Roachville

When I got home the neighbour’s earless white cat was crouching in its usual position in the garden, eyes half open like black holes on the side of its skull. The sense of familiarity induced by the odd-looking fur-ball didn’t last, though. As I reached the front door, I heard Mac’s voice and my shoulders dropped. Black curls poked from under his green woolly hat and he looked thinner than the last time I had seen him. Maybe he wasn’t sleeping well. My stomach caved in a little.

‘Since we don’t seem able to talk on the phone, I’ve come to pick up my things now.’

I shrugged. ‘Fine.’

He followed me through the door.

‘I don’t want to watch,’ I said, ‘so take what you want, aside from the stuff in the office and the bedroom. And can you leave the blue vase and the music system, which I believe belong to me.’

‘You don’t want to stay and make sure I don’t rob you?’ he asked in his most sarcastic falsetto.

‘Whatever…’ I answered, killing my emotions. ‘I’ll be out for a while.’

I walked to the car and sat behind the wheel. Roachville was such a featureless area, there was no point going for a walk through the endless rows of identical modern houses. So without any particular destination in mind, I drove off. Parked near my house was the minivan Mac had come in. So he intended to take a lot of stuff. Oh well, let him take, and release me, and meanwhile I could go and read the letter from Mei’s father.

The car headed west and took me to the other side of the motorway inside a strip of remaining countryside. The wheels glided on the dark tarmac. Luscious green fields went past and I turned right here and left there and ended up on top of a steep hill. There was a small church there, and nobody about. It seemed like a good place to stop. Through the old iron gate, and behind the church, I found a wooden bench overlooking the ancient tombstones with wide-open views beyond the fields going down to the Severn Estuary and Wales on the other side. I sat there and stared at the green and yellow patches, the brown water and blue sky.

I extracted the envelope from my handbag and unfolded a photocopy of seven pages of neat French handwriting. I scanned my surroundings, hoping that nobody would disturb me; birds and old bones could keep me company.

Dear Phuong,

If you are reading this letter, it means the foreigner has found us again and I have decided to face him.

I wrote down the events that took place during my last expedition with Gaspard as you must now learn the truth. I tried to tell you many times but the words always got stuck in my throat, as if the memory was too vivid to voice aloud. You know I have not been the same since I came back that time.

I want to recount everything as I saw it happening and I hope you will understand and forgive me for what I had to do. I know all this is my fault, I should have never told Gaspard about the naga, and now I have to pay the price for my own carelessness.

You remember Gaspard and I left one Friday morning from Chang Mai. Everything was as usual. I had packed a small rucksack the night before Gaspard’s arrival. I hadn’t seen him for a few months and he seemed in high spirits and in good health despite the fact that he had just turned 76. He didn’t seem to limp much and he joked about his eggshell bones not giving him too much trouble at the time. The taxi drove us to the bus station and we boarded the bus to Chiang Khong. You know this road almost as well as me: pretty scenery, dense jungle, black mountains and the sun setting at our backs. The bus wasn’t crowded and I slept most of the way.

Once in Chiang Khong, we made our way through the dark alleyways to the small guesthouse we always stayed at. A boy was waiting for us. Gaspard introduced him as Sommai; he had arrived with his family shortly earlier from Malaysia and had been recommended by Loy, our previous helper. I remember finding it odd that we weren’t employing someone local, but Gaspard assured me that he was very efficient and as Loy couldn’t speak French and his English had been poor, it was easier for Gaspard to communicate in English with Sommai, who had a good grasp of it. We went to the room Gaspard had rented in advance and I inspected the bags Sommai had put together. Everything seemed in order and we had enough food to last at least five days. Gaspard’s sketches and note pads, along with his surveying maps, were all there. As usual Gaspard had obtained the official stamps, which, if we were to meet some Lao officials along the way, should keep us out of trouble: at least in theory. We went out to a nearby market and had some hot food before retiring to our room for a few hours sleep.

At 4 am we left the guesthouse and walked to the river. All was dark and we followed Sommai who led the way. We got to our boat and unloaded the bags. Despite my early doubts and the fact that it was the first expedition for Sommai, everything was running smoothly, maybe even better than usual. The boy pushed the boat out and jumped in and I started to row at the front. Gaspard was sitting in the middle and we glided without a noise on the black water. Sommai got out some cold omelette and lowered the engine into the water.

