the moonless night, until the sea is inky black. Behind us on the top deck the others are dancing to Basement Jaxx by candlelight. I don’t feel like dancing, and I guess I’m not being great company right now because Toby throws his cards down and looks at me.
‘Do you think they’ll come after you?’ he asks.
I sigh. ‘I have no idea. I hope not. We’re stuck on the boat for three days anyway. I’ll worry about it when we get back.’
He smiles, and for a second I think he’s going to say something else, but he just turns and looks at the water.
‘The locals say these islands grew from pearls that fell from the mouth of a dragon, did you know?’
‘No. Beautiful,’ I murmur.
‘Ha Long means ‘descending dragon’.’
I’m about to reply when, out of the corner of my eye, I see a flash of blue in the water.
‘Jesus, what was that?’
Toby is on his feet, leaning overboard.
‘Yes! It’s the bioluminescent plankton!’ he yells.
‘The what now?’
‘Plankton that glows in the dark! We have to get in!’ Before I know it he has peeled off his t-shirt and jumped overboard. Amazingly, electric blue light scatters in a hundred directions from where his body hits the water. It’s the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen. I dive in right after him. When the others hear the splash they come running, and soon we’re all in the sea, pretending we’re in Star Wars and shooting each other with plankton lasers.
I look around me at all the happy faces, and this amazing phenomenon I’ve never heard of before, and for a moment I wish Andy was here to share it. I have to remember he chose not to be. But did I make the right decision in coming without him?
Back on board, Toby suggests we sleep in the hammocks. We lie there into the small hours, talking and laughing about absolutely nothing. And when he says, ‘You know, I wasn’t expecting to meet anyone like you here. You’re pretty amazing,’ and reaches out his hand, I take it.
‘Come over here,’ I say.
By some miracle he manages to climb into my hammock without tipping us both out. For a few moments we just lie there, wrapped up in each other, then he cups my face in his hands and kisses my salty lips, and I know I made the right decision.
The next morning we are covered in angry red mosquito bites. Forget the swine flu, I look like I have the world’s worst case of chicken pox. No more sleeping in the hammock for us. The day passes in a happy blur of swimming, eating, sunbathing and kayaking to secret caves, where monkeys come down to the water and reach their tiny paws out for bananas. And if we don’t have any, the little turds jump on our kayaks and ransack our bags. Toby and I spend every minute together, grinning like loons, mostly. I haven’t felt this giddy in four years. After dinner, I lead him into my cabin and we sit cross-legged on the bed, facing each other. With a deep breath, I spill out the story of Andy and me.
‘Coming here has made me realise we’ve outgrown each other,’ I say when I’m done. ‘But until I get home and we have The Conversation, it doesn’t feel right to be sleeping with anyone else.’
‘Who said anything about sex? I just need to get my ass the hell the way from those mosquitoes.’ Toby pulls me towards him and presses his lips into my hair. ‘You got things you need to sort out kid. That’s cool. Do it. We’ve all been there. We’re all on a journey.’ I stifle a laugh. It’s only because he’s American that I let him get away with that.
On the final morning I wake up with a dead weight in my stomach. I’m dreading going back to the mainland to face who knows what, and I nearly cry when our little junk pulls up to the jetty. The past few days have been a perfect bubble of happiness, being on the run notwithstanding. In fact, being on the run is just the kind of thrill that’s been missing from my life.
I cast a wary eye towards the car park. No sign of any health inspectors. The bus I’m taking south is already there, waiting to meet the boats. I pick up my bag and head straight for it, Toby beside me, my eyes on the ground. I’m almost there when I hear a voice call my name.
Oh. Shit.
Heart racing, I slowly turn around, but to my surprise it’s not the health officers who are racing across the car park towards me. It’s worse. It’s Andy. Andy in fisherman’s pants and, oh god, one of those triangle bamboo hats the Vietnamese wear in the rice paddies, but Andy alright.
‘Andy! Wh-what are you doing here?’
‘Surprise! Come here bubba!’ As he leans in to nuzzle my neck I recall, for the thousandth time, how much I hate him calling me that. Always have. Like I’m half baby, half blubber. Over Andy’s shoulder I see Toby wincing and biting his lip.
‘I don’t understand,’ I say, trying to sound surprised rather than shocked.
‘I was an idiot. Forgive me? Pretty much as soon as you left I realised how selfish I’d been.’
‘But how did you get here? I mean…’
‘I rang your mum. She had your itinerary, so I worked out where you’d be, bought a ticket on my credit card, and here I am. I’m sorry bubba.’ He lifts my hands to his mouth. ‘Look, no more breaks, okay? It’s time to settle down for real. When we get home I think we should find a little flat together. What do you say?’
It’s time? And when you change your mind and need another break, which one of us will have to move out? No, it’s not time. I pull my hands away and shake my head.
Sunlounger - the Ultimate Beach Read (Sunlounger Stories Book 1) Page 22