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Henry

Derrick Sherwin

    The town was hell on wheels, the height of the tourist season, Christmas and New Year. All the hotels, bungalow complexes and even the small Thai-style bungalows outside the small town of Lamai on the island of Koh Samui were full for the eight or nine weeks of continuous celebrations. After sunset, even the beaches began to fill up with backpackers who had been foolish enough to not plan ahead. The town was a throbbing sardine can.
    Business was good, everyone was thriving. The bars were so packed that tourists stood three deep trying to get a drink. The bar girls, usually competing for a customer’s attention had their pick of the bunch and business was brisk. At a minimum of five hundred Baht a night, plus a share of the customer’s bar bill and any drinks she could con him into buying, the girls were set to earn real money. Some would get lucky and please their customers so much that they would be retained throughout the whole of the customer’s holiday and very probably wheedle a substantial leaving present out of him at the end of it all. Maybe a gold bracelet or necklace, the preferred present, or at least, a few thousand Baht as long as the punter hadn’t completely run out of money. Sex at supermarket prices! Whatever, the girls were going to make a bundle of money this season, along with the bars, the restaurants, gift shops, clothes shops selling fake label clothes and Indian tailors producing smart suits and dresses based on famous designers but at a fraction of the price.
    To Henry, however, this was just another year. Just another high season where one had to make enough during this short period to support the business during the slack period, supplement the leaner months after the majority of the tourists had gone and only a trickle remained.
    Henry had seen so many high seasons come and go that he’d forgotten just how long he’d been on this island paradise. He remembered Lamai when it was simply a one-horse town with a dirt road running through it that became a sea of mud when the rains came. He remembered when it was nothing much more than a fishing village the gloriously cream-coloured beach simply a parking lot for the fishing boats. The surrounding hills of coconut groves and the more fertile lands beyond had been inherited by the favourite sons of the families, the less valuable land at the seashore given to the black sheep or less fortunate family members. Now, times had changed. The once useless land beside the sea was now valuable real estate upon which had been built many hotels and bungalow resorts, bars, restaurants, shops, all of which the now wealthy Thai landowners rented out to those whose entreprenurial spirit could be matched by their bank accounts. Lamai was at its peak of development.
    First had come the backpackers in the sixties and seventies, travelling from one country to another. They spent little money but performed a much more useful function – they told of the glories of Thailand, its inexpensive life-style and stunning beaches and it didn’t take long for the travel companies to latch onto this new unspoiled territory. The package tours boomed and soon the island, particularly Chaweng, its largest resort area, began to blossom.
    The Europeans were not slow to see the possibilities of this developing trade. Many restaurants and bars were opened by Germans, Swedes and English. The real beneficiaries were the Thai landowners. They alone could build and own the supermarkets, the groups of bars that were rented to Thai Mama Sangs and the odd Europeans and populated with willing young girls from the rural hinterland as well as the more polished professionals from Bangkok, Pattaya or Phuket. In the eighties and nineties such places became the destination where those who craved unbridled sex, ever open bars at supermarket prices and cheap accommodation came. It was a time of excess with no recriminations to suffer – just hangovers and broken hearts.
    Henry had lived through all the growing pains of Lamai and was now considered to be the old Guru among both the European community and the Thais alike. He had many friends and few enemies.
    Henry’s bar was off the main road, away from the madness of ear-splitting music and screaming girls. His clientele were mostly ex-pats of one country or another who’d wanted none of the brassy, boozing of the bars on the main tourist drag. He only had two girls working for him, both of whom were ‘unavailable’ for anything other than serving drinks and chatting to the regular customers.
    There had been a time when Henry had owned one of the largest bars in the centre of the tourist high-life and had fifteen or so girls working at his bar – all ‘available’. He’d rented a large house in which all the girls lived rent free as part of their package deal, which also provided for three meals a day. However, Henry found that he was also expected to act as father confessor, banker, and policeman during the frequent arguments, squabbles and even fights between the girls. Being a beneficent pimp-cum-bar owner was a tedious occupation and one, which Henry soon tired of. Besides, he was getting to old to cope with the daily hassles. His idea to corner the ex-pat market had paid off. He had a constant, if small, group of regular customers who preferred the peace and relative solitude of ‘Henrys’. They could go and chase young girls at any one of a dozen other bars within spitting distance but only at Henry’s could they relax, not be pestered by screaming bar girls or have their ear-drums perforated by blasting Thai music.
    Most of Henry’s customers however had a permanent Thai girlfriend or ‘wife’ who looked after their daily needs, cleaning, cooking, doing their laundry and, more often than not, carrying the unsteady burden back to the bungalow to ‘sleep it off’. Servicing their sex lives was a small task since most of them were too old or too drunk at the end of a session at Henry’s to consider such activities.
    So, Henry’s club flourished. It wasn’t exactly a wildly profitable business but it had the advantage of having a low rent and overhead and suited Henry down to the ground. He had a small pension, which supplemented any shortfall and really all he needed was an occupation which provided companionship and drinking partners because Henry was also known to enjoy a little of the amber liquid on a nightly basis.
