Coconuts and Wonderbras (26 page)

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 removes 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.

    ‘Hold on tight, I’m going to have to speed up,’ I shout.

I feel her squeeze my waist.

    ‘And whatever you do, don’t take your eyes off the van.’

    ‘
Copy that
,’ she squeals back.

    ‘Bogie at three o’clock,’ she squeals again.

    ‘What, where?’ I scream, swerving across the road.

    ‘Not really dear, I’ve always wanted to say that and this seemed the perfect time. This is so exciting.’

I’m beginning to think my mother has been with my father too long. I feel my phone vibrating in my dress pocket and hesitantly remove one hand from the handlebars to retrieve it.

    ‘Oh God, what are you doing?’ she screams.

I lean behind and hand her the vibrating phone. I haven’t considered what I am to do when the van stops. I follow it down a narrow track.

    ‘I’ll have to call you back Jamie, dear, we’re in the middle of a mission and closing in on the enemy right now,’ mother shouts into the phone.

My bum bangs up and down on the seat as we trundle along the track.

    ‘Oh dear, I think my uterus ring just got dislodged,’ groans mother.

I tactfully ignore her. We pass a group of water buffalo and race through a tiny village. I am beginning to feel confident on the bike and relax my neck muscles. The van slows and then stops. I skid into a clearing and almost hit a herd of water buffalo. The buffalo sit calmly studying us. Perspiration runs down my face and mother pulls several tissues from her Cath Kidston bag along with lip salve. She really is becoming a must-have accessory on an adventure trail. I am actually quite surprised she doesn’t pull a gun from the bag. I look at the house ahead of us.

    ‘Phone Jamie and give him the van registration. Jonathan may be able to do a trace,’ I say, sounding like Jack Bauer on his way to CTU.

I think how proud Alex would be of me if he was talking to me of course. I turn to see the tuk-tuk pull up sharply and practically throw Issy out of it.

    ‘Where is he?’ she asks looking all flushed. It is stiflingly hot now.

    ‘My Blueberry isn’t working,’ sighs mother.

I grab her phone and see there is no signal. Damn it.

    ‘Come on, let’s move,’ I say like a battlefield commander.

We creep slowly through the bushes towards the old dilapidated house on stilts.

    ‘That must be where they are holding him,’ I gasp.

I feel so unattractive and am convinced Alex will think so too when he sees me. What was I thinking of wearing black today? I look like I am in mourning. What if he is still angry with me? Oh dear, maybe I really shouldn’t be doing this. Toby, after all, has come all this way to be with me and all I have done so far is upset him too. I feel an overwhelming urge to cry and quickly pull myself together.

    ‘Fenella is right, we should have weapons,’ says Issy sitting on a log and fanning herself. I sit beside her and gently kick the coconuts beneath my feet. Mother suddenly jigs about excitedly in front of us.

    ‘Coconuts,’ she hisses, pointing at the ground, ‘you are sitting under a coconut tree. They are so big and perfect for throwing at the enemy.’

Good heavens, she is quite right. I pick up two coconuts. Issy and mother do the same. It is very humid and my hair is sticking to my neck. I pull a scrunch from my bag and pull it back into a messy ponytail. Issy is looking horrified down at her feet.

    ‘Shit and bollocks,’ she cries loudly. ‘Things are running over my feet, bugger, what the hell are they?’

We all look down, terrified at what we may see.

    ‘There are bloody ants everywhere,’ she yelps.

I look down to my feet and let out a little scream when I see hundreds of them crawling across my toes. It looks like one big black mass.

    ‘This is when we need a gun,’ repeats mother.

I look at her with raised eyebrows.

    ‘Christ, they bite too,’ yelps Issy, jumping up and down, resembling someone performing a war dance. It isn’t long before I join her.

I can’t help wondering if Alex Bryant is worth all this. Pulling a dancing and jiggling Issy behind me I continue walking down the bumpy dirt track as quickly as I can, shaking my feet as I go. There is silence all around us and not another soul to be seen. Issy clasps my hand so tightly that it starts to throb. Mother holds her coconuts to her chest like a body shield.

