In the midst of all this intrigue, my mother fell desperately ill. Just before she died, she took my hand, and with tremendous effort, exacted a promise that I would look after Prince Yot Fa and Prince Si Sin. I have wondered since, given both my mother’s robust health and the event that would follow, whether in fact she had been murdered. It is a bitter thought that coils around my heart like a cobra.
It was Prince Thianracha, finally, who resolved the issue of the kingship and brought the political turmoil to an end, at least for a time. Recognizing that our enemies would take advantage of a leader less Ayutthaya, the good prince withdrew to a monastery to lead the exemplary life of a Buddhist monk. Invited to reign by the priests, astrologers, and government ministers, Yot Fa ascended the throne with great ceremony. Given that he had not reached the age of the cutting of the topknot, however, his mother, Lady Si Sudachan, became regent. At that time, in a most ominous way, an earthquake racked our city.
Sometimes I think that because there is a certain sameness to big cities everywhere—oh, there are differences, architectural details, setting, and so on, but essentially every metropolis shares something fundamental—those of us from the West who visit cities like Bangkok delude ourselves into believing we understand the place. Or worse yet, that we share a common understanding with those whose city it is, a belief that they view the universe from the same perspective we do.
It is a pitfall I try to avoid. Doing business around the world teaches you over and over again the folly of assumptions like these. But still I am lulled, only to be jolted out of my complacency, usually by the smallest of details, the patronizing comment of a fellow farang, or insignificant events, on the surface at least, that remind me just how ignorant I am.
“I’m so glad you’ve come,” David Ferguson said. “And you must be Jennifer. Terrific! Please come in. The ceremony starts in about ten minutes.”
“We won’t be able to stay long,” I said, taking him aside. “Jennifer’s beau’s father died yesterday. She’s really upset, and I don’t know how long she’ll feel like staying. It’s a little complicated. She had a fight with her boyfriend, and now this happened, and she isn’t sure what to do.”
“What happened to his father?” Ferguson said.
“Massive heart attack, apparently. Jennifer found him.”
“Too bad,” he said. “Let’s hope this will take her mind off it. What’s her beau’s name, by the way?”
“Chat Chaiwong,” I said.
“Not the Chaiwongs,” he exclaimed. “Thaksin died. It was in all the papers.”
“Those Chaiwongs,” I said.
“Good lord,” he said. “I didn’t realize that. I suppose you never did mention their names. Why should you? That is quite the family your Jennifer has hooked up with.”
“They’re certainly wealthy,” I said. “She finds it all a bit much. This may be academic, of course. As I said, she and Chat had a fight. I’m not sure whether it’s a permanent rift or not.”
“I do have dealings with Ayutthaya Trading on a fairly regular basis,” Ferguson said. “They’re regularly courted by U.S. companies trying to set up joint ventures here. I’ve visited them with our trade people. Rather fabulous offices.”
“Speaking of fabulous,” I said, looking around. “This place certainly qualifies.” David’s new home was an old one, on stilts, with a steeply peaked roof and wide, decorative barge poles that curved gracefully at the ends. To top it off, it was right on a klong, with a staircase that went down into the water, so that visitors could arrive by boat. At one time it had probably been home to a family of ten, but it was really quite small. The front half was veranda, screened in, and at the back was a very small kitchen, a bathroom only partly roughed in, and a small bedroom with an alcove off it that overlooked what I assumed would eventually be a tiny garden. The walls were all paneled, and the door thresholds raised so that you had to step up and over them.
“It is great, isn’t it? I’m really pleased to have found it.”
“The teak is wonderful. It will look really beautiful once it’s been cleaned up. And I love the openness of it.”
“I think so, too. The place is nowhere near finished yet, and it’s small, I grant you, but I love it. It’s the first house I’ve had since I left Nebraska. I feel truly at home in Thailand. I don’t know why.”
“Didn’t you say you were born here?”
“Yes, but I left rather young. And even if I was born here, I’m a farang. You’re always a farang if you’re a white guy, even if you live here all your life. Still, this is where I want to stay.”
“I almost forgot,” I said. “This is for you,” I said, handing him a bottle of scotch. “And this is for the house.” I handed him a package wrapped in handmade mulberry paper.
“Thanks,” he said. “You didn’t need to do this, but I appreciate it. Aren’t these great?” he said, as he opened the package. “They’re for my spirit house, aren’t they? The little cart and the elephants. These are extraordinary. Where did you find them?”
“Robert Fitzgerald,” I said.
“You met him, did you? Was he the portrait painter?”
“No, his son, the wood-carver.”
“Did you learn much from him?”
“Unfortunately not.”
“Too bad. These are way too good for my spirit house. I just bought one in the local equivalent of a hardware store. I was informed that the decision had been made as to where it should go, and I wasn’t ready. I bought the first one I could find.”
“Well if you’re ever in the market for a special one, go see Fitzgerald. His are amazing. Now where’s Jennifer?”
“I think she’s just sitting on the edge of veranda looking at the klong,” he said. “We can’t have her moping. I’ll introduce her to some of my younger friends in a minute. Come and meet my aunts, would you?” he said to us both, guiding us over to two elderly woman seated in deck chairs. “This is Auntie Lil,” he said, introducing me to one of them, a rather plump older woman of about eighty in a pretty blue dress. “And this is Auntie Nell,” he said, indicating her companion, a slim and still pretty woman about the same age. “Aunt Lily and her best friend Nelly raised me. They made me the man I am today.”
“Which is a shiftless wanderer who has finally got himself a home,” a tall blond man said. “Something most of us do long before we turn fifty. Now if he’d just find himself a decent woman, he’d be all set. I’m Charles Benson. I work at the Embassy with Dave here.”
“I’m Lara McClintoch,” I said, shaking his hand. “And this is my niece, Jennifer.”
“Lara. Jennifer. Those are pretty names,” Aunt Lily said. “Is this your first trip to Thailand?”
“Yes,” Jennifer said. “But Aunt Lara has been here many times. Is it yours?”
“Oh no,” she said. “I lived here for a number of years. It’s Nell’s first, though.”
“Now don’t you two be rushing down to the Pat Pong,” Charles said. “You’d better stay out of trouble while you’re here.”
Lily giggled. Nell did not. I found Charles rather patronizing.
“When did you live here?” I asked.
“A long time ago,” she said. “Just after the war. It’s quite different now. Bangkok is just another big city, like New York.”