The Half-Child (20 page)

She raised her head to see Mitch with his Thai companion from Blue Lagoon coming down the
soi
towards her.

Jayne ran around the first corner she came to. A blind alley. Not a wise move. She ducked into the portico of what looked like a warehouse and pressed her back against the door. It gave way against her weight, sending her tumbling inside arse first. She sprung to her feet and spun around to face a stage lined with thirty-odd Thai beauties, resplendent in gowns, big hair, tiaras and high-gloss lipstick. Apart from two portable bench seats, the space in front of them was empty. The whole room was flooded with harsh fluorescent light, leaving nowhere to hide.

Smiles thawed in the wake of Jayne's incursion. Hands were raised to open mouths. One woman sneered as if Jayne was something distasteful she'd found on the sole of her jewel-encrusted stiletto heel. Another swooned with the theatricality of a soap opera actress.

The exaggerated femininity gave them away. This was a pageant for
kratoey
, Thailand's infamous ‘ladyboys'.

Kratoey
could be scathing misogynists, especially en masse like this. Jayne had to think fast.

‘Younger sisters,' she said with a
wai
, ‘my name is Jayne.

There's a tall, dark, handsome Marine chasing me and I don't want anything to do with him. I need to hide fast. Can you help me?'

There was a moment's stunned silence as they took in Jayne's ability to speak Thai, her flattering form of address and the implications of her predicament. Then the room burst into a flurry of activity.

Under the direction of their leader—she was the tallest and the only one in red—the beauty queens rearranged themselves in a group formation. Those with the highest splits up the sides of their dresses sat up front in mermaid pose. Others shuffled as fast as their straight skirts would allow and stood behind them. A bench was spirited up from the floor to form a middle row.

‘Girls with broadest shoulders,' the leader barked, ‘get into the second row. That means you, Jojo. Quickly.'

‘But
Ajarn
Thanya—'

‘Don't argue,' the one addressed as Teacher Thanya snapped. ‘Move closer together. Now you, farang—'

‘It's Jayne,' she piped up.

‘Get behind the middle row.'

Jayne did as she was told, plunging into a fug of perfume and hairspray.

‘Girls at the back on each end, step back a little. That's it. Khun Jayne, crouch down.'

The directive put Jayne's eyes at arse-level. She wondered how many of those sculpted curves were ‘surgically enhanced', as the magazine ads put it.

‘Duck as low as you can,' Thanya said.

At that moment the door burst open and Jayne heard Tommy's voice. Mitch must have set him on her tail.

‘Where are you, you little—?' he began. ‘What the—?'

‘
Sawadee ka
,' Thanya said, the bark in her voice giving way to a purr.

Jayne felt a rustle of skirts around her as the group bowed in unison. She squatted down on her heels.

‘Can we help you?' Thanya said in English.

‘I don't know, m'am,' Tommy said, still angry. ‘Any of you seen a white girl, about five-eight, dark curly hair, Australian?'

‘
Australian
?' Thanya said. ‘I've never heard of an Australian girl trying to compete in a Thai beauty contest, have you?'

‘No, m'am,' Tommy said. ‘But—'

‘Thai girls are so much more beautiful than Australian girls that it wouldn't be fair,' she added. ‘Don't you agree?'

Yeah, yeah, rub it in
, Jayne thought, brushing a stray feather from her face.

‘Yes, m'am,' Tommy said. ‘But—'

‘So maybe you see a Thai girl you like better than the farang you came in looking for.'

‘Well, sure but—'

Jayne heard him hesitate, imagined him weighing up his options. Should he pursue Jayne as a matter of pride?

Or was he better off cutting his losses and forgetting about her in the arms of one of these beauties? She supposed she should feel flattered that he even gave it a second thought.

‘Or maybe you'd rather keep looking for your Australian friend.' Thanya tapped her toe on the concrete floor.

‘No, m'am,' Tommy said. ‘It's just that you ladies look so lovely an' all. I can't possibly choose…'

What a charmer, Jayne thought, her legs starting to cramp.

‘Count me out,' murmured one in Thai. ‘Chocolate is bad for my figure.'

A whoop of laughter was silenced when Thanya cleared her throat.

