| General Fiction posted September 30, 2018 | Chapters: |
...13 14 -15- 16... 
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Chapter 15: Helen continues her story
A chapter in the book The French Letter
Karachi
by tfawcus
| Background Charles and Helen are delayed on their way to Givenchy, where they hope to uncover further clues to solve the mystery of the envelope that Charles acquired in the Paris Stamp Market. |
Continued from Chapter 14:
"'Bangkok? Where is that?'
"'A city in the east, many miles away. It is where mother and father spent their honeymoon. It is where her shimmering Thai silk dress came from. The one you most particularly liked.'
"'Bangkok it is, then.'"
"Is that really how you decided where to go?" I looked at her in amazement.
"Yes, pretty much. But that's enough storytelling for one night, don't you think? I'm not yet brave enough to tell you what happened next. Besides, it would spoil a beautiful evening. Come on! Bedtime!"
Chapter 15
We climbed the stairs arm-in-arm. This time, however, we made our way to our room less tipsily than we had done in Versailles, and with a greater feeling of mutual understanding and completeness. It had been a wonderful evening, and we were happy just to lie in the warmth and security of each other's arms, drifting off to sleep together.
Yet, as before, Helen's sleep was restless, and this time it was filled with sudden, staccato eruptions of wild, unintelligible words. Eventually, she awoke and grasped me to her, like a security blanket. I reached for the light and saw that her face was damp with sweat, and her eyes wide with terror.
I stroked her hair gently, and drew her in closer. "There, there. They are only nightmares. You are perfectly safe now."
"But they are so real, Charles. I don't have them often, but they almost drive me out of my wits when they come."
"Perhaps it would help if you told me about them. Sometimes, bringing ghosts out into the open can make them disappear."
"I couldn't get the picture out of my head, - that evil king and the poor young innocent he seduced."
"Perhaps not quite so innocent. She was a prostitute, remember ...and certainly not poor. His gifts ended up making her a multi-millionairess. She even gained a title, Baroness Vaughan - or, as her disparagers more often called her - the Queen of the Congo."
"How do you know all that?"
I pointed to the hotel brochure by the side of our bed. "I guess I read more about the history of the place than you did. A man has to do something while his lady is titivating herself for an evening's pleasure."
Helen arched her eyebrows, but made no comment.
"Yes, but I still say she was a poor woman. People don't just become prostitutes. They are driven to it, and often by extreme circumstances and great tragedy. God! I should know."
I looked at her, aghast.
"No, not me - but someone very close to me. My sister."
I didn't know what to say, but bewilderment must have been written all over my face.
"There's no need to look at me like that, Charles. I'm not about to give you the clap. Anyway," she added mischievously, "you do have a French letter, don't you?"
"Not exactly a French letter - just a French envelope. Does that count?"
"I suppose that would depend on what was inside it."
Once again, I was embarrassed, and adroitly steered the conversation in a different direction. "What happened next, when you arrived at Jinnah International?"
"That is where the fairy-tale ended. When we got to the ticket counter and presented our passports, the Sikh official looked up and asked, 'Where are your visas?'
"'Visas?' Kayla responded in dismay. 'I didn't know we needed them.'
"'You can't fly to Bangkok without a visa. You'll have to go to the Royal Thai Consulate in the morning and make your application. They aren't all that difficult to get. If you have the right paperwork, it usually takes about a week.'
"'A week! But what are we to do in the meantime?'
"The official shrugged. 'Be careful. Parts of Karachi are dangerous.'"
"You must have both been devastated," I said. "What did you do next?"
"It was already nearly ten o'clock, so we decided to hang about the airport until dawn, then make our way to the city. Neither of us wanted to be walking the streets alone at night."
"I can well imagine."
"We spent some of our time at the airport researching, and discovered that the Consulate was in an affluent area of the city called Clifton, about 20 kilometres away. We also searched for somewhere nearby to stay, and were able to book a room at the Mashwani Guest House, a place not too expensive that had good reviews.
"Kayla was worried about money. Although we had more than $3000 in cash, she could see it quickly slipping away in airfares and accommodation. I knew that our father had made her a joint signatory on his bank account when she turned eighteen, but thought that would be of little use now.
