The Backpacker by John Harris Page A

before we were all in position.
    â€˜Is what not?’
    â€˜A black man’s... ’
    â€˜Why d’you think Suzy lost interest after one night?’ He stopped walking backwards and whispered, ‘Blonde chicks are the worst. All they want is dick, black dick, and the bigger the better.’ He raised his voice. ‘Now stop talking and throw that damn thing.’
    I was just about to throw the frisbee when I saw the ladyman from the restaurant coming down the beach towards us. Oh no, not me! Why now? Any illusion I may have had that she was possibly looking for someone else was shattered as she drew closer, skipping along with both forearms perpendicular to her body, limp wrists dangling uselessly on the end. ‘Lor’ John!’
    Dave looked at me. ‘Oh shit, man, it’s that guy-thing from... ’
    â€˜I know who it is, Dave!’
    Everyone on the beach watched the Thai run down the sand towards me, old hands laughing, while the new arrivals were just open-mouthed at the sight. To take the edge off my embarrassment I exaggerated it, bowing down and holding one hand to my forehead. It brought a few laughs so I went a stage further and behaved like an ostrich, digging a hole in the sand and putting my head in it.
    â€˜Lor’ John, ha’ massage for you.’
    I looked up, shaking the sand from my ears, my face burning with embarrassment. ‘What?’
    â€˜No here,’ she panted, coming to a stop beside me and theatrically flicking her hair, ‘in you loom.’ A roar of laughter went up from the people who’d heard and my face caught fire. The ladyman looked around, angry at the childish behaviour. ‘No! Massage in you loom.’
    â€˜Oh!’ I clarified so that everyone could here. ‘There is a message for me in my room.’ Then she blew the whole thing by calling me ‘hansoon’ and stroking my head. ‘OK, OK, thanks.’ She turned and jogged off up the beach towards the restaurant. Unfortunately the restaurant was right behind our huts so I couldn’t immediately go back to find out what the message was. If I did everyone would think that I was going off with her.
    We threw the frisbee around for five minutes, just long enough for people to get back to their sunbathing, before I made my excuses and left, using a long, tortuous route to get back to my hut.
    Looking around the corner to see that no one on the beach was watching, I darted up onto the wooden veranda, key at the ready. Dave was already there, swinging silently in my hammock.
    He looked at his watch. ‘Ten minutes?’
    I stopped, one hand on the padlock. ‘What happened to the girls?’
    â€˜What do you think happened? They took one look at her ladyship and ran a mile. Anyway, I want to know what you’re up to, Lord John.’ He swung his legs over and jumped out of the net. ‘Can’t let you have all the fun around here.’
    â€˜I told you, Dave, I’m not a bloody lord.’ The padlock snapped open and fell into my upturned palm. ‘So don’t keep going on about it.’
    Dave followed me into the darkened room. ‘Hmm, not bad,’ he said looking around. ‘Cleaner than mine. Wow, man, you got a video camera!’
    â€˜Actually, it’s now a broken video camera. Not much use.’ I shut the door and switched on the light.
    â€˜Shit, why don’t you get it fixed?’
    â€˜Where?’
    He shrugged. ‘Bangkok?’
    â€˜I did think about it,’ I said, throwing the key onto the bed, ‘they’ve got a service centre there. But what with one thing and another, there just wasn’t time.’
    â€˜Shame. I could put this to good use out here.’ He pretended to film around the room and turned it on me. ‘Behind you.’
    I spun around. Stuck to the door in exactly the same way that the first note had been was another piece of paper with a message written in