footprints on the baking slabs
.
‘
I think he looks very nice
,’
a girl
’
s voice opines from the other side of the patio
. ‘
Very Californian
.’
‘
You would, sweetheart
,’
says Peel
.
Melody Peel, her honey-blonde hair scraped back into a ponytail, is lying on one of the sunbeds. She is eighteen years old, wearing a red bikini. She slowly raises her head so she can scrutinize her father and his associates through oversized, red-framed mirror sunglasses
.
‘
You want to get some UV lotion on, girl
,’
Peel remarks
.
‘
Maybe I
’
ll get Mr Vos to rub it on for me
,’
his daughter replies
.
‘
Mr Vos is charged with upholding standards of public decency
,’
Peel points out solemnly
. ‘
And do me a favour, will you?
’
He gestures to an iPod dock that is pumping out Kanye West
. ‘
Turn that crap down. I can
’
t hear myself think
.’
‘
Tell me about it
,’
Melody says tartly, sticking out her tongue and sliding from the lounger
. ‘
I
’
m going to check on the horses, away from you boring men
.’
She picks up her iPod dock and kisses her father on the top of his head
. ‘
Love you, Daddy
,’
she says
.
‘
Love you too, sweetheart
.’
‘
Nice to meet you, Mr Vos
,’
she says coquettishly.
‘
Likewise
,’
Vos says
.
Melody smiles, then sashays through a set of open French windows into the cool of the house
.
Peel chuckles
. ‘
Eighteen years old. Fuck me, where did the time go, eh?
’
‘
It
’
ll be boyfriends next
,’
Al says
. ‘
Then the fun really starts
.’
‘
Yeah, well, we
’
ll see about that
,’
Peel says, all trace of humour suddenly gone from his demeanour
.
There
’
s a moment of awkward silence. Then Al says
, ‘
You should think yourself lucky, Jack. My Maggie was still a bloody tearaway when she was eighteen. She never showed any respect to me or her mother
.’
Peel glances disparagingly at the razor wire jammed between Al
’
s shapeless buttocks, then winks conspiratorially at Vos
. ‘
I
’
m not fucking surprised
.’
‘
It
’
s a thong
,’
Al retorts
. ‘
And I
’
ll tell you something, they
’
re all the rage
.’
Peel snorts back
. ‘
I think I
’
ll give your Janet a call and tell her to take you back. Ever since she kicked you out, you
’
ve been under the delusion that you
’
re twenty-one again and with a waistline to match
.’
For a while they sit and watch the horses in the distant paddock. Then a figure slips out through the French windows. Kimnai Su, Jack Peel
’
s third wife, is soberly dressed in a white blouse and silk sarong. She moves towards her husband on dainty, sandalled feet, carrying three drinks on a silver tray
.
‘
Here she is
,’
Peel exclaims, reaching out his hand and placing it gently on Kimnai Su
’
s backside
. ‘
Why don
’
t you serve our guests first, sweetheart? You remember Mr Vos from our wedding, don
’
t you?
’
‘
Please to make acquaintance
,’
she says, offering Vos a chilled gin and tonic from the tray
.
‘ “
Please to make acquaintance
”,’
Peel says, chuckling
. ‘
Don
’
t you just love that? You ever been to Thailand, Mr Vos?
’
‘
Can
’
t say I have, Jack
.’
‘
You should go. Beautiful country. Beautiful people. They call it the Land of Smiles, you know that?
’
Kimnai Su is a tiny woman of around forty, with plain, almost harsh features. Vos takes the drink and thanks her, but she does not meet his gaze and there is no flicker of a smile on her face. She dutifully serves Blaylock and her husband and then dis-appears back into the house
.
‘
I know what you
’
re thinking, Mr Vos
.’
‘
What
’
s that, Jack?
’
‘
You
’
re thinking: stupid old bastard getting himself hitched to some money-grabbing Thai bride
.’
‘
Not for a minute
,’
Vos says, although he has been thinking precisely that
.
‘
Well, I used to think the same thing
,’
Peel says
. ‘
But I
’
ll tell you this: I wouldn
’
t swap Kimnai Su for a hundred of the
.
