This is bad.
All my money and cards were in there. And my phone!
And, oh my God! My passport!
How could this have happened? I mentally re-trace my footsteps. I bought the turquoise necklace…and then the satays…damn it! It must have been when I was walking through the crowd to find a taxi.
“Stop!” I yell at the driver. “I have to go back! My stuff is gone!”
He pulls over to the kerb and turns to face me.
“Look!” I show him my bag. “Everything has fallen out!”
“Oh, that is no good. Someone must have cut your bag. It sometimes happens in crowded areas.”
“But my passport was in there! And all my money!”
“You don’t have other money in your pocket?”
“No!” I feel hysteria rising in my chest.
“So you cannot pay for this tuk-tuk?”
“Oh. No. I suppose not.”
“Then please get out.”
“Can you at least take me back to Khaosan Road? Or the nearest hotel?”
“Sorry. I need money for petrol.”
“What if I write down my details and I give you the money later?” I ask, feeling more panicked by the second.
“Sorry, no. You are tourist. You could just disappear. Please get out of my taxi.”
I feel tears rolling down my face. I’m too defeated to argue. “OK,” I say softly and climb out. He takes off, leaving me stranded on a dark street in the middle of nowhere.
I’m in shock. I feel so violated. A bunch of irrational thoughts streak through my brain…like how I really liked my phone, with its cute leather case that Aaron brought me back from overseas. And how my purse was this fancy Marc Jacobs one I bought just after I landed my current job. Or how I’ve now lost the Chanel lipstick Mia gave me three years ago that I didn’t want to throw away because I knew it cost fifty dollars and I wanted to keep it until it was finished—even though the colour didn’t suit me.
But obviously the worst part of everything is that now someone has access to all my identification and personal information. Not to mention all my photos and apps.
I have travel insurance, but I don’t even know where to begin sorting everything out. Should I find the police and file a report? How am I even going to get back to the hotel?
I look at the nearby buildings. I seem to be in an area that only operates during business hours, because all the shops and offices are closed.
I start walking along the street in what I hope is the right direction. For what, I don’t know. I’m just hoping I stumble across a convenience store or hotel soon, so I can use their phone and figure out my next move.
I now regret drinking that bucket cocktail. My brain feels like it’s only working at half capacity.
I keep an eye out for any signs of life, but don’t see anything. The driver must have taken a shortcut through some back streets. If I was on the main road, maybe I would have more luck. It’s hard to see my way on the path, and I constantly trip on pieces of broken concrete. At one point, I almost step into an open drain. The air reeks of garbage bins and sewage, which makes me long for the lovely air-conditioned air at my hotel. The humidity out here is high, even at night, and my dress is soon sticking to me. My carefully styled hair has no doubt frizzed up, and my mascara has probably run, but I’m beyond worrying about silly things like that. This is fast becoming a matter of life and death. What if I’m in some Thai mafia territory and I don’t even know? I could get shot or stabbed. Does Thailand even have a mafia?
I’m bordering on a full-blown meltdown when I see an alley, brightly lit with fluorescent tubes, leading through to a cosy-looking shop that still appears to be open.
I gratefully hurry towards it and throw open the door. Inside is quiet, and I immediately regret making such a loud racket. But then I feel strangely at ease. The air smells quite strongly of perfume, like a cosmetics counter at a department store. I don’t know if it’s the fact that my mind is making associations with home, or if I’m just happy to have found somewhere open, but I feel my heart rate slow a tiny bit.
“Hello?” I call out. There’s no one in the shop, but there is a doorway behind the counter, and it appears to be lit up through there, too.
Despite the trauma of the evening, I take a moment to appreciate my surroundings. The walls are covered with small wooden drawers to waist height, and then shelves with glass doors to the ceiling. The shelves contain rows and rows of amber bottles with rubber droppers in the top. I wonder if I’ve discovered some sort of old-school pharmacy or something.
“Just a second,” a Scottish male voice calls back.
What luck! I have actually managed to find somewhere open AND with a native English speaker.
I take a closer look at the bottles and read a few of the labels. Aldehyde…Phenol…Muguet…I have no idea what any of those are.
“Oh, hi there. I was just closing up. Can I help you?”
I jump and turn to face the counter, where the man with the Scottish accent is waiting for me to acknowledge him. My heart rate picks up again. If I wasn’t so distressed, I might spend a moment admiring his model good looks. But right now I have more pressing matters to attend to.
“I, er, had my stuff stolen and then couldn’t pay my cab driver,” I say apologetically. I smooth down my hair and run my fingers under my bottom lashes in case I have black marks on my skin.
He frowns. “You poor thing. Here, come in and have a glass of water while we sort you out.”
I smile weakly. I’m starting to feel a bit better. It must be that warm Scottish accent.
He goes to the front door and flips the sign to closed (but thankfully doesn’t turn the lock) before ushering me through to the room behind the counter. There is a computer and phone in one corner, a small kitchenette in the other, and a comfy looking lounge and coffee table in the middle. A cheap dining table and chairs sit against the far wall.
“Sit down,” he urges me, pointing to the couch.
