Page 38 of Companion Required

“Does nothing for me.”

“Me neither,” said Len, before his curious gaze turned to Kieran. “You wouldn’t look out of place, though. Glad to see Kennedy’s made a good choice this year—for once. Can I ask you a question?”

“Um, yes, I think.”

Len laughed at that.

“Do you work for Kennedy?” asked Len. “As well as the two of you being together.”

“What? No. Why would you ask that?”

“It’s just, he brought an ex-employee called Ollie on the cruise a couple of times. And I also overheard you talking to Steph about Kennedy’s business, and you sounded really well informed. You were talking about the pros and cons of becoming a public-listed company. And some of the steps involved in setting the wheels in motion. Just sounded as though you might already be working for him.”

Kieran leant back, enjoying the veiled praise.

“Well, I’m definitely not working for him, but my degree course covered the steps businesses need to take in becoming publicly listed in the UK, so the information is fairly fresh in my head. Although my real interest is in e-commerce. Sorry if I come across as a smart-ass. That wasn’t my intention.”

“Are you kidding? Kennedy’s last squeeze seemed more obsessed with Kylie Jenner and some show calledRiverdale. So, did Kennedy give you his signature blow job card?” asked Len, his voice lowering, which, considering the noise on the coach was completely unnecessary.

“His what?”

“Black jack. BJ. Did he give you the black jack card, yet?”

Kieran threw himself back in his sat, unable to stop the loud laugh bursting from him. Even though they’d not heard Len’s comment, a couple of other passengers turned their heads and grinned at Kieran’s reaction. In fairness, Kennedy had told him the card usually held another meaning.

“I take that as a yes. Don’t tell me you’ve used it already.”

“No,” said Kieran, wiping at his eyes. “No, I haven’t used the card.”

“You will, though. Kennedy gives mind-boggling blow jobs.”

“Oh, yes?” said Kieran, eyeing Len suspiciously. “And just how would you know that?”

“No, no,” said Len, grinning. “Not me. God, Kennedy’s a nice guy, but he’s not my type at all. But let’s just say, the boyfriend after Patrick, Ollie, the one he brought on the first two post-Patrick cruises, was not particularly discreet. Demanded a minimum of four cards on the second cruise. And, if you’ll excuse the expression, he gave us all a blow-by-blow account, one evening at the bar.”

Once again, Kieran burst into laughter.

* * * *

When they pulled up in the temple car park, the sun hung low in the sky, illuminating everything in bright golden sunlight. Ten or so other tourist coaches were already parked there. Most of their busload seemed eager to climb the stairs to the golden Buddha and the panoramic lookout point beyond. Kieran excused himself from his small group, citing a headache caused by mild dehydration, and wandered off to buy a bottle of water—which was a ruse, of course, because he wanted to be alone. Returning to the heart of the temple, he stopped and swigged his water, before taking in the view.

Terracotta-coloured tiles on the pavilions standing either side of the stairs leading up to the Buddha appeared freshly laid, as though they had only recently been constructed. Even the three staircases leading up to the Buddha, two of white ceramic or marble, each bordering another of deep burgundy, with gleaming golden handrails, appeared too clean, too immaculate considering the large number of daily tourists that climbed them. Maybe he was being unfair, had visited too many sombre, musty village churches in England, but the place felt less like a religious temple, and more like a custom-built tourist attraction. Until three monks in orange robes, walking together, nodded at him. Eachof them carried a large silver-liddedbowl wrapped in orange.

Okay, so maybe he was wrong.

He decided to perch in the shade of a pavilion by one of the four cross-legged golden Buddhas at the foot of the staircase. From there, he watched the world go by, as the words of the old fortune teller coming back to him.

‘You are on an island in Asia standing beneath a giant Buddha. You are waiting to meet your destiny.’

Fleetingly, he considered climbing the steps to the statue, but then realised that everyone heading up to the top via the only staircases had to pass him. Nearby, a Thai guide was talking to a small group of English-speaking tourists.

“In Thai, this called Wat Phra Yai, means Big Buddha temple. This is real working temple, with real Buddhist monk worship here. Buddha statue is twelve metre tall. Here we are on small island named Koh Farn, connected to mainland Koh Samui by causeway. Either side of stairway is half-human, half-serpent cobra called Naga, which lead up to Buddha. Not many year ago, a Dhamma wheel representing the Buddha’s teachings to the path of enlightenment was added to the image.”

Kieran stared at the group of fifteen or so tourists, four of them girls, all pretty, all with partners. Two of the party were good-looking guys, clearly a pair. Nobody really stood out. Every now and again, small groups or couples moved past him, either to scale the staircase or descend from the top. But there were no lightning bolts, no epiphanies, no sounds of swelling orchestral music. Half an hour passed like a life sentence and, very slowly, very gradually, a sinking feeling overcame him. Until he finally saw the funny side.

What the hell was he doing, he asked himself. Standing there moping, because of a comment made to him as a kid by somebody’s grandmother pretending to be a fortune teller? At twenty-nine, he really ought to wise up and learn to let some things go. After finishing off his water, he dragged himself to his feet and decided to find the his friends. Blood-red clouds illuminated the skies now, and, right on cue, Steph appeared in front of him.

“Come on, you,” she said, grinning fondly and slipping her arm into his. “Let’s get back to the ship. Kennedy’s probably missing us, and you most of all.”

And, funnily enough, that throwaway remark lifted his spirits and put a smile back on his face.

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