Chapter 26
‘My temper I dare not vouch for.’
For the next couple of days we swam, sunbathed, wined, dined, and made love. It was a honeymoon in paradise, or at least it was beginning to resemble one.
‘Got to go into town, honey. Back later,’ Chase said breezily before breakfast on the third morning.
He was gone again before I had a chance to ask where exactly he was headed.
I ate alone on the balcony, the sea below, stretching to a distant horizon.
I decided I’d go into town too. Do some shopping, maybe pick up something for Alice.
And who knew, Phuket was small enough that I might stumble across Chase and we could have an early lunch together.
Something spontaneous. Something romantic.
That’s what honeymoons were for, weren’t they?
Town was busy. Tourists in floppy hats bartered for lacquered bowls and elephant carvings.
I ducked into a tiny silk shop and picked out a length of pale blue silk, soft and luminous, the kind of colour that made you feel calm just looking at it.
I thought I’d have it made into something for the house.
A cushion maybe. Something that said this space was mine too.
Back out in the bright sun, I meandered towards a jewellery stall and was flicking through rows of silver earrings when I saw him, Chase, turning into a doorway across the street.
‘Chase!’ I called.
But my voice was swallowed by the putter of a passing tuk-tuk. By the time I looked up again, he was gone.
I crossed quickly and stepped inside the building after him. The tiled foyer was cool and dim, and a flickering neon arrow pointed up a narrow flight of stairs. Without hesitating, I climbed.
At the top was a door. I opened it and stepped into a room that seemed to hang between worlds, part waiting area, part showroom, with a large pane of glass dividing it down the middle.
On my side stood a small, severe Thai woman with deep lines etched across her face and her arms folded across her chest. On the other side stood a row of girls, not much older than teenagers, wearing nothing but half-slip petticoats pulled awkwardly over their small chests.
‘You want massage?’ the woman asked, flatly.
‘No. My husband is in here.’ My voice cracked as I said it. My heart was thudding. ‘My husband. Where is he?’
She shook her head. ‘Not here.’
‘I saw him come in.’ I could hear myself shouting now, but I couldn’t stop. My fists had balled at my sides, the bile rising. ‘Chase! Where are you?’
A man appeared then. Burly, squat, sleeveless T-shirt stretched tight across his belly. He came through a hidden side door, and without saying anything, grabbed my elbow.
‘You leave. Not place for you.’
‘Get off me!’ I snapped, wrenching my arm free. But I didn’t move.
Behind the glass, the girls just stared.
‘Where is my husband?’ I asked again, quieter this time, each word a jab.
‘Not here,’ he said again, pointing to the door.
When I didn’t budge, he grabbed me once more and dragged me towards the stairs.
‘Let go! I’m going to call the police!’
He stopped. Shrugged. ‘Police do nothing. You nice lady. Go back to your hotel and wait for your husband.’
I stood still for a second, stunned. And then I did exactly that.
I turned and walked blindly down the stairs, out into the stifling sun.
My head was swimming. The sounds of the street felt too loud, sharp, everything coming at me in fast cuts, those girls their bare shoulders, Chase in some backroom with one of them.
I was stuffing clothes into my suitcase when he returned.
‘Hey, honey, let’s go get lunch,’ he said, sunglasses perched casually on top of his head like nothing had happened.
‘Don’t “hey honey” me,’ I spat, spinning to face him. ‘I followed you. I saw the place. You bastard.’
He blinked. ‘It’s a massage place. They’re all like that here,’ he said, with the same shrug he used when explaining delayed flights or parking tickets.
‘And?’
‘And what? I picked a girl, she kept her clothes on, gave me a massage. That’s it.’
‘It didn’t look like that to me!’
He stepped forward. I backed away, my hands coming up.
‘Honey, Florence, stop it. I didn’t do anything. I didn’t. You are my wife. I love you.’ His voice had softened, his face all wounded sincerity. ‘I promise on my grandmother’s grave. It was just a massage.’
I stared at him, unsure whether to scream or cry or laugh. My mind was racing, but my body refused to move.
‘I love you, honey,’ he said again, as if saying it out loud might fix things. ‘And I got you something.’ He reached into his pocket and pulled out a little silk pouch. From it he drew a long string of pearls with a delicate gold clasp. He held it up. ‘For you, my English rose.’
I let him place it around my neck. The pearls felt cool against my collarbone, and oddly heavy. Maybe I was overreacting. Maybe it really was just a massage. That’s just the way they do it in Thailand, I told myself.
Chase smiled, triumphant. ‘Come on. Let’s have a great lunch. Then we’ll chill and do the whole honeymoon thing properly. I’m sorry I upset you. Nothing happened. I promise.’
I nodded. The pearls were still cool against my skin. I wasn’t sure I believed him. But I smiled.