    Apart from his bar he had little or no personal life. He lived very modestly at the far end of town in a primitive Thai-style bungalow with a ‘squat’ toilet and a water tap connected to an antiquated pump outside. The bungalow had one room, which served as living, and bedroom accommodation and a small lean-to, which housed the toilet facilities, such as they were. There was a mattress, an overhead fan which sometimes worked and sometimes didn’t. No kitchen. Primitive but sufficient for Henry’s needs. An old cardboard suitcase contained all the clothes he owned, a few T-shirts, mostly free gifts from other bars and restaurants, two pairs of dung-coloured slacks, one on, one in the wash and assorted flip-flops.
    Noi, one of the less aggressive bar owners and a long-time friend of Henry’s looked after his daily needs. He ate with her and the girls in their communal bungalow. They did his laundry for him and put him to bed when he was too drunk to climb the steps to his bungalow. In return, Henry wrote their letters to their foreign boyfriends whom they would cajole for money for one spurious reason or another. Henry had a number of ‘form’ letters, which he would adapt for each particular missive. “Have accident motor-bike. Go hospital. Need money, No have...” or, “Mama me sick. Need money for Doctor...” or, if any of those didn’t work, “Maybe I have baby you. Need money get rid of or maybe you me marry...” He tried to phrase the letters as the girls themselves would speak and all wold begin, “You very good man, good heart, that’s why I go with you. I know you love me...” and end, “I never forget kindness you to me. If can not send money I no know what I do but will understand. Love you...” and so on.
    One such correspondence, which Henry had instigated, had blossomed into a full-blown relationship and the boy had returned to marry the girl and spirit her off to Sweden. The boy had never known the crucial part that Henry had played in this romance and every year, at Christmas, the girl sent him a Christmas card with some small gift of money.
    His current literary project was for a girl named Dee. She had four such prospective customers, each one visiting the island once a year, each one, fortunately at a different time. Dee was a smart girl. For some time now she had kept all four suitors happy, with Henry’s help, and they each sent her money regularly each month. Dee therefore didn’t have to work too hard at the bar and only did so when nagged to by the easygoing Noi.
    Very often, as on this night, she would walk arm in arm with Henry to his bar. This took some time, for inevitably Henry would stop and chat on the way, accepting a hospitable beer from one of the other bar owners in exchange for a little friendly advice about some problem or another. Henry knew everyone and everyone knew him.
    Dee was unusually quiet this night and eventually Henry asked her what the problem was.
    “Peter, him come Lamai tonight,” she pouted.
    “But I thought Charlie came at Christmas – or was it John?” Henry had trouble keeping track of Dee’s complicated love life.
    “Charlie, yes, him come Christmas. Peter him come February, now him come Christmas. You read letter for me for February – you no remember?”
    “Sure, sure, February, Peter. So he’s changed his mind?”
    “Him telephone. Come Christmas. Big problem. Can not sleep in two bed at same time.”
    “Perhaps you could spend the first half of the night with Charlie and the second half with Peter?” he teased, enjoying the farcical possibilities of the situation.
    “You no joke!” she reprimanded him. “This serious. What I do?”
    “Who would you rather spend Christmas with?”
    “Same, same,” she said. ”Both nice. Both love me too much. Both send same-same money each month.”
    “Ah...” Henry considered the conundrum for some moments before he said, “Go home.”
    “Can not!” she almost shouted and eyes turned on them from the nearby bars they were passing.
    “Why not?” asked Henry. “Say your mother’s sick or something. If you go home they can’t catch you out, can they?”
    Dee considered this possibility for some moments then replied. “But can go with other lady.”
    “I thought they loved you dearly,” said Henry with a grin.
    “You no joke,” she wagged an admonishing finger at him. “I know they look lady more if I no here. Other lady jealous me. They tell story, make lies. Want take for boomsing. Want steal Dee man! No, can not!”
    “I don’t know then Dee,” he shook his head, still amused by the situation. “It was bound to happen sometime.”
    “Oh, “she moaned, “Dee in deep shit!”
    Later that night, when Henry was propping up his bar, listening to one of his regulars tell a story for the third time that night, he caught sight of a young man hovering at the entrance to his bar.
    “Hang on, Jock,” he patted the Old Faithful on the arm and left his stool and approached the young man.
    “Looking for someone?” he asked the young man, who was looking very uncertain of himself.
    “Well, yes, er ... Henry, actually.”
    “You’ve found him,” Henry extended his hand. “Welcome. Get you a beer or something?”
    He still had the young man by the hand and led him towards the bar. Jock was still continuing with his story, unaware that he was talking to thin air as Henry led the young man to a stool at the bar.
    “Carlsberg or Heineken? Or the local mouthwash?” asked Henry.
    “Yes, thanks. Carlsberg.”
    Henry nodded to one of the girls behind the bar. “So, why’re you looking for old Uncle Henry, mate?”
    “Well, actually I came here hoping to find my friend. She told me about this bar and mentioned your name when I came here last October.”
    Henry’s eyes glazed over for a second. “October...” he mused. “You wouldn’t be looking for Dee, would you? Name of Charlie?”
    “Charlie? No, my name’s Rob. I wanted to surprise her for Christmas.” He frowned. “Who’s Charlie?”
    “Ah, right, Rob.” The name clicked. He’d written one of his letters to him just recently. “Rob, yes, I believe Dee’s mentioned you. She’s ... she’s not around at the moment. Have your beer and I’ll see if I can find her for you.”
    He gave Rob a fatherly pat on the shoulder “Here, this is Jock – Jock, Rob.”
    Jock turned slightly towards the youth, nodded and continued his story as if nothing had happened. Rob, somewhat bemused, tried to listen as Henry bustled off into the darkness of the road beyond his bar.
    Dee was seated on one of the barstools at Noi bar, her head thrown back in laughter and her arms entwined protectively around the neck of the young man seated next to her. She waived cheerily at Henry as he ambled towards her.
