Forgotten: a truly gripping psychological thriller (13 page)

She saw a long bench covered in saucers and bowls. Each one contained food or drink. There were at least a dozen kinds of fruit, most of which she didn’t recognise, biscuits, crisps and shallow dishes of milk and water.

‘What’s it for?’

Mark shrugged. ‘Offerings for the Buddha.’ He took out his wallet, selected a note and placed it between two cups of water. ‘Maybe he’ll protect us as well.’

‘From what?’

‘Who knows?’ he said with an odd smile. ‘There are a thousand temptations in Thailand; best to buy some insurance.’

Kai explored the temple further but found nothing as impressive as the golden Buddha. Most of the walls were bare and the carpet was worn and dusty. It was as though all the care of the worshipers was devoted to the figure at the back of the temple and everything else was transient, unimportant. Fatigue made her drag her feet and she realised that she needed to sit down, badly.

‘Can we get out of here?’ she asked, catching up with Mark near the door.

He studied her with concern. ‘Tired?’

‘A bit. I need to sit down. Is it okay to sit on the steps?

‘Should be,’ he said and, taking her arm, he led her gently outside. They sat in silence for a while until Kai confessed her exhaustion.

‘Better get you back then,’ Mark said brightly, standing up. There was no indication of disappointment in his tone. He held out his hand and she took it to pull herself up, stumbling slightly on the worn stone of the step.

‘We could take a taxi,’ Mark suggested.

Kai shook her head. ‘I’d rather walk, just slowly. Okay?’

‘Fine by me,’ he grinned. ‘Why don’t you take my arm while we walk. It might help.’ He placed one hand in the pocket of his trousers and raised his eyebrows in encouragement.

Hesitantly, Kai linked her arm through his and allowed him to lead her back through the gate but the contact felt awkward and forced and she was grateful when a car barrelled down the narrow alley, forcing them apart. Mark didn’t comment on the fact that she walked the rest of the way on her own, unsupported.

October 28th – Dali

I’m amazed that this is the most populous nation on earth. I feel like I’m living in a small village. Ever since I left Xiahe the western faces I’ve seen have been familiar and I got another shock today. I was posting a few cards home when I heard someone close by my ear say, ‘Hello, don’t I know you from somewhere?’ It was Josie. I hadn’t seen her since Xiahe, which in itself was quite surprising – I’d seen so many other people that I’d bumped into a couple of times over the last few weeks, especially in that awful bar in Chengdu. I was so surprised that I nearly hugged her, something in my subconscious telling me that such a familiar face must be a friend from home. Then it dawned on me and I pulled myself back, embarrassed by my sudden rush of misplaced emotion.

‘Where have you been?’ I asked. She’d told me that she was heading for Thailand at the end of October so I was a little surprised to find her deep in Yunnan province. She gave me a brief account of her journey – much the same as my own but the timing was different – then her reason for staying in China appeared. He was gorgeous. Over six feet of muscular, tanned Irishman. I could see why Thailand suddenly seemed less attractive to her – I’d have gone to Outer Mongolia for that!

We caught up over tea in the library park, joining the groups of old men playing cards enthusiastically. They were great to watch, just like big kids. At one point there was some sort of disagreement and it nearly came to blows. One old guy who looked about eighty squared up to his younger (about seventy-five), red-faced opponent. The whole park seemed to go silent for a minute and I could feel myself holding my breath. But it came to nothing. They smiled and dealt another hand. It’s one of the things I’ll miss about China. I’ve got used to the play-fighting and short-lived squabbles. Some of the men are just like big kids really. I certainly find them less threatening than I did a couple of weeks ago. Now I hardly even bother to look up from whatever I’m doing when I hear shouting. It’s odd how my reactions have changed. At first I know I must have looked like a frightened kitten or a whipped puppy every time I heard or saw people arguing. The reaction was instinctive. Now, if I feel like that, I get angry with myself. It’s funny, after all the times I felt really broken and lost I now feel like something inside me is stronger than all that, always was stronger. I’m proud of that feeling, proud of my strength, proud of my survival. Even writing this I can feel the anger. Perhaps that’s not too healthy a place to be, but it’s better than being bruised and battered.