‘
I think he looks very nice
,’
a girl
’
s voice opines from the other side of the patio
. ‘
Very Californian
.’
‘
You would, sweetheart
,’
says Peel
.
Melody Peel, her honey-blonde hair scraped back into a ponytail, is lying on one of the sunbeds. She is eighteen years old, wearing a red bikini. She slowly raises her head so she can scrutinize her father and his associates through oversized, red-framed mirror sunglasses
.
‘
You want to get some UV lotion on, girl
,’
Peel remarks
.
‘
Maybe I
’
ll get Mr Vos to rub it on for me
,’
his daughter replies
.
‘
Mr Vos is charged with upholding standards of public decency
,’
Peel points out solemnly
. ‘
And do me a favour, will you?
’
He gestures to an iPod dock that is pumping out Kanye West
. ‘
Turn that crap down. I can
’
t hear myself think
.’
‘
Tell me about it
,’
Melody says tartly, sticking out her tongue and sliding from the lounger
. ‘
I
’
m going to check on the horses, away from you boring men
.’
She picks up her iPod dock and kisses her father on the top of his head
. ‘
Love you, Daddy
,’
she says
.
‘
Love you too, sweetheart
.’
‘
Nice to meet you, Mr Vos
,’
she says coquettishly.
‘
Likewise
,’
Vos says
.
Melody smiles, then sashays through a set of open French windows into the cool of the house
.
Peel chuckles
. ‘
Eighteen years old. Fuck me, where did the time go, eh?
’
‘
It
’
ll be boyfriends next
,’
Al says
. ‘
Then the fun really starts
.’
‘
Yeah, well, we
’
ll see about that
,’
Peel says, all trace of humour suddenly gone from his demeanour
.
There
’
s a moment of awkward silence. Then Al says
, ‘
You should think yourself lucky, Jack. My Maggie was still a bloody tearaway when she was eighteen. She never showed any respect to me or her mother
.’
Peel glances disparagingly at the razor wire jammed between Al
’
s shapeless buttocks, then winks conspiratorially at Vos
. ‘
I
’
m not fucking surprised
.’
‘
It
’
s a thong
,’
Al retorts
. ‘
And I
’
ll tell you something, they
’
re all the rage
.’
Peel snorts back
. ‘
I think I
’
ll give your Janet a call and tell her to take you back. Ever since she kicked you out, you
’
ve been under the delusion that you
’
re twenty-one again and with a waistline to match
.’
For a while they sit and watch the horses in the distant paddock. Then a figure slips out through the French windows. Kimnai Su, Jack Peel
’
s third wife, is soberly dressed in a white blouse and silk sarong. She moves towards her husband on dainty, sandalled feet, carrying three drinks on a silver tray
.
‘
Here she is
,’
Peel exclaims, reaching out his hand and placing it gently on Kimnai Su
’
s backside
. ‘
Why don
’
t you serve our guests first, sweetheart? You remember Mr Vos from our wedding, don
’
t you?
’
‘
Please to make acquaintance
,’
she says, offering Vos a chilled gin and tonic from the tray
.
‘ “
Please to make acquaintance
”,’
Peel says, chuckling
. ‘
Don
’
t you just love that? You ever been to Thailand, Mr Vos?
’
‘
Can
’
t say I have, Jack
.’
‘
You should go. Beautiful country. Beautiful people. They call it the Land of Smiles, you know that?
’
Kimnai Su is a tiny woman of around forty, with plain, almost harsh features. Vos takes the drink and thanks her, but she does not meet his gaze and there is no flicker of a smile on her face. She dutifully serves Blaylock and her husband and then dis-appears back into the house
.
‘
I know what you
’
re thinking, Mr Vos
.’
‘
What
’
s that, Jack?
’
‘
You
’
re thinking: stupid old bastard getting himself hitched to some money-grabbing Thai bride
.’
‘
Not for a minute
,’
Vos says, although he has been thinking precisely that
.
‘
Well, I used to think the same thing
,’
Peel says
. ‘
But I
’
ll tell you this: I wouldn
’
t swap Kimnai Su for a hundred of the
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