    “Henry, you remember my boyfriend, Peter. He arrive tonight.” She hugged and kissed the happy youth who raised a friendly hand to Henry.
    “Yes,” said Henry, “Peter, you came last...?”
    “February,” said the smiling lad. “Decided I couldn’t wait this year so I came early to spend Christmas with Dee.” He smiled lovingly at her.
    “Right, er...Right,” said Henry, taking Dee gently by the arm. “Dee, slight problem.”
    He smiled reassuringly at the young man and gently eased Dee away from the bar out of earshot.
    “Remember that deep shit you said you was in?” he asked, whispering in case the young man could overhear them.
    “You find answer?” asked Dee, he face brightening up immediately.
    “No, sweetheart, you’ve just sunk deeper into it. October’s at my bar.”
    “October,” she frowned, not understanding.
    “Rob? Remember him? October!”
    Her mystified frown turned to a look of horror. “Rob? Him only just go home!”
    “Well, he’s back!” said Henry, “Seems he couldn’t stay away from you - wanted to surprise you for Christmas.”
    “Surprise! Yes, him surprise! Oh Buddha! What to do?”
    Henry scratched his head thoughtfully.” Christ knows! Does this Rob know you work at Noi’s?”
    “No. Yes! ... I don’t know. Yes, we meet here October.”
    “Well, please God he doesn’t come looking for you here. If I were you, I’d take young, whatshisname there, young February, and tuck him away somewhere nice and quiet. I’ll try and head young Rob off until tomorrow. Then? Christ knows! You’ll have to think of something.”
    He patted her pert behind and headed her back towards the bar and February.
    “Try Dominic’s up on the hill – nobody ever goes there except to play pool,” he said as he walked away.
    With that parting shot of advice, Henry disappeared into the milling crowds of tourists back towards his own bar.
    Dee turned on her best toothy smile and returned to Peter, glaring daggers at one of the other girls who had begun to move in on him.
    Rob was still seated at the bar where Henry had left him, still being bored to tears by Jock.
    “Sorry it took so long,” apologised Henry, “Had a job finding her. She’s gone off to Naton hospital apparently; one of he mate’s had a bad motorbike accident. Some drunken Thai prat smacked right into her. Happens all the time here. You look done in mate – flight getting to you?”
    “Just a bit. I’ll be all right when I see Dee,” said the young man sorrowfully.
    “Yeah – well, that could be some time. Her friend’s pretty bad so she could be there all night. Tell you what, have another beer on me, go back to your pad and get a good night’s rest. I’m bound to see Dee in the morning so I can tell her you’re here. Where’re you staying?”
    “The Galaxy,” Rob said hesitantly, “But...”
    “Believe me,” smiled Henry in his best avuncular manner,” It’ll be better if you get some kip, get your strength up for tomorrow night, eh?” He winked knowingly at the disappointed Rob.
    “Oh, well, if you think that’s best.”
    “Two more Carlsberg’s please Mo...”
    He patted the young man on the shoulder again in his best mine host manner. “Now, where d’you say you come from...?
    Henry got back to his bungalow at five that morning and at eight was woken by a frantic banging on his door.
    “Papa Henry!” Papa Henry, it’s Dee!”
    “Oh Christ,” muttered Henry, “What now?”
    Dee pushed the door open and entered the dimly lit room. “What happen Rob?” she asked as she squatted on the floor next to Henry’s untidy bed.
    In-between yawns, Henry told her.
    “But what I do now?’ asked the forlorn girl.
    “Go back to bed until mid-day. It’s too bloody early! I can’t think straight.”
    “No, I go breakfast Peter. I come back for shower, clean clothes.
    “Then shower, eat and come back later. Let me think!”
    Henry turned gruffly away from her and buried his head in his pillow.
    “I come back,” said the girl and moved towards the door.
     “Yeah, later – much later!” groaned Henry.
    “Papa, you good man, good heart...”
    “Yeah, yeah, yeah – I wrote the book, remember? Now, piss off!”
    Henry turned over as Dee left, thumping the rickety door closed behind her. He wouldn’t sleep now. He knew it. What a situation! Two boyfriends already here, one due to arrive all convinced they’re the only one in her life, all in town at the same time!
    “There’ll be blood...” he muttered to himself, “Blood and tears!”
    The island of Koh Samui is small and each township not much bigger than an English country village with one main street running through it, except Chaweng which is one sprawling mass of unplanned buildings. In Lamai however, it was a sure thing that if one stood in one spot on the main street one would be bound to meet every other visiting tourist at some time or another. For Dee to keep three eager suitors from meeting at some point was, therefore, an unlikely scenario. Her options were few if she wanted to keep her secrets. She could leave town suddenly but she’d rejected that option for fear of losing any one of her boyfriends to other “predators”. She could choose one and reject the other two, but she wouldn’t do that either thought Henry. She’s worked hard to maintain her income from all three and would be loathe to diminish it by two thirds. Suicide, he thought, the only answer!
    Henry was a resourceful man and had extricated himself and many of his friends from difficult situations over the years but he’d never faced a problem such as this. He was stumped! He finally got up and joined Noi for a bowl of moden soup and some rice and together they pondered the problem.
    “She stupid girl,” Ventured Noi,” No good have four boyfriends.”
    “Oh, I don’t know,” replied Henry philosophically. “She’s done all right so far. She gets fifty quid a month from each of ‘em plus whatever else we can con them out of. That’s about twenty thousand Baht a month. Then she gets more from the occasional punter at the bar in-between time. How many of your girls make that kind of money?”
    “True,” said Noi,” But she no can do you no write letters.”
    “Now, don’t blame me!” protested Henry. “I’m in deep enough as it is. If I had any sense I’d bugger off to Phuket for Christmas! And let her sort her own bloody mess out. Greedy bitch!
    “You no do that,” said Noi, “I know you. You true Papa to girls.”
    She nudged his shoulder affectionately.
    “I was just thinking,” pondered Henry.