Anyway, enough psychoanalysis (with the emphasis on the psycho!), Josie and the gorgeous Callum have booked a guide for tomorrow and they’re intending to walk in the mountains. I’d been hoping to do the same but my experience in Wutaishan put me off a bit, even with a guide, so I was delighted when they asked me along. I’m sure I’ll feel safe in a group and who knows, it might give me the confidence to try hiking on my own again.

The rest of my day was pretty uneventful in comparison. I looked over the photos on my memory cards and planned the next leg of my trip. I managed to find a guidebook to Vietnam so I’ve got a much better idea what to expect at the border. It sounds hellish – bag searches and lots of questions – I just know I’m going to look like a hardened criminal who requires a strip-search. I’ve e-mailed the next stage of my itinerary to Penny. I feel safer knowing that someone at home has a good idea where I am and where I’m heading and I know I can trust Penny. She’s the one who finally gave me clarity for God’s sake: there’s no way she’d let me down. I miss her sometimes. I know if things had been different, if we’d had more time to plan, she’d have come with me. There was no way she could leave her job in the middle of term though and I was kind of glad about that. Much as I love her I needed to do this on my own. My mental state was so fragile that I would have willingly become dependent on someone else and, reliable as Penny is, I need her as an equal, a sounding board, not a bloody mother.

So, that’s it, pizza for dinner and now I’m ready for an early night in preparation for my walk tomorrow.

Oh, I must describe this hotel. It’s the poshest place in town and has the acoustics of a swimming pool. The rooms are built around a central covered courtyard and, of course, the public areas are all tiled. I was woken at 3am this morning by the couple in the next room having extremely noisy sex. Don’t they know the country’s already over-populated? Now the man on the other side has his TV up very loud and he’s on the phone, having to shout. God, I hope Vietnam’s quieter than China! Sometimes the noise makes my brain ache.

October 29th – Dali

I’m so glad I accepted Josie’s invitation. It was wonderful to get out of town and breathe some real fresh air instead of car exhaust and cooking fumes.

We met our guide, whose name sounded like Alfie, outside one of the cafés on ‘Foreigners’ Street’. Apparently, he approached Callum two days ago, showed him lots of testimonials on the backs of postcards and Callum set this walk up.

We set off out of town heading for a chairlift that I’d read about but hadn’t been able to find by myself. It was pretty obvious why when we turned down the fourth alley and crossed a patch of waste ground. It was so well hidden. I was panting and sweaty when we got there but the other three didn’t seem to have felt the climb. I must be seriously unfit – too much sitting on buses and trains and not enough exercise. As we waited for the chairlift station to open I noticed huge spider webs, with ridiculously big inhabitants, hanging from telegraph wires and trees all around us. I’m not normally bothered by spiders but these were BIG. I asked our guide if they were poisonous.

‘Yes.’

‘Badly?’

‘Yes.’

‘Do they bite many people?’

‘Yes.’

His expression never changed and I couldn’t work out if he was taking the piss or not. From Callum’s snigger I realised which option he’d favoured.

The chairlift ride was great. I thought I was going to have to share with Alfie but he let me have a seat all to myself. We were heading away from the town so I had to keep craning round to see it diminishing in the distance but, unfortunately, every time I turned round there was one of those bloody spiders dangling from a tree about a foot from my face. I was glad I was on my own as my startled whimpers were getting a bit embarrassing.

Our first stop, at the top chairlift station, was a small temple nestling among the spider infested trees. It didn’t look very interesting and it was in bad need of some paint to freshen up its faded decoration but it had the most amazing view. I could see the whole town of Dali as it stretched across the flood plain towards Erhai lake, the road separating the town from the rice fields along the lakeshore and we could clearly make out columns of smoke rising lazily from the fields which had been recently harvested. Beyond the fields and the lake another stretch of mountains rises from nowhere. It was just like peering off a really high ledge, almost as though the temple was sticking out from the mountain, overhanging the plain below.

The path around the side of the mountain turned out to be paved with huge stone slabs – a bit of a disappointment – which stayed perfectly, geometrically laid as the trail snaked in and out of gullies, always level, always at the same height above the town. It was so quiet, even the birds seemed to be whisper-whistling and there was very little breeze to disturb the greenery around us.