‘Perhaps you like me to choose for you?'

‘M'am, that sure would help me out.'

Jayne smiled. Thanya had played Tommy perfectly.

‘Rasmi?' she called.

Jayne craned her head to see which set of stockinged legs stepped forward. They were long and slender, the muscular side of shapely, tottering on gold stilettos and encased in a figure-hugging skirt of purple and gold silk, split to mid-thigh at the back.

Tommy let out his breath with a whistle.

‘
Sawadee ka
,' Jayne heard Rasmi say, imagined her bowing low.

‘
Sawadee ka
to you, too, m'am,' Tommy said, using a form of address in Thai reserved for women and
kratoey
, sending another titter through the group.

‘Hush,' Thanya said. ‘I'm sure Rasmi will take your mind off the loss of your Australian friend,' she said to Tommy.

‘Yes m'am.'

He sounded so eager, Jayne almost felt embarrassed for him.

Rasmi might have been going away for months, the way she took leave, hugging each person in the group and wishing them all
chowk dee
. Just when Jayne thought her legs would give out, Rasmi finally escorted Tommy from the building.

There was a collective pause while everyone waited to be sure they'd gone, followed by a burst of shrieks, gasps and chatter.

‘Oh my god, did you see his ass,' one started.

‘Ooh, and those broad shoulders—so manly,' said another.

‘Thick neck,' said a third, ‘not so good.'

Jayne stood and stretched her legs.

‘I bet he's got a huge cock,' the first one added.

‘Is that why you were running away, girlfriend—too hot for you to handle?'

This from a
kratoey
with hands on her hips and a nasty smile.

Jayne felt the gaze of the group. The easy way out was to say yes, the Marine was too hot for her, let the
kratoey
have another laugh at her expense, and get the hell out of there.

But she felt an irrational urge to impress them.

‘Actually, I'm a private detective,' she said. ‘I stole something from that Marine—evidence for a case I'm working on.'

To her satisfaction, this sent a new buzz through the group.

‘Ooh, how exciting!' said one, clapping her hands.

‘Are you a good enough detective to find me a husband?' said Jojo, clasping her hands to her bosom, which seemed to deflate a little under the pressure.

‘Are you kidding, no detective's
that
good,' another weighed in.

‘That Marine's in for quite a night,' Thanya said, fiddling with the tiny crystal chandelier that hung from her earlobe.

‘What do you mean?' Jayne asked.

‘Well, he's already had his pocket picked once. And now he's gone home with Rasmi who has a special talent for separating her admirers from their hard-earned cash using only her natural charms and a little sleeping medicine applied to a part of the body any red-blooded man would find hard not to lick.'

Jayne raised her eyebrows. Stories about sex workers in Pattaya who drugged and robbed their clients were weekly fodder for the Thai tabloids. Most infamous was a
kratoey
alleged to administer sedatives by rubbing them on her breasts, dubbed by the press as the ‘thief with tainted nipples'. Up to now Jayne thought it was just another urban myth.

‘She never gets reported,' Thanya said. ‘She leaves a note saying she has their contact details and some compromising photos that her sister will send by post addressed to the lady of the house if anything ever happens to her. No one's ever dared call her bluff.'

Jayne smiled and shook her head. ‘If only I'd known.

Next time I need something pilfered, I'm calling Rasmi.'

A couple of the
kratoey
giggled but Jayne could see that her interest value was wearing off.

‘Sisters, I'm very grateful for your help. I won't keep you any longer from your rehearsal.'

‘A good thing, too,' Thanya clapped her hands again and gestured for the girls to get back in line. ‘We have too much to do. Finalise the music. Fix the lighting. Choreograph the parades.'

‘What's the occasion?' Jayne said.

‘You know the Tiffany Cabaret?'

Jayne recalled the billboard on the outskirts of town.

‘Well, we're rehearsing for the inaugural Miss Tiffany Universe contest,' Thanya said. ‘It will be spectacular, breathtaking. Not just the greatest show in Pattaya—it's going to be bigger than Miss Thailand.'

Jayne expected this to be met with more howls of laughter but the
kratoey
were straight-faced. Thanya tilted her chin high enough to make her earrings tinkle.