    “What we got to do is keep these three blokes apart. They don’t know each other so unless they meet with Dee unexpectedly, there won’t be a problem. So, we need to keep her isolated but keep each one of them on the hook separately.”
     “How you do that?” puzzled Noi, such problems too much for her simple brain at the best of times.
    “Maybe ...It’ll cost a few in backhanders and I’ll have to call in some favours but it might just work. I’ll have to find my friend Num.”
    “The policeman?” asked Noi; slightly alarmed at anything that involved the law.
    “Mm...” nodded Henry. “Exactly. The policeman.”
    Rob had spent the morning lounging around the swimming pool at his hotel and was now sipping a cold melon shake on the restaurant terrace overlooking the beach impatiently waiting for Henry to arrive.
    “Sorry I’m so late,” apologised Henry, “Sitting on the bench opposite Rob with a heavy sigh. I didn’t get home until late – one of the disadvantages of owning a bar.”

    “Right,” said Rob, obviously eager for news. “Did you see Dee?”

    “Not actually see,” said Henry.” I spoke to her on the phone. She’s still at the hospital. I don’t know when she’ll be back. There could be a complication.”

    “Is her friend seriously injured?” asked Rob. “Maybe I can help?”

    “No, no – her friend’s OK but there’s a problem about the motorbike. It belonged to Dee, you see but it wasn’t exactly legal – no papers, no insurance.”

    “But she’s not in serious trouble, is she? “ worried Rob anxiously.

    “Well, a bit early to say. They’re still trying to sort the problem out.”

    “I must go to her,” said Rob, “She may need my help.”

    “Steady on, son, steady on.” Henry put a restraining hand on the young man’s shoulder. “Nothing you can do that isn’t being done already.”

    “But she may need me. She may need help,” protested the distraught young man. “ She may need money!”