I obey, and watch as he finds a glass in the cupboard and fills it with water from a jug in the fridge. I’m hypnotised by his strong tanned arms, visible below the elbows where he’s casually rolled up the sleeves of his white suit shirt. He’s wearing khaki pants and his feet are bare.
He turns around and comes over to hand me the glass. He has gorgeous, wavy hair that is longish on top, but it doesn’t go past his ears. And he is really tall, maybe six foot five. I look up into his intense blue-green eyes.
“Th-thanks,” I say, taking the water and gulping it down. It then occurs to me I don’t even know his name.
“Alright, so first things first,” he says before I can ask. “If you had credit cards with you, then you’ll probably want to cancel them. Feel free to use the computer or phone to contact your bank.”
“Yes, good idea.” I shakily stand up and sit in front of the computer. I’m lucky I’ve memorised my internet banking login, so I’m able to go straight to the section on security and cancel my debit and credit cards.
“I suppose I should order new ones, but I don’t know how long they’ll take to be delivered,” I muse out loud.
“It probably depends on your bank, but I’d say it could be up to a week.”
“I’m supposed to check out of my hotel on Tuesday.”
“Could you get them sent to your next hotel?” he suggests.
“I don’t know. I think we’re only there for a couple of days, so I don’t want to risk missing the delivery. And my passport’s gone too, so I have no idea how I’m going to get home.”
“Damn those pickpockets. They don’t realise how much inconvenience they put people through just so they can make a few baht.”
“They wouldn’t steal my identity or anything, would they?” I ask, worried again.
“It’s possible. But you can go to the consulate when they open and report your passport missing.” He thinks for a second. “You might have to wait until Thursday though, because ever
ything will be closed for Songkran.”
“Is Songkran that water festival?” Mia had mentioned how excited she was about being in Thailand for it, but I hadn’t realised it was an actual public holiday.
“That’s right. It will be celebrated Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday.”
“Oh God.” I bury my face in my hands. “This is a disaster.”
“Is there anyone you can call to come and get you?”
“Not really. Unless my hotel is willing to help me out. My sister is with her friends somewhere, but her phone isn’t working properly.” It then occurs to me that my answer isn’t the smartest thing to reveal to a complete stranger in the middle of the night. Ah well. I’ve said it now.
“That’s a shame.”
“What am I going to do?”
He digs into his pocket and pulls out a couple of bills. “Here, this should be enough to get you back to your hotel.”
“I can’t accept that, but thank you anyway.”
“Don’t be silly. Unless you want me to drive you instead?”
“No, no. I’ve already been enough of an imposition on you. And I don’t even know your name.”
“It’s Daniel,” he says, his eyes crinkling as he smiles. “And you are?”
“Chloe. Beech.”
“And what brings you to Thailand?”
“I’m here with my sister for her twenty-first.”
“Great. Well, Chloe Beech, now that we’ve been introduced, will you accept my money so you can return to your hotel?”
“Uh, maybe I should just call the hotel and see if they can send someone to pick me up.”
“I’m sure they will, but they’ll whack a hefty charge on your bill when you check out. Come on, just take the money. It’s nothing.”
“OK. But give me your card so I can repay you.”
He lifts his chin towards a small pile of business cards beside the computer. “You can have my card, but you don’t have to pay me back.”
I pick one of them up and look at it. It’s black with gold writing on it.
“You’re a perfumer?”
“The shop didn’t give it away?” he asks, eyes twinkling.
“No, but I mean, you actually make it? You don’t just order it in ready-made and sell it?”
“That’s right. All those bottles out there are compounds. The shop is for customers to make their own fragrance. The lab,” he points to another door nearby, “is where I keep all the raw materials and where I do most of my commercial work.”
“Are you saying I could make my own perfume?”
“You could. But it might be better if you came back during business hours when I have more time to assist you.”
“Oh, of course. I didn’t mean now,” I say, embarrassed.
“But if you were really keen…” he trails off, teasing.
“Ha. No. I feel like I’ve already pushed the limits of your hospitality enough.”
“Don’t worry, you haven’t. Besides, it’s not often that a pretty Australian girl wanders into my shop in the middle of the night.”
I blush again.
“Thank you, but I should be getting back to the hotel. I’ll just finish up on the computer and then I’ll be on my way.”
“If you need an address in Thailand for your cards, you could use here and then I can email you when they arrive. Of course, I completely understand if you’re not comfortable with that idea.”
“Oh, that’s lovely. Um, I might just cancel them for now. I’m going to be with my sister mostly, so I’ll see if she’s able to lend me some money.”
“Well, the offer stands if you change your mind.”
“You’ve been very kind. I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been here. Do you normally stay open this late?”
“Not often, no. I was working on some samples for a client and they need to go out by tomorrow afternoon.”
“Ah. Well, I guess that was lucky for me, then.”
“That it was.”
“Hey, do you mind if I use your stapler?” I pick it up from beside the computer.
He looks at me curiously. “Be my guest.”
I clip a whole line of staples along the bottom of my handbag and then drop the business card and money into it.
