she told Grace? Perhaps she had become swept up in the new relationship: it certainly looked intense in the photos. She had never seen Kirsty like that with anyone.
She looked around the room. Its sleek fittings and decor had lost their appeal now that she knew Kirsty wouldn’t be coming. She spent enough time sitting in hotel rooms on work trips that she saw no appeal in spending any more of her free time in one. Flinging the covers back, she shuffled down the bed and tried to stand with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. Her indignant rage helped her along. So Kirsty was having so much fun that she couldn’t be bothered to come and meet Grace? She’d make her own fun.
She walked into the marble bathroom and turned on the shower. The power still surprised her: it was better than her shower at home. She stepped in and scrubbed at her hair, trying to shake off the hurt and disappointment she felt. She had taken all this time off. I might as well make the most of it , she thought.
Drying off and wrapping a towel around her wet hair, she sat down on the bed and opened the to-do list she had compiled for Bangkok and synced to her phone.
Chapter 11
Kirsty awoke again, feeling less groggy than before. She was in the same room, still restrained. The room was bright, as before, but there was no indication whether it was night or day. She listened carefully to the sounds that wafted in from outside, but they told her nothing. Not that it made a difference. She might have been trapped there for hours or several weeks: she had no clue.
The room felt different now. Along with the lingering odour, she could feel the clammy moisture clinging to her skin. She thought hard. She still had no idea how she had come to be here. She had tried to piece her memories together, but it was like trying to make sandcastles from dry sand.
She remembered Laos; how she and Grant had travelled the country, before arriving back in Vientiane for their flight to Bangkok. Had they taken the flight? Where was Grant? She felt like the information she needed was staring her in the face, but no matter how hard she focussed, she couldn’t remember.
She had slept deeply since she’d first woken here, waking infrequently. Confused at first, she would try to kick-start her fuzzy brain into action, before unknowingly drifting off, and repeating the whole process again, a few hours, maybe even days later, she wasn’t sure. She hadn’t seen anyone since she’d been here; at least, she didn’t remember seeing anyone. Her cries had gotten louder since the first time, but no one ever answered. Once, she thought she heard the music in the next room get louder, but she was starting to distrust her own senses.
She tried to sit up. The pain in her head, while slightly duller now, still throbbed sharply. Her eyes were still swollen and her vision unfocussed. She tried in vain to lift her head, grunting from the exertion, but nothing happened. This time though, she managed to tilt her head forward a fraction, far enough to see more of the opposite wall of the room. It was lined with wardrobe doors that reached the ceiling, greyish, like the rest of the room. It told her nothing new about her location.
Frustrated and impatient for answers now, she tried to ignore the pain, and turned her head slowly to the right. She started. She wasn’t alone, as she had thought. She blinked several times, long, rolling blinks to clear the fuzziness from her vision. She opened her eyes again at the same time as she felt pressure on her right shoulder. Everything turned fuzzy again.
Traffic was gridlocked as usual, but the day was bright and sunny, and Grace felt herself relax in the back of the taxi. First up was Wat Pho temple. She had heard about it from a colleague who had adored the mythical lions and brightly-coloured floral tiles. She wasn’t disappointed when she finally walked through the gates, renting a sarong from a saffron-robed monk to cover her
She looked around the room. Its sleek fittings and decor had lost their appeal now that she knew Kirsty wouldn’t be coming. She spent enough time sitting in hotel rooms on work trips that she saw no appeal in spending any more of her free time in one. Flinging the covers back, she shuffled down the bed and tried to stand with as much enthusiasm as she could muster. Her indignant rage helped her along. So Kirsty was having so much fun that she couldn’t be bothered to come and meet Grace? She’d make her own fun.
She walked into the marble bathroom and turned on the shower. The power still surprised her: it was better than her shower at home. She stepped in and scrubbed at her hair, trying to shake off the hurt and disappointment she felt. She had taken all this time off. I might as well make the most of it , she thought.
Drying off and wrapping a towel around her wet hair, she sat down on the bed and opened the to-do list she had compiled for Bangkok and synced to her phone.
Chapter 11
Kirsty awoke again, feeling less groggy than before. She was in the same room, still restrained. The room was bright, as before, but there was no indication whether it was night or day. She listened carefully to the sounds that wafted in from outside, but they told her nothing. Not that it made a difference. She might have been trapped there for hours or several weeks: she had no clue.
The room felt different now. Along with the lingering odour, she could feel the clammy moisture clinging to her skin. She thought hard. She still had no idea how she had come to be here. She had tried to piece her memories together, but it was like trying to make sandcastles from dry sand.
She remembered Laos; how she and Grant had travelled the country, before arriving back in Vientiane for their flight to Bangkok. Had they taken the flight? Where was Grant? She felt like the information she needed was staring her in the face, but no matter how hard she focussed, she couldn’t remember.
She had slept deeply since she’d first woken here, waking infrequently. Confused at first, she would try to kick-start her fuzzy brain into action, before unknowingly drifting off, and repeating the whole process again, a few hours, maybe even days later, she wasn’t sure. She hadn’t seen anyone since she’d been here; at least, she didn’t remember seeing anyone. Her cries had gotten louder since the first time, but no one ever answered. Once, she thought she heard the music in the next room get louder, but she was starting to distrust her own senses.
She tried to sit up. The pain in her head, while slightly duller now, still throbbed sharply. Her eyes were still swollen and her vision unfocussed. She tried in vain to lift her head, grunting from the exertion, but nothing happened. This time though, she managed to tilt her head forward a fraction, far enough to see more of the opposite wall of the room. It was lined with wardrobe doors that reached the ceiling, greyish, like the rest of the room. It told her nothing new about her location.
Frustrated and impatient for answers now, she tried to ignore the pain, and turned her head slowly to the right. She started. She wasn’t alone, as she had thought. She blinked several times, long, rolling blinks to clear the fuzziness from her vision. She opened her eyes again at the same time as she felt pressure on her right shoulder. Everything turned fuzzy again.
Traffic was gridlocked as usual, but the day was bright and sunny, and Grace felt herself relax in the back of the taxi. First up was Wat Pho temple. She had heard about it from a colleague who had adored the mythical lions and brightly-coloured floral tiles. She wasn’t disappointed when she finally walked through the gates, renting a sarong from a saffron-robed monk to cover her
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