    “She may well, indeed, later,” said Henry, the possibility of another ‘touch’ looming in his mind. “It’s good of you to offer and I’m sure she’s appreciate it later, but not now. It’s better if tourists don’t get involved with the police – better for the Thais that is. I’ll keep you in touch with what’s happening and let you know.”
    “But when can I see her?” implored the young man.
    Ain’t love grand, thought Henry. “I’ll make arrangements if I can. Now, just try and relax.”
    With that he left the hotel and hurried up the road to a bungalow complex. He found Peter lounging in the sun on the seaside terrace, reading a paperback novel.
    “Waiting for Dee?” he asked pleasantly.
    “Oh, hello,” said the slightly pink young man.
    “I’d get out of the sun if I was you,” advised Henry as he sat in a chair in the shade of a coconut tree.
    “May not seem very bright behind them clouds but it’ll still cook you just as bad.”
    Peter nodded, put his book to one side and joined him in the shade.
    ”Thought I’d just pop in and see if you were here. Dee asked me to. Been a bit of trouble...”
    He went on to explain his story about the accident, embellishing it somewhat as he grew more confident of its affect. He left the pink youth with the same promise he had made to Rob, that he would arrange for him to see Dee as soon as possible.
    Now, just one more to take care of, he thought as he strode up the road to borrow a motorbike from his friend at the hire shop. Dee had said that the third friend was arriving today on the three o’clock flight from Bangkok. Charlie, the Christmas punter. Dee was safely tucked away in the nick, courtesy of his mate Num, the policeman. She didn’t like being banged up but it was the only way Henry could think of to get her out of the way and at the same time allow her three punters to see her every day, independently, so there’d be no chance of them meeting. He was rather proud of his nifty arrangement and fortunately Dee saw the sense of it.
    Harry didn’t much like motorbikes, there were too many accidents on the island. Largely through ignorance and inexperience and more often than not through drink. However, it was the only cheap way to get around the island and the drive to the airport was really quite pleasant along the sea road.
    He arrived just as the passengers from the three o’clock flight were disembarking from the aircraft and he studied them all, looking for a likely Charlie amongst them. He was sure he’d met Charlie before but then he’d seen so many young men come and go that eventually they all began to look familiar. He chose saw two likely looking “Charlies” and Henry chose the one who looked most at home with the arrivals procedure. He thought that the one who looked a little confused was probably a new and unfamiliar visitor to the island.
    “Charlie?” he enquired hopefully of the likely one.
    The young man looked briefly at him then muttered something that sounded insulting in German.
    Henry turned away, affronted and himself muttered, “We did win the bloody war you know”
    He looked anxiously around the rest of the arrivals mob who were by now trying to sort out their baggage.
    “Did you say Charlie?” a voice behind him asked.
    “Right,” said Henry. He turned to see a large bottomed girl grinning at him.
    “Charlotte, actually, but Charlie to her friends. Dee send you?”
    “Right,” said Henry, his jaw dropping slightly.
    “How sweet,” said Charlie. “She’s such a thoughtful child.”
    “Isn’t she?” said Henry. Was there no end to Dee’s talents?
    “Met her last Christmas, actually,” said the butch one. “Such an enchanting girl struggling so hard to extricate herself from that ghastly bar. You a friend of hers?”
    “Yes,” said Henry, “Name’s Henry. More of a father figure, actually.”
    “Splendid,” said the large one giving Henry a slap on the back. “Good to meet you Henry. Can’t wait to see Dee.”
    “Well”, stuttered Henry, still trying to get over the shock of the hefty thwack on the back, “You might have to. There’s a slight problem...”
    Henry went into his now familiar story about the hospital, the motorbike accident, the insurance foul-up and the police and so on.
    “No problem that can’t be solved, right?” said the butch baggage forcefully. “Sort it out later.”
    After dumping Charlie at her hotel, fortunately not one either of the boys were staying at, Henry repaired to his bar early. It had been a busy day and he needed reviving. He also needed to plan the sequence of visits, a task that would demand immaculate timing.
    Henry was on his fourth beer and a little more relaxed as Rob arrived on the dot at seven. Henry downed the last dregs of his beer and seated Rob on the back of his motorbike and they sped off towards Naton and the police station.
    They arrived a little before seven-thirty as planned to be met by the stern-faced Num, Henry’s friend. Rob was led to a small room and an emotional reunion took place between a suitably sorrowful Dee and her October lover.
    Henry kept his ear close to the door and heard Dee have Rob swear that despite her incarceration he would wait for her and remain faithful. He, of course, swore his undying love and left offering to pay whatever fine would release her. Num almost spoiled the whole thing by mentioning a sum but Henry quickly saved the situation by suggesting that this might be unethical and actually harm Dee’s case. He glared at the policeman. Num shrugged – worth a try.