‘The winner of Miss Tiffany Universe will qualify to compete in the Miss Queen of the Universe pageant in America,' she said. ‘You should come, Khun Jayne.'

‘When is it?'

‘End of May.'

Jayne counted on being back in Bangkok long before then, but nodded politely.

‘I'll certainly try.'

She gave Thanya a
wai
and bowed to the rest of her unlikely bodyguards as they resumed their line across the stage. The strains of Whitney Houston singing ‘I'm every woman' could be heard from a hidden sound system and several of the beauty queens lip-synched along. As she let herself out the back door, Jayne remembered another term for Thailand's third sex:
nang faa chamlaeng
, ‘angels in disguise'.

She hailed a
songthaew,
took a seat at the end of the bench, and pulled Tommy's photos from the waistband of her jeans. They were a little crumpled from the ordeal, but otherwise undamaged. She examined them by the passing light of neon signs and street lamps. Mitch and Tommy on surf-skis; having massages on the beach; drinking cocktails in coconut shells; posing thumbs-up, with go-go dancers behind them, beside them, on top of them. The women wore nothing but strained smiles.

Jayne's face burned to think she not only kissed Tommy, she almost enjoyed it. She spat out the back of the car and willed Rasmi to fleece him for all he was worth.

The photos of an African-American couple—presumably Leroy and his wife—with an infant stood in stark contrast.

The woman held the child with palpable tenderness, her head bowed low like a Byzantine Madonna. Jayne couldn't see the baby's face. On the wall in the background were framed certificates, degrees and qualifications with official seals.

There were several more family shots—the man looking up, grinning nervously, the woman transfixed by the baby— one of Tommy and Mitch with the new family, and one with Frank and Doctor Somsri standing either side of Leroy and Alicia. Then finally a close-up of the child.

The
songthaew
turned and headed up the hill towards Jayne's hotel. There were few streetlights on this stretch and Jayne strained to get a good look at the picture. It wasn't until the car pulled over to let her off that she had enough light to see. His eyes were closed and his chin partly obscured by a blanket, but Jayne was sure of it.

The little boy Tommy's cousin had adopted was Mayuree's son Kob.

25

W
en had already moved out. Mayuree cleaned the apartment in her wake and packed the little that remained in a red, white and blue striped plastic bag. A few clothes, her old college textbooks, a bunch of letters. She found a photo of Sumet and Kob taken on a visit to the Elephant Village and slipped it into her handbag together with Kob's stuffed frog and the small wooden box wrapped in white cloth, which contained his ashes. She took out her phone and contemplated calling her brother. She couldn't do it. Not yet.

She gave Wen all Kob's clothes, knowing she'd sell them to a second-hand dealer rather than risk having his bad luck rub off on Moo. Mayuree gave her all her own work clothes, shoes, cosmetics and perfume, too. Wen promised to keep these things for her but Mayuree insisted she get rid of them. While she might not know what was in store for her, she had no intention of ever returning to Pattaya.

Mayuree's hair hung limp in an unkempt ponytail. Not a trace of makeup remained on her face and her skin was dry. The sleeping tablets Doctor Somsri had given her made her feel groggy and parched but she kept taking them to dull the pain. What little joy there was in Mayuree's life had died with Kob. Not even her boss's decision to cancel her debt in light of her misfortune could raise Mayuree's spirits. She'd welcome such debt ten times over if it would bring back her son.

Mayuree closed the door to her flat and slipped the key under it. She made her way downstairs to the street and hailed a motorcycle taxi to take her to the bus depot. As the driver revved the engine, she eased herself on to the pillion seat and balanced the bag on her lap.

Doctor Somsri's drugs didn't stop her head from aching with the pressure of unshed tears. She wished she could cry. Crying might allow her to cleanse her son's spirit since she had been denied the chance to wash his dead body.

Mayuree didn't understand why her son had been cremated with such haste. The doctor had said something about a risk of infection. Surely they could have allowed her to see his body in the hospital. Even from a distance. Even from behind plate-glass. She'd asked them about this, too.

‘Too distressing,' the doctor had said.