somewhat in the heat, but us on the other hand –’ Samantha waved a finger between herself and Lizzie, and smiled ‘– look as if we’ve been swimming. My hair is dripping.’
‘Thanks for the compliment, Sam.’ Lizzie laughed, grateful, for once, for her cropped hair, as the excitement of their trip wound its way back through her. ‘Hopefully we’ll acclimatise tomorrow.’
Against the protests from Samantha and Jaddi, Lizzie had insisted that they walk the fifteen minutes to their hostel. She’d needed to absorb something that wasn’t white tiles, toilets, taxis, or hospital rooms. And seeing Bangkok, alive with lights and people in the early evening was exactly what she’d had in mind.
The oppressive humidity had hit them the moment they’d stepped out of the hospital, as if they’d walked fully clothed, backpacks on, into a sauna, the dense air and sweat soaking them in minutes. The humidity had been a shock, but it was nothing compared to the city streets. Four lanes of cars, buses and motorbikes crawled in both directions, the gritty petrol smell of exhaust fumes adding to the stifling air. Noise bombarded them from every direction: the hum of the engines; the clattering of the old buses; the pip pop of the motorbikes; music blaring from radios; car horns; people shouting; shop owners heckling. And yet, through the noise, the throbbing of her headache lessened with every step.
‘Er, hello?’ Jaddi laughed. ‘My hair has quadrupled in size.’ Jaddi lifted a lock of hair up and frowned.
‘That’s true.’ Samantha grinned. ‘Shame the camera’s not on to film it.’ Samantha shot a glance back towards Ben, walking a pace behind them.
When they’d cut down a side road, Ben’s camera had gained him an entourage of young teenage boys, appearing from nowhere, keen to learn what he was doing in their broken English, keener still to touch the lens and try to hold the camera. Ben had been forced to stow the camera away in his bag, something Samantha had delighted in.
‘Hey look, there’s a street market,’ Jaddi said, pointing into a narrow street crammed with stalls and colourful merchandise stretching for as far as they could see and lit by startling neon lights. ‘Wow, it looks amazing! We have to come back tomorrow for a look around.’
‘Why wait?’ Lizzie grinned, already moving towards the crowds and stepping into the street, her eyes feasting on the vast colours and quantity of items now surrounding them. The energy of the city was seeping through her skin and igniting inside her. She sensed Jaddi and Samantha beside her, absorbing the buzzing market that seemed to be enticing them into its depths. The air simmered with whiffs of spices and meats that made Lizzie’s stomach gurgle.
‘Are you sure you’re up for this?’ Samantha touched Lizzie’s arm.
Lizzie glanced back at Ben.
He heaved the strap of his camera bag further onto his shoulder – so that it rested on the cushioned strap of his rucksack – and scowled.
Lizzie nodded, her smile widening. ‘Absolutely. Come on.’ All at once she felt like any other traveller. No one knew her history or her future. She had her best friends and she had the world to explore. ‘We can grab something to eat too. I’m starving.’
‘I don’t need to be told twice,’ Jaddi said. ‘Look at all these clothes. I’m in heaven.’
As they moved further into the market and the crowds, Samantha dove towards a table crammed with sunglasses and bags.
‘Oooo,’ Samantha squealed. ‘I want them all. Look at that red one.’ She pointed to a large, dark-red holdall. ‘Tell me that isn’t exactly the same as the Michael Kors I’ve had my eye on for the last year.’
‘You might have to wait.’ Lizzie tugged Samantha’s arm and glanced at the unfamiliar bodies budging at their sides and trying to get closer to the stall. ‘We’ve lost Jaddi already.’
Samantha turned and surveyed the street. ‘No, look –’ she pointed ahead ‘– there she is.’
Lizzie stood on her tiptoes and watched Jaddi dash in zigzags between the stalls.
‘Come on.’ Lizzie laughed. ‘We’d better grab her.’
‘Good point,’ Samantha said. ‘That girl can burn through spending money as quickly as you burn through a pack of jaffa cakes.’
‘Oi!’ Lizzie grinned, following behind as Samantha weaved through the jostling crowd. ‘You know as well as I do that you can never have just two jaffa cakes.’
‘Two? Surely you mean a packet?’
Lizzie laughed as they rushed to catch up with Jaddi.
An hour later, they stepped out of the market and onto a quiet street lined with scooters and motorbikes.
‘Can you believe this place?’ Lizzie said, her words lost amidst the heckles from the stall owners.
‘Where you from?’ a man called to them from a doorway which led through to a shop filled with more clothes.
‘I’m beginning to think,’ Samantha said, turning back to stare at the market, ‘that, “Where you from?” roughly translates as, “What currency should I try to sell you things in?”’
Lizzie grinned and followed Samantha’s gaze to Ben, camera on his shoulder, pushing through a group of women gesticulating widely over a reel of fabric. She hadn’t realised he’d been in the market or filming them. Despite the heat and the sweat cloaking her body she still felt the rush of blood to her cheeks as the lens followed her movements.
‘I have no idea how I’m going to fit this stuff in my backpack,’ Jaddi said, grinning and lifting four bulging carrier bags – the thin kind with the handles already stretched and ready to snap.
‘I’ll help you,’ Samantha said, taking two of Jaddi’s bags for her. ‘I bet you haven’t even Swiss rolled your clothes in your backpack.’
‘Swiss rolled? What are you on about?’
Sam shook her head and smiled. ‘I’ll show you later.’
‘I’m just glad we’ve eaten,’ Lizzie said. ‘That noodle dish was lush, I want to eat it every day.’
‘I bet you won’t be saying that by the end of a whole month in Southeast Asia,’ Jaddi said.
A sudden silence fell over them. Jaddi’s comment hung in the air. A whole month. One month. One third of their trip. Would it be enough? Lizzie wondered, dropping a few paces behind Samantha and Jaddi as they traipsed in the direction of their hostel. Only then did she notice the weight of her backpack on her back and the pain of the straps digging into her shoulders.
‘Here,’ Ben said, zipping his camera back into its case and falling into step beside Lizzie, ‘I got you this—’ He pulled a black watch out of his pocket. ‘It’s not very pretty, but it works.’
‘You got me a watch? Why?’ she asked, turning the square plastic object over in her hands and pressing a tiny black button on one side.
In one swift movement Ben snatched the watch out of her hands. ‘Don’t press that,’ he snapped.
‘Oh.’ Lizzie shrugged. ‘Look, thanks and all that, but I’m not really a watch person.’ She shook her head and picked up her pace. On the bathroom floor at the airport, and again in the hospital, she’d thought she’d glimpsed another side to the cameraman. One that wasn’t quite so rude and obnoxious. But clearly she’d been wrong. Why buy her a crappy plastic watch only to snatch it back again?
‘Just wear it, please.’ Ben frowned, handing her the watch again. ‘I’ve set the alarm for eight in the morning and eight at night. Every twelve hours. So you know when to take your medication.’
‘You think I’d forget again? Thanks for the vote of confidence.’ She shoved the watch into her pocket and dropped her eyes to the pavement. The brief feeling of normal she’d felt in the market disappeared.