    Rob left reluctantly and Henry took him back to Lamai, to Henry’s bar to drown his sorrows again with the promise to keep him in touch with the situation and return with him the next night if necessary for another visit.
    Next stop, Peter and the same performance but without the final stop at Henry’s bar. Instead Henry spent and hour at Peter’s bungalow, downed four large G and T’s promising as with Rob to meet with him the next day and bring him up to date and so on.
    Now for the ballbreaker, thought Henry, as he prepared to himself to pick up Charlie and go through the same procedure as before. But Charlie was different. Charlie was a tough feminist who took no shit from anyone, whether he be a politician or a Thai policeman. Nothing daunted her. Confronting Num at the police station she started quoting feminist threats like they were printed on the back of a conrflakes packet. Num’s eyes glazed over and he looked to Henry for support against this fearsome tirade. Henry finally persuaded Charlie that threatening a Thai policeman would only serve to aggravate the situation. Dee, in her brief meeting with Charlie, substantiated this and begged her not to interfere. Henry finally got Charlie out of the police station but she was still muttering about repercussions from her friends in Bangkok in the feminist movement.
    Henry was never more relieved in his life to get Charlie away from the police station. Num was beginning to lose his cool and it wouldn’t have taken much more for him to throw Charlie into the slammer, that is if he could have moved her at all.
    With great relief Henry dumped the feminist harridan back at her bungalow and repaired to his bar once more to ease the pain. He was well into the stage of passing into a delightful alcoholic oblivion when a voice behind him alerted his defensive system.
    “Somebody called Henry, here?” asked a very posh London voice. “Noi bar said I might find him here friend of Dee’s.”
    Mo behind the bar giggled. Henry silenced her with a glowering look and turned his attention to the newest arrival explaining the situation and agreeing to meet with the young man the next morning.
    Henry then got very drunk and, as always in such circumstances, fell asleep at the bar, or rather under it!
    The morning was uncommonly bright and punctuated by the morning cock crows around Lamai. It seemed to Henry, whose head was bursting, that every cockerel in Lamai had to talk to the other. After their morning’s work of waking up the entire population they seemed to give up their territorial exhortations and retire, either to sleep, eat or copulate. Henry considered every chicken to be his enemy, particularly this morning, as his head seemed to be singing a tune in a different key – something akin to a thundering diesel engine.
    He staggered from beneath the bar, groped his way to the toilet and threw up a stream of vomit that seemed to be pure Gin.
    “I’ll never forgive you for this Dee,” he muttered between heaves. “Never!”
    It took two large draft Carlsberg’s, a full greasy English breakfast and several more visits to the loo before Henry could even stand up straight and breathe with ease. By eleven o’clock he’d recovered enough to relax, review the situation and ignore the pounding diesel in his head, which had fortunately moved on a few miles, its thumping diminished.
    He had four of Dee’s lovers in suspension. Dee incarcerated safely and relatively comfortably in his friend Num’s nick. He was buying time but not solving the situation that was complicated enough without the ballbreaker’s threatening behaviour. He took a nearby menu, turned it over onto its blank side and began to make a table of who was here and for how long, with their departure date if he knew it. The two first arrivals would be leaving immediately after Christmas, their bucket-shop tickets fixed. Christmas was only a couple of days away so he would have to accommodate all of them with visits to Dee, at least until after Christmas. He hadn’t yet sussed out how long Alan was staying and could only vaguely remember talking to him last night. Charlie, he was sure, was going to be the problem.
    He could keep Dee holed up in the police station for no more than a week. Num was going bananas as it was and it was going to cost an arm and a leg to appease him. Assuming that Charlie didn’t call in her “Hell’s Angels” from Bangkok and cause a diplomatic incident, he thought he could probably just about get away with it.
    He met with Alan as arranged and after giving him the same story as the others offered to make similar arrangements for him to see Dee. Surprisingly, Alan declined. He’d come here for a holiday and certainly didn’t intend to spend it visiting someone in the police station. He’d either wait for her to be released or...
    Thank God, thought Henry, one of them sensible enough to let himself off the hook.
    This was Dee’s third day as a guest of the local constabulary and she was becoming stir crazy. The news that one of her so-called lovers had decided to look elsewhere for his pleasures didn’t please her either.
    “Him no care I in trouble! Him no good heart. I no go with him any more!” she sulked. ”Maybe I just leave here. I no like!”