A few hours later, the sun was rising and the air was warming up. We were going quite far into Laos this time and soon there would be big rocks sticking out of the fast river. Sommai seemed to be a good oarsman. I relaxed a bit more and watched the dark jungle and the brown water flow past. I couldn’t help but let my mind wander about our old life in Luang Prabang and, thinking of our lost families, I was seized by a feeling of such painful intensity that I withdrew inside myself and didn’t notice anything unusual. Not long after, the engine started making funny noises, sputtering and coughing. Gaspard and I turned round. Sommai was bent over the boat. He shouted something I couldn’t hear and lifted the motor out of the water. He pointed wildly to the shore and I understood he wanted to take us there. I didn’t like this at all, but there was no way I could go to the end of the boat without making it capsize. Sommai grabbed a rope attached to the boat and jumped in the water. I couldn’t believe it but despite the strong current and the powerful whirlpools he was pulling us toward the shore. I helped him as much as I could, rowing in the same direction. Gaspard was pale.

As we got to the shore, Sommai tied the boat to one of the small tree trunks growing out of the muddy bank and I helped Gaspard out. He stepped cautiously on the sticky mud and onto the sand. I went back to the boat where Sommai was examining the engine. I don’t know much about mechanics but I wanted at least to try starting it again. Sommai was hysterical, repeating words in English about the engine being broken, and he kept looking at his watch. I became increasingly annoyed with him for not letting me near the engine and Gaspard, who stood just a few metres away, said in a tense voice that someone was coming.

Out of the thick trees, three silhouettes appeared. One man dressed in expensive-looking clothes, his eyes masked by thin sunglasses. Two locals pointing machineguns at us followed behind. There was nothing wrong with the engine and I glared at Sommai who just avoided my eyes. It was too late to do anything and I waited next to Gaspard. The leader addressed us in English. I didn’t understand everything he said but his intentions were not friendly. Sommai was given a gun and he shoved me towards a path in the jungle. Gaspard followed behind. We walked for a few minutes to a clearing nearby and I could still hear the water. One of the henchmen signalled for us to sit down. I turned to Gaspard to ask him if he was okay and Sommai hit me on the side of the head with the stoke of his gun. The blow took me by surprise and the extreme shooting pain only started hammering a few seconds later. Sommai grinned and Gaspard’s face had lost all colour. Warm blood trickled down my cheek. I realized that terrible things were about to happen and I had the premonition that even if I escaped this, nothing would be the same again. The leader sat on a log. He smoked a cigarette and observed us. I could only think about you and Mei, anguish hitting me as hard as the blow to my head.

A few interminable minutes went by, the silence settling in around us, broken only by the rustling of wakening insects. The sun was rising and so was the heat. From the corner of my eyes, I watched the man in charge. He looked Chinese, but I couldn’t be sure. His clothes were brand new, without a speck of dust. He would not have been out of place on a film set. He remained silent, just gazing at us – mostly at Gaspard. Sommai guarded us, as the two others had gone away, probably to hide our boat. I couldn’t figure out who these people were. Surely they weren’t communist agents. Why would the Lao government send this actor lookalike to catch us? I guessed they could only be thieves after our artefacts.

After a while the other two came back. They got a couple of rucksacks hidden in the vegetation and prepared coffee on a small paraffin stove. All this had been carefully planned; they’d been waiting for us all along. I glared at Gaspard, as it dawned on me that he must have talked to somebody about our trips. One of the guards filled four mugs and passed them to the others. The leader turned to Gaspard. I caught a few words and even though his speech was slow and deliberate, I couldn’t be sure what he was saying. When I heard the word ‘naga’, my heart made a somersault. Gaspard shook his head and answered something about not knowing anything about it. I tried to keep my face blank, but my head was reeling.

After finishing his coffee, the leader lit another cigarette. Through the smoke, he nodded at Sommai who got up and grabbed a cloth from one of the bags. He sauntered back to us, bent over Gaspard and shoved the cloth in his mouth, until the old man gagged. He picked up his rifle from the floor, grabbed Gaspard’s thin shoulder and half dragged and yanked him a few metres away from me. Cold sweat ran down my back. The old man lay pitifully on his back, his eyes closed, his hands over his face. Sommai got hold of the rifle from the barrel end, lifted it high above his head and slammed it down with all his might on Gaspard left knee. As I’m writing, the blow to Gaspard’s poor leg still resounds horribly in my mind. His fragile bones shattered into many pieces. Despite the cloth in his mouth, Gaspard gave out a terrible moan. He twitched wildly, his limbs out of control. I thought he would die. The leader kept smoking, a cold look on his face, his glossy black hair shining under the sun. He stood over Gaspard’s shaking form. Pointing to the other leg, he said a few words, flicked his cigarette into the sand and walked away from the clearing.

During the next few hours, I waited, feeling as if my body was losing its substance, as if I didn’t understand what being me meant anymore. I thought they would torture me next. What would happen if Gaspard were to tell them that I was married to a keeper of the naga. Later, I couldn’t say how long, I turned my head towards my old friend. He stared at me with unseeing eyes and I stared back. Feelings of compassion and pity stirred inside me and underwent a subtle change. The longer I stared, the less I seemed to care and soon I had reached a sensation of almost complete indifference towards Gaspard who had curled into a foetal position, apart from his shattered leg, which lay at an odd angle to the rest of his body. Emptiness gained ground inside me and this turned to anger. I became filled with an unknown rage, first directed towards myself for bragging to Gaspard about the naga, but soon against the old man for telling somebody about it.

