Brief Encounter on a Beach

Koh Tao now seemed grey, its little port chaotic, not charming. She watched the rickety beach houses and food stalls go past in a blur through the dusty window of the taxi.

Eden was gone. True.

Didn't she mention planets and orbits last night, before they slept together their first and, as it turned out, their only time? But she'd heard Eden cry her name, kissed the oils of her desire and shared her breath for one night.

A privilege then.

Hannah found Eden's book on the table and decided to read it. She'd sit in the same seat, hear the same birdsong, watch the same sea.

She sighed, realising melancholy served no purpose.

Hannah leaned onto the bamboo rail of the veranda. There were a couple of days left, she had more scuba dives booked and the warmth of the afternoon deserved a cold drink. Eden would approve.

Taking the book as an excuse for solitary drinking, she wove her way through the palm fronds and gurgling rockpools, barefoot to the beach.

The casual waterfront drifted by as a peaceful backdrop to reading until a bronzed young man in only a sarong began a sword dance a few yards away. Hannah wondered if it was some theatre performance, but he was on his own, lost in a bubble of ridiculous vanity.

She silently giggled to herself, her shaking shoulders betraying her mirth.

"He's a knobhead isn't he?" A voice said behind her. A man's voice, English, educated, in his late forties, self assured, at ease.

She turned a page indignantly, not wanting conversation. She just wanted to be alone.

"He just wants to get laid, like everyone else, but he thought Tua and the Elephant was a guide book. What are you reading, by the way? Miss? Miss Pretending not to hear but forgot your earbuds."

Hannah was piqued, turning to glare at the man lounging a few feet away to realise he wasn't an unattractive late forties, traveller brown with silvered temples.

"Ah, so you are English," he laughed. "Forgive my intrusion. I'm Charlie and I'm bored today."

"Perhaps you should find a book?" Hannah replied, folding the page closed on her lap.

"I only do colouring-in books and forgot my crayons." He whined, jangling the ice cubes in his glass.

"There's a whole beach here. Find a stick," Hannah muttered.

"I'm not a bloody dog!" Charlie snorted.

"I mean draw something with a stick," she explained.

Charlie found a stick then drew a large phallus in the sand in front of her. She was on the point of leaving, but he waved her back down.

"Not done yet," he smirked.

He turned the dick into a comedy face -- a sailor with a pipe and bulging eyes. A parrot and a laughing whale appeared next in the sand.

Hannah was disarmed and tried to hide her smile.

"Can I buy you supper?" Charlie enquired, swinging the stick away.

"Why?" Hannah asked suspiciously.

"I'd like to show you my etchings." He winked, twirling an imaginary moustache.

"Are you a psychopath? Any form with axes or shallow graves?" Hannah teased.

"You're a character. What's your name?"

"Hannah."

"Hello Hannah. Should you accept, come and find me at the bar later." Charlie kept his distance respectful.

"Are you always at a bar, Charlie?"

"Only this one, Hannah. I own it. That's a great book by the way. Love Margaret Atwood."

"Maybe later." Hannah re-opened the page.

Despite her better judgement, she later wandered through the evening twinkle of beach lights to Charlie's bar. He spotted her immediately and waved her to a table, joining her with fresh glasses and a bottle.

He charmed her with stories, made her laugh but mostly he made her feel special and washed away the disappointment of losing Eden. Sizzling seafood arrived, deliciously spiced and they toasted 'absent friends'.

"You mustn't let your friend leaving ruin your holiday," he ventured, topping up her glass.

"You're right," she brightened. "What do you suggest?"

"A mosquito-free house with a guest room. Those beach huts are notorious." Charlie nodded over his shoulder. "No funny business, seriously. I'm enjoying your company -- is that so strange? Tell the dive centre where you're going, for safety. Be sensible."

"I'm not sure I want to be sensible, Charlie," Hannah thought aloud, sharing a glance with him.

"Pancakes for breakfast?"

"Promise to remember my name tomorrow?"

"How could I forget that, Jess?" he teased, taking her hand as she rose.

Charlie made great pancakes.