    “Listen,” admonished Henry,” I wish I could change places – it would be a welcome rest! I’m going through hell here trying to get you out of this mess and all you can do is moan! If you don’t behave yourself I’ll just bugger off and leave you to sort your own mess out!”
    His outburst stunned her and she acquiesced, thanking him for being such a good friend and begging him not to desert her in her hour of need.
    The days wore on, with Henry juggling visits so that the two boys could meet with her and make sure that Charlie could do so without confronting Num again and stirring up trouble. He saw the foot-loose and fancy-free Alan around the bars and was happy that he needn’t worry about him any more. The stayer was Charlie. She was becoming more and more fractious and actually wanted an apology from the police and compensation for wrongful arrest! Henry had to promise Num five thousand Baht more to keep him from reacting to the harridan’s barrage of insults. This was becoming expensive.
    Christmas thankfully came, and went but Henry didn’t enjoy it one little bit so much on tenterhooks was he all the time. The two boys, October and February left as per scheduled, leaving a fair chunk of money between them with Uncle Henry to get Dee out of trouble. As soon as they left Henry arranged for Dee to leave Num’s ‘hotel’ but Charlie’s feminist ego was not assuaged by this and it took Dee’s feminine wiles to keep her from creating mayhem.
    Charlie too finally left just before the New Year and Henry was at last able to breathe a sigh of relief. Dee sought out Alan who’d been having a jolly old time but came back to her like a lamb and treated her to a splendid gold necklace to compensate for his MCP behaviour. So, all was sweetness and light once more.
    Dee had Henry write letters to Rob and Peter thanking them for the money they’d left and asking them to let her know at least a month in advance the next time they came in order that she might devote her entire time to them.
    Henry celebrated New Year’s eve at his bar, happy that he had circumnavigated disaster for Dee. All in all, Dee hadn’t come out of the experience at all badly. Ten thousand Baht from the two boys, a gold necklace worth at least that much again from the recalcitrant Alan and even the formidable ballbreaker had left her five grand. Even after paying Num five grand for his trouble she was still well ahead. She wanted to split her ill-gotten gains with Henry but he would hear none of it.
    “It was an...Experience,” he finally found the word he was looking for. “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world!”
    He lounged on his bar and supped his tenth large Gin, listening to the firecrackers ‘crack and crackle’ in the New Year, his mind full of nothing but relief from tension.
    “Is there someone called Henry here?” asked a voice from the dim portals of his bar. “I’m Hans. I was told at Noi bar that...”
    Henry’s head sagged onto his chest. “Bugger off! he yelled and sank into the welcoming arms of Mother Gordon’s.

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