After about half an hour Josie fell back and I found myself walking with Callum. We tried the usual pleasantries, ‘How long have you been here?’ ‘Where are you going next’ etc then the conversation took a more personal turn.

‘D’you have a fella waiting for you back home?’

I didn’t know how to respond and Callum took this for coyness.

‘It’s okay, you can tell me, I’m not on the pull, Josie would kill me.’

I took a deep breath and tried to be as honest as possible. ‘There was someone but it didn’t work out. It was time to go our separate ways.’ Even to me it sounded like a cliché.

Callum was kind, telling me that if I didn’t want to talk about it there was no pressure, but I found myself wanting to tell him something at least.

‘His name was David,’ I told him. ‘We lived together but he wanted to get married and he put a lot of pressure on me.’ Ha! Pressure. Christ what an understatement! I just shrugged and Callum let it drop. I got the feeling that he’d decided I was probably running away and to try and persuade him otherwise would only confirm his suspicions. I was surprised to find that I was ready to talk about some of it at least. Until today I’d mentioned David to no-one and I’d tried to stop myself from thinking about him at all. I’m not sure that’s healthy but it seemed to work for me for a time. Perhaps now I’m ready to face up to things and to put it all behind me instead of denying it ever happened.

Callum was a bit quiet after our brief conversation. He probably thought I had some serious problems hidden away but when we stopped for lunch at ‘Daughter’s Pond of Seven Dragons’ he was all smiles again and we had a relaxing break. There was a restaurant of sorts beside the path and Alfie offered us lunch but the mangy corpse of a chicken hanging from the guttering put me off and I decided to stick to the bread I’d bought in town. It was an odd lunch spot, just a hut and three canvas folding chairs which we immediately grabbed, leaving Alfie to sit on a wooden bench inside. We ate in silence, listening to the birds and the roar of the waterfalls behind us. The man running the ‘restaurant’ came out to offer us tea – he was wiping a glass on a filthy bit of cloth which matched his ragged vest – surprisingly, we all declined.

From the waterfalls the path became seriously vertiginous as we headed back out to the ‘front’ of the mountain. The gorges and ravines that the path followed were spectacular – sheer cliffs and odd-shaped rocks carved by thousands of years of rain and wind. On one side of us was a sheer drop and I found myself practically hugging the safety of the cliff on my right as we passed a particularly loose bit of path. It looked like the next big rain would wash it away completely, or the next passing tourist might just dislodge it! I didn’t fancy falling a couple of hundred feet so I trod very carefully.

We walked on to Qingbi Stream, rather disappointingly spoiled by a brand new cable car. There was a real sense of getting ready for the tourists – new steps being built and a blindingly white toilet block. The stream itself was beautiful – a narrow thread of waterfall falling into a turquoise pool – but it was a relief when Alfie led us down the hill, away from the new building.

The path down the mountain was, for me, the best part of the walk – no more slabs and no more steps, although the rocks were slippery at times. Every time I had the confidence to look up from the path the views were wonderful. We’d come some way south of Dali and now the plain was dotted with small villages all the way to the lake. The path led us to a large stream and then continued along the other bank but, unfortunately, there was no bridge. Callum carried Josie across fireman style while I watched, fascinated, as the muscles in his upper arms and shoulders tensed and hardened, wakening a responding quiver in my thigh muscles. Instead of feeling embarrassed I felt relieved, even excited that I could feel sexually attracted to someone again. After David I was ready to avoid men for life, travel the world and have no ties, and no sex! My attraction to Callum made me aware that this wasn’t a necessity, hell, it wasn’t even a probability judging by how horny I felt by the time he dropped Josie on the opposite bank and then came back for me. It was a genuine offer and he could have carried me easily but I just couldn’t allow myself to climb on to his back and trust him to hold me there. When I refused he shrugged but there was something knowing about his expression and I’m sure he was imagining all sorts of things about my relationship with David. Half of them were probably right. I took off my boots and waded across.

Alfie was a good guide, giving us lots of little bits of information. He told us that Dali Beer, which I’ve grown very fond of, is made from water from Qingbi Stream. He also told me that the grave-marker things I kept seeing in the fields and on the hills were, in fact, grave-markers. How clever am I?