He chuckles. “I like your style.”
I spend another couple of minutes sorting out my banking and contacting my phone company to put a hold on my sim card while Daniel finishes tidying up the shop. I also look up if it’s possible to cancel my passport online, but it’s a slightly involved process, so I figure I’ll do it in the morning when I have more time.
I log off and stand up. “OK, I should go now. I don’t want to keep you from your family. It’s already quite late.”
“It’s fine. No one’s waiting up for me.”
I wonder if that means his girlfriend or wife would already be asleep, or if he doesn’t actually have one. Wait. Why does that even matter?
“Either way, I don’t want to waste any more of your time. I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me tonight.”
“It’s no trouble. Come on. I’ll hail you a cab.”
He slides on a pair of canvas shoes and I follow him out to the street. I feel all jittery.
But I’m sure it’s only because of the stress of the evening.
Nothing more.
FIVE
A tuk-tuk comes along a few minutes later. Daniel asks for the name of my hotel and instructs the driver in Thai where to take me. Then he stands back and makes a sweeping motion with his hand, ushering me into the cab.
“I hope you manage to get some sleep after this. You might want to report your theft to the police, so just ask reception what to do when you arrive.”
“I will. And I cannot thank you enough for helping me tonight. If I hadn’t met you, I’d probably still be wandering around the back streets of Bangkok.”
“It was my pleasure.” He gives me a little wave and then walks backwards to the perfumery’s door, watching me the whole time. “See you later, Chloe Beech.”
I grin and wave back. Once he’s out of view, I notice my hands are shaking.
What just happened?
Probably best not to think about it too much.
Twenty minutes later, I finally get back to the hotel. After asking one of the men at reception to help me lodge a police report, I wearily head up to my room. They had to re-issue me with another key, because the first one fell out of my purse with the rest of my stuff. The staff assured me that they’d try to catch Mia on her way through and re-code hers too, so she’ll be able to let herself in when she returns later.
I flop down onto the bed and finally give myself permission to switch off.
Except I can’t. I worry that Mia is wondering where I am. (Although, if she looks at her phone, she’ll see my Facebook message.) I worry whether Mia is safe. I mean, if something could happen to me, something could easily happen to her. I also worry that my passport is being used for terrorist-related purposes and I’ll be put on a watch-list for the rest of my life. But most of all, I worry about how comfortable I felt with a complete stranger just now.
Damn it! I’m not going to be able to fall asleep with my mind swirling around like this.
I strip off my clothes and jump in the shower, leaving the water on cold to wash the humidity off me. I suspect this trip will involve many visits to the pool, and many cool showers.
When I get out, I see my bag lying on the bed and take out the business card.
Daniel Richards – Perfumer
There is a picture of an orchid on the card, but no brand name or logo. The only other details listed are an address and what I think is a mobile phone number. There’s not even an email or web address.
I put on my nightdress and lie down again. I drift off, trying to picture what Aaron might be doing right now in the Middle East, but he keeps morphing into Daniel.
I think I must be delirious.
***
&nb
sp; I’m woken up by sunlight peeping in through the curtains. I look around and notice I’m still alone. I start to feel the stirrings of a panic attack, again wondering if my sister may have gotten into trouble last night, but then rationalise that she probably just stayed out really late and crashed at the backpacker resort with her friends. She has been known to do stuff like that in the past. I won’t freak out too much until after lunch. But I do quickly check Facebook from my laptop to see if she’s replied to my message. She hasn’t.
The alarm clock says it’s already 9am. I had a really good sleep considering the events that led to me passing out, but then I did only have a two hour nap in the twenty-four hours prior to that. And I’m not hungover today, which is always a bonus.
After dressing, I head down to the hotel restaurant, where they have the most amazing buffet breakfast I have ever seen. Dozens of shiny silver serving trays await me, piled high with a combination of Western and Asian food. Pastries and cereals line the side wall, while rice, vegetables and meat are set up on a long table in the middle. As I cruise along with a plate in my hand, I stop to watch a chef create what looks like the world’s most mouth-watering omelettes. I line up and wait my turn, asking the chef to make me one with ham, cheese, mushrooms and spinach.
Mia advised me yesterday that breakfast was included in our room rate, and joked that we could just fill up in the morning and not need to spend any other money on food during our stay in Bangkok. Considering my current circumstances, I’m quite glad she pointed that out.
I sit down with my omelette, some pancakes and a small bowl of Asian vegetable stir-fry. My first task this morning is to sort out my money situation. I’ve been thinking that I probably won’t be able to rely on Mia for much, seeing as she barely has enough cash to support herself, and her credit card already has a horrifyingly large debt on it.
I can’t phone our mother, because she doesn’t have any money either.
I hate to even consider it, but I think I’m going to have to phone Keith and ask him to wire me a salary advance. If it wasn’t a Sunday, I might be able to get away with phoning one of the girls I work with and ask them to deal with Keith for me, but I don’t know any of their personal numbers off the top of my head. It’s a sad state of affairs when one of the only phone numbers I have stored in my brain is my boss’s.
Perfume Therapy Page 4