not so impressed with the two hundred and fifty thousand Kip she collected after seeing how fast it could run through her fingers.
At the Thai embassy, Craig collected his form, filled it in, stuck his two photos on it and waited for his number to be called. When it was, he went up to the counter. The immigration official looked over his document quickly and said:
“Marriage certificate.”
Craig called for Lek, who came running, as she hated to keep officials waiting. They talked. Lek looked in her bag. Then said something and the official said:
“Next!” A man tried to take Craig’s place at the counter.
“Hey! Stop pushing! Wait your bloody turn! Excuse me, what is the problem with my application?”
“Your wife no have marriage certificate and no have house book. I cannot gib you non-immigrant ‘O’ visa. Next!”
“No, wait! So what can I do about it?”
“You can go back and get all your papers I need. Next!”
“But that will take a day or more...”
“Not my problem. I must see papers. You not have papers. What can I do? Next!”
“Isn’t there anything I can do? How about if I change my application for a two-month tourist visa?”
“No can do, I know what you want now already. I cannot do that. Next!”
“This is crazy!”
“Send your wife home get. You can go too or wait here in Vientiane, now please go. Next!”
Craig turned to glare at the man who was hovering behind him. He backed off a little.
“OK, I can accept fax of papers this one time, because I see you have long visa before. Now go. Next!”
Craig bumped the next guy in the queue as he exited the line.
“Isn’t it bloody marvellous? Why do I need to prove I’m married to get that visa. Your ID has your name ‘Williams’ on it; your passport has bloody ‘Williams’ in it. It’s not a very common name in Thailand, is it? Do they think I searched Thailand for a Thai woman called Williams so I could get a ninety-day visa instead of a sixty-day one? Jesus! That makes me so angry. Well, now we are stuck here. Tomorrow is Friday, so if we hand the forms in then, we won’t get them back until Monday. OK, back to the hotel.
“And we don’t have any money! Shit, shit, shit, shit, sodding shit!”
Back in their room, Lek phoned her mother to go into their house to get the documents and fax them to their hotel. Her mother was pretty worried about taking on such a hi-tech venture, but she assured Lek that she would get it done with someone’s help. Meanwhile, Craig Skyped his friend in Barry, Blond Billy, and asked him to lend them £300 for a week or so. Billy agreed to wire the money care of the hotel.
The money actually arrived before the paperwork from Thailand, but they eventually had everything they needed and Lek went back to the bureau de change with $420 to exchange some of it for a million Kip. Holding a million Kip had as much effect on her as two hundred and fifty thousand had the day before.
In the afternoon, they went for a walk along the Mekong again and then back to the hotel. It was really too hot to do much and there didn’t seem much to do anyway.
In the evening, they ate at a different, but similar outdoor restaurant and the bill at nine thirty was about the same. Lek concluded that Vientiane was a lot more expensive than Bangkok and if she could have gone home the next day she would have, but there was still the visa to get.
The visa application went smoothly enough, although the transaction could not be completed in one day. It has to be applied for on one day and collected the following business day, which meant staying until Monday. They both reckoned that they would have had enough of Vientiane by then to make going back home no hardship.
Lao people were friendly enough and Vientiane was easier for Westerners that most Thai cities including most areas of Bangkok, but there was so little to do and it was so expensive.
On Monday morning, they got up just in time not to miss breakfast, ate slowly and then checked out. They booked a taxi to the bridge but asked him to wait at the embassy first. The embassy opened for the collection of visas after lunch at one-thirty, so they had plenty of time to start their long-winded return trip home.
Sitting in the bus to Phitsanulok, both were analysing their ‘holiday’. Both thought that it had gone well considering and both felt better for having spent so much time alone away from Lek’s distractions in the village. As she felt the tablets kicking in again, Lek reached out under the blanket and took Craig’s hand and he squeezed it back.
3 The Death of a Neighbour
Lek and Craig both benefited from their trip to Laos in that their relationship grew closer and they started spending some time with each other again. Craig still had to work all day, but Lek made a point of meeting him at Nong’s for a couple of hours at five o’clock every day, whereas these meetings had dropped to once of twice a week over the previous year and even then Lek had spent most of the time on the phone talking to her daughter in Bangkok or her cousin in Pattaya.
Craig had actually wished she would stop coming, because he found it distracting and unsettling to have her talking loudly in a language he couldn’t understand to people he couldn’t see when he was out for a relaxing break between two long sessions of work. More than once he had reminded her that it was a mobile phone, so why didn’t she ‘walk over there’ and chat to her family.
It hadn’t helped their relationship any, but it had been at rock bottom anyway.
Now she was being ‘nice’ to him again, but he couldn’t help wondering how long it would last. Craig was sure that either she was menopausal or worried about something and the ‘something’ could only be her daughter or money or both.
“How are your web sites doing, my dear?”
“I have a hundred and fifty-two now, but the global recession is still hitting them badly,” he replied somewhat shocked at the sudden interest. This was probably the second time she had asked about his work in eight years.
“I’m thinking of scaling back to a hundred web sites or less, because I cannot write enough articles every month to keep them all looking fresh. At one five-hundred-word article a week for each site that would mean writing twenty-two articles a day or eleven thousand words a day. That is unsustainable...”
Craig looked up but he could see that he had lost her.
“If I am going to be writing... Lek, Lek! If I am going to be writing eleven thousand words a day for web sites, I might as well write a book, mightn’t I?” he joked.
“Yes, dear. You could write a book on Thailand. Write some stories. Maybe they sell better than web sites.”
“I was joking. I’ve never written a book in my life... I wouldn’t know where to start. Writing five-hundred-word articles on interesting topics is easy enough, when you get into the swing of it. I can do five a day for a few days,
