‘Coffee would be great,’ I said, and he spoke in Thai to the maid as we passed her. We were approaching a number of white pavilions set around a courtyard, each topped by traditional Thai lanna-style V-shaped roofs. In the centre of the courtyard was a pond filled with pink flowers floating on the water. In the middle of it sat a black onyx Buddha. The whole scene reminded me of one of those exotic spas they were always advertising in magazines. I followed the Werewolf up some wooden steps to the side of one of the pavilions, and found myself on a shady roof terrace which gave the most magnificent view of Phra Nang Beach beyond it.
‘Wow,’ was all I could think of to say. ‘This is . . . awesome. I’ve been on this beach loads of times, and never even noticed this place was here.’
‘Good,’ he said as he indicated I should sit down on one of the enormous sofas. I eased my rucksack off my shoulders and did so tentatively, worried I might mark the immaculate silk covers. It was the most comfortable thing I’d sat on since I’d arrived in Thailand and I just wanted to lie back on the cushions and fall asleep.
‘You live here?’ I asked.
‘Yes, for now anyway. It’s not mine, it’s a friend’s place,’ he said as the maid arrived up the steps with a tray of coffee and a selection of pastries laid out in a little basket. ‘Help yourself.’
‘Thanks.’ I poured myself a cup of coffee, then added two peat-brown sugar lumps.
‘Can I ask why you were being escorted by the security guards from the beach?’
‘I was sheltering from the storm in the Cave of the Princess. I . . . must have fallen asleep while I was waiting for it to stop.’ Pride prevented me from telling him the truth.
‘It was quite some storm,’ he said. ‘I like it when nature takes over, shows you who’s boss.’
‘So.’ I cleared my throat. ‘What do you do here?’
‘Oh . . .’ He took a sip of his black coffee. ‘Not a lot. I’m just taking some time out, you know?’
‘Great place to do it.’
‘You?’
‘Same.’ I reached for one of the buttery croissants. The smell reminded me so much of Claudia’s breakfasts at Atlantis, I almost forgot where I was.
‘What did you do before?’
‘I was at art college in London. It didn’t work out, so I left.’
‘Right. I live in London too . . . or at least, I did. On the river in Battersea.’
I looked at him in shock, wondering whether this whole episode was some kind of surreal dream and I was actually still asleep behind the scarlet phallus.
‘I live there too! In Battersea View – the new apartments that have just been built near Albert Bridge.’
‘I know exactly where you mean. Well, hello, neighbour.’ The Werewolf gave me his first genuine smile as he high-fived me. It lit up his weird blue eyes so he no longer looked like a werewolf, but more like a very skinny Tarzan.
I poured myself another cup of coffee and sat further back on the sofa so that only my feet dangled over the edge. I wished I didn’t have my boots on, then I could curl them beneath me and try to look as elegant as the surroundings decreed.
‘What a coincidence . . .’ He shook his head. ‘Someone told me once that in any country on earth, there’s only six degrees of separation between us and someone we know.’
‘I don’t know you,’ I pointed out.
‘You don’t?’ He eyed me for a few seconds, his expression suddenly serious.
‘Nope, should I?’
‘Er, no, I just wondered if maybe we’d bumped into each other on Albert Bridge or something,’ he mumbled.
‘Maybe. I used to cross it every day to walk to college.’
‘I was on my bike.’
‘Then I wouldn’t have recognised you if you were all done up in Lycra and a helmet.’
‘True.’
We both drained our coffees in awkward silence.
‘Are you going back there soon? Like, after New Year or something?’ I asked him eventually.
The Werewolf’s face darkened. ‘I don’t know. Depends on what happens . . . I’m trying to live for today. You?’
‘Same, though I’m meant to be going on to Australia.’
‘Been there, done that. Mind you, I was working and it’s never the same. All you get to see is the inside of hotels and offices, and a load of expensive restaurants. Corporate hospitality, you know?’
I didn’t, but I nodded my head in agreement anyway.
‘I had thought about going there,’ he continued. ‘You know when you just want to get as far away as you can . . . ?’
‘I do,’ I said with feeling.
‘You don’t sound English, though. Is that a French accent I can hear?’
‘Yes. I was born . . . well, I don’t actually know where I was born ’cos I’m adopted, but I was brought up in Geneva.’
‘Another place I’ve visited and only seen the airport on my way to a ski trip. Do you ski? I mean, stupid question if you live in Switzerland.’
‘Yes. I love it, but I’m not so keen on the cold, you know?’
‘I do.’
There was another lull in the conversation, which, given the fact I’d already drunk two large cups of coffee, I couldn’t fill with another one.
‘How come you speak Thai?’ I managed after a bit.
‘Thai mother. I was brought up in Bangkok.’
‘Oh. Does she still live there?’
‘No, she died when I was twelve. She was . . . wonderful. I still miss her.’
‘Oh, sorry,’ I said quickly, before ploughing on. ‘How about your dad?’
‘Never met him,’ he replied abruptly. ‘What about you, have you met your birth parents?’
‘No.’ I had no idea how we’d wandered into such an intimate conversation in the space of twenty minutes. ‘Listen, I should be going. I’ve put you to enough trouble already.’ I heaved myself forwards until my feet touched the ground.
‘So, where are you staying now?’
‘Oh,’ I said airily, ‘some hotel on the beach, but, as you know, I prefer sleeping outside.’
‘I thought you said your rucksack had a room. Why have you got it with you?’
I immediately felt like a child who’d been caught hiding sweets under the bed. What did it matter if he knew?
‘Because there . . . was a mix-up with my room. I borrowed it and then the . . . person who lived in it fell out with his girlfriend and wanted it back. And everywhere else was full. That’s why I headed for the cave when it started to rain.’
‘Right.’ He studied me. ‘Why didn’t you tell me that in the first place?’
‘I dunno,’ I said, looking at my feet like a five-year-old would. ‘I’m not . . . desperate or anything. I can take care of myself – there just wasn’t a room available, okay?’
‘No need to be so embarrassed, I understand completely.’
‘I just thought you might think I was a vagrant or something. And I’m not.’
‘I never thought that, promise. By the way, what’s all that yellow stuff in your hair?’
‘Christ!’ I ran my hand through my hair and found that the ends were matted together. ‘It’s mango. My mate Jack asked me to take care of the bar at the Railay Beach Hotel yesterday afternoon, and there was a run on fruit shakes.’
‘I see.’ He tried to keep a straight face but couldn’t manage it. ‘Well, could I at least offer you a shower? And beyond that, a bed for a few nights, until things have calmed down on the beach? The water’s piping hot,’ he added.
Now, that really tempted me. The thought of hot water and knowing I looked and smelt disgusting won out over pride. ‘Yes please.’
He led me back downstairs and we crossed the courtyard to another pavilion, on the right of the quadrangle. There was a key in the lock and he turned it, then handed it to me.
‘It’s all prepared. It always is. Take your time, there’s no rush.’