    ‘What if they are poisonous?’ Issy asks, voicing my own thoughts.

    ‘I’m sure they’re not,’ I say, not feeling the least bit sure.

What if there are snakes here? Or God forbid, scorpions? There could be anything crawling around here and we wouldn’t even know.

    ‘Oh God, I just saw a lizard. Oh dear, oh dear,’ mother shrieks. I kick out my foot but I’m not altogether sure why.

    ‘Keep walking,’ I order. I find myself wishing I was home in my little cottage in England, with the heating on full and surrounded by cake tins.

    ‘What the hell are we doing?’ shrieks Issy. ‘Have we gone bloody mad?’

All that can be heard is a dog barking and Issy’s rapid breathing. I feel like my breathing has stopped altogether. I wish I had a glass of that palm-sap wine, or two come to that. Instead of feeling hot I am actually quite shivery. I’m not going down with malaria or something, am I? What if I have caught something from those bloody ants? That’s about right. I will save Alex, get him to somewhere safe, all the while sweating like a water buffalo and then, when we are safe, I shall collapse in the manner of Santine, out of Moulin Rouge, and dramatically die. Issy will be distraught but Alex will be inconsolable. They will arrange a beautiful funeral in the manner of Princess Diana. It will be in Cambodian style because Alex will say how much I loved the country and he will demand I am buried wearing the earrings he bought me and…

    ‘Libs, what do we do now?’ hisses Issy, breaking into my daydream. Her voice is shaky. I look down to our feet to see they are bright red.

I am plunged into the depths of danger again and my malaria is immediately forgotten when I realise we are very close to the house. Standing outside are two burly Cambodians, which we Three Musketeers are no match for. I freeze. What if they have guns? I hadn’t thought about this before. Would Alex want me to risk being shot? I don’t mind being a heroine and all that but not if it is too dangerous. Let’s face it, one can’t enjoy the accolade if they are dead, now can they?

    ‘Libs, Libs, do we throw now,’ says Issy attempting to stay calm, but her high-pitched voice gives her away.

    ‘Yes, do we throw now?’ echoes mother.

I turn and look behind wishing there was someone I could ask.

    ‘Attack when you see the whites of their eyes,’ I whisper, not knowing what the hell I am talking about but I read that somewhere.

    ‘The whites of their eyes, Libs are you crazy?’ whispers Issy.

    ‘No, but I
am
in agony. My feet are itching like mad. At twenty-five yards, volley fire, present, aim fire!’ I shout.

    ‘Bloody hell, Libs, you’re not Michael Caine and they are not sodding Zulus. We’re in Asia not bloody Africa.’

    ‘All the same it is jolly good fun isn’t it? Your father will be livid to know he missed this,’ giggles mother.

    ‘Fire,’ I shout and she immediately tosses her coconut and I follow suit with mine. We watch as they fly through the air like javelins, hitting the windows and doors of the house. The men scuttle like mad and start running towards us. Issy throws a coconut towards them knocking one man sideways.

    ‘Good shot, Issy,’ I yell excitedly and she punches the air in her excitement.

Suddenly, everything is bedlam. The other man races towards us shouting something that we don’t understand. In my fear I lob another coconut which lands on his head knocking him to the ground.

    ‘Is he okay?’ I ask worriedly.

He is so still. I wish he would twitch or something. There is silence now and I wonder where the other two men are.

    ‘I haven’t a clue,’ responds mother blankly.

    ‘Do you think he needs CPR?’ I ask, flexing my neck.

    ‘Well, it wouldn’t do any harm I suppose. Do you have some?’

    ‘Have some what?’

    ‘What you just said.’

    ‘It’s a manoeuvre, not a drug,’ I snap.

    ‘Oh God, what are we going to do?’ asks Issy breathlessly.