I looked at the dry sand, the dark jungle, and I was lost. Hours passed and it got darker. Gaspard was quiet for a bit, then twitched with agonising sounds and pitiful sobs. The leader came back and whispered by Gaspard’s side for a while; my eyes remained on my trembling hands and I tried to catch some words that would help me in my predicament. But Phuong, I had resigned myself to the fact that I would be dead very soon and I couldn’t see any way to stop these people from knowing that you were the keeper of the naga. I thought about all that was about to be lost and wondered what the use of everything we’d been through together was if it was to end here. My anger came back even more strongly and I felt ready to explode.

I sank into the deepest abyss of despair, only to be roused by noises coming from the river. The sounds got louder, a girl shouted after a bellowing water buffalo. The leader barked out a couple of brief orders and the two guards grabbed me and Gaspard and dragged us towards the trees. They threw us in the middle of thick bushes and one of them stayed nearby. The other guard and Sommai cleared away all their stuff. The shouts from the girl and the bellows of the buffalo became louder. The guard wasn’t looking at us and I knew what I had to do. I threw myself onto Gaspard and seized his throat. My anger gave me a supernatural force and I squeezed hard. An unstoppable surge of adrenaline flew through my body. I was all powerful. My teeth clenched, but as Gaspard’s resistance ebbed, I had to look away from his gasping face. I was aware of Gaspard’s old papery skin against my fingers and his throat desperately gagging for air, while his legs thrashed on the ground. The last movement I felt was his Adam’s apple under my two thumbs, contracting into one last effort at releasing my grip, then he went limp. I kept holding and pressing as if to tear a hole through his neck. When I look down again, my thumbs had turned white. A dark line had formed around Gaspard’s throat and his features were distorted by pain.

Tears rolled down my face and I suppressed heavy sobs. The white buffalo came stomping into the clearing, crashing through bushes and small trees. He had a leash tied to his neck and a young village girl held tightly on to it. She screamed and hit the buffalo with a long stick, but the animal pulled and jerked his head from side to side. The guard didn’t see me scrambling up. I tore through vegetation and I ran. I ran away from the mysterious interrogator and from Gaspard’s corpse. I don’t know how long I kept running but when night fell, I sat down resting my back against a tree. Everything was quiet and the river sounded close. I was fortunate in many ways, I had managed to run more or less along the river and I hadn’t stepped on one of the many unexploded cluster bombs dropped by the US aviation a few decades ago. I stayed prostrated for a long time. The foreigner would not waste time in finding out who I was and where I lived. Now he would know I wasn’t just helping Gaspard with his expeditions. I had to get home and we had to leave Chiang Mai, maybe Thailand and even Asia.

I picked myself up and walked to the river. I would keep going as close as I could to the edge of the river and hope to find a village.

Stumbling in the silent jungle, I walked onto something crunchy. I had squashed a golden lotus flower. The flattened petals shone in the darkness and I fell to the ground next to them. I curled around the broken flower and cried, stuck in a well of loneliness. From every direction, I sensed the accusing eyes of the eerie black jungle. ‘Murderer’, ‘Destroyer’, the wind whispered through the leaves. I looked to the river; I could just let myself slip into the black water.

But the clouds that had been blocking the light from the moon shifted and I caught sight of an old wooden dugout. I picked the lotus flower in my hands and, holding it carefully, I walked to the boat. It had not been used for a long time. The jungle vegetation had grown over it and the bottom was full of slimy liquid. It took some effort to release it from the muddy edge but once in the water it floated without problem. There was a paddle inside and I rowed against the slow current. My whole body ached, but I kept on moving until I was far enough from the riverside. I was utterly exhausted and the night cold had taken hold of me and seeped into the deepest part of my being. I couldn’t stand to look at the hostile jungle, where I had done the unmentionable, so I kept my eyes onto my flower and I paddled slowly. As dawn rose, I passed a few sleepy villages and I knew I had made it back to Thailand. In comparison, the rest of my trip back to Chang Mai was easy. I carried on to one of the village where Gaspard and I knew a guesthouse owner. I made up a story about capsizing and promised to send some money back. I was back with you and Mei soon after.

The years have passed since that fated day. I was never able to tell you what had happened but I could see in your eyes that you knew I had done something terrible. I thank you for never asking and I thank you for trusting me all these years, even though I didn’t deserve your trust. I thought I had managed to run away from the foreigner but now he has found me, so it is time for me to do what I have to do and atone for murdering Gaspard. I hope we will see each other again.

I will love you always.