"'I'm going to try anyway,' Kayla said. 'The bank won't know he's dead yet, and I may be able to withdraw enough Pakistani rupees to cover our expenses here, so that we can keep our American dollars for Thailand.'
"'That's illegal, isn't it?' I said.
"'Probably,' she replied, 'but what choice do we have?'
"As it turned out, she could still withdraw money and, more important, she was able to show an on-line bank statement to the consulate. One of the requirements for a visa was proving that we had enough money in an account to cover the cost of our 'holiday'. Without that, we would have been sunk.
"However, little did we realise the longer term implications of that decision."
"Yes, technically it would have been theft, and she could have been imprisoned under Pakistani law."
"I know. That's why we can never return to Pakistan, and to my beloved mountains.
"Anyway, we made the mistake of walking to our guest house. It was only about half an hour away, but the monsoon season was not quite over, and we were drenched!
"There's not much else to tell about our days there. We spent much of the time in our room, watching videos and TV, except for when we went to Clifton Beach. It was quite a novelty for us to be near water. We enjoyed watching the sun sparkling on the sea, and appreciated the soothing tranquillity of gently lapping waves." Her face brightened a bit as she added, "We even went for a camel ride one afternoon!
"Of course, the cloud of past events still hung heavily over us during those few days, as the pain of our loss gradually sank in. Grief soon turned to anger at the unfairness of fate. Why us? What had we done to deserve this?
"However, it wasn't until we reached Thailand that the nightmare would truly begin."
"'Bangkok? Where is that?'
"'A city in the east, many miles away. It is where mother and father spent their honeymoon. It is where her shimmering Thai silk dress came from. The one you most particularly liked.'
"'Bangkok it is, then.'"
"Is that really how you decided where to go?" I looked at her in amazement.
"Yes, pretty much. But that's enough storytelling for one night, don't you think? I'm not yet brave enough to tell you what happened next. Besides, it would spoil a beautiful evening. Come on! Bedtime!"
Chapter 15
We climbed the stairs arm-in-arm. This time, however, we made our way to our room less tipsily than we had done in Versailles, and with a greater feeling of mutual understanding and completeness. It had been a wonderful evening, and we were happy just to lie in the warmth and security of each other's arms, drifting off to sleep together.
Yet, as before, Helen's sleep was restless, and this time it was filled with sudden, staccato eruptions of wild, unintelligible words. Eventually, she awoke and grasped me to her, like a security blanket. I reached for the light and saw that her face was damp with sweat, and her eyes wide with terror.
I stroked her hair gently, and drew her in closer. "There, there. They are only nightmares. You are perfectly safe now."
"But they are so real, Charles. I don't have them often, but they almost drive me out of my wits when they come."
"Perhaps it would help if you told me about them. Sometimes, bringing ghosts out into the open can make them disappear."
"I couldn't get the picture out of my head, - that evil king and the poor young innocent he seduced."
"Perhaps not quite so innocent. She was a prostitute, remember ...and certainly not poor. His gifts ended up making her a multi-millionairess. She even gained a title, Baroness Vaughan - or, as her disparagers more often called her - the Queen of the Congo."
"How do you know all that?"
I pointed to the hotel brochure by the side of our bed. "I guess I read more about the history of the place than you did. A man has to do something while his lady is titivating herself for an evening's pleasure."
Helen arched her eyebrows, but made no comment.
"Yes, but I still say she was a poor woman. People don't just become prostitutes. They are driven to it, and often by extreme circumstances and great tragedy. God! I should know."
I looked at her, aghast.
"No, not me - but someone very close to me. My sister."
I didn't know what to say, but bewilderment must have been written all over my face.
"There's no need to look at me like that, Charles. I'm not about to give you the clap. Anyway," she added mischievously, "you do have a French letter, don't you?"
"Not exactly a French letter - just a French envelope. Does that count?"
"I suppose that would depend on what was inside it."
Once again, I was embarrassed, and adroitly steered the conversation in a different direction. "What happened next, when you arrived at Jinnah International?"
"That is where the fairy-tale ended. When we got to the ticket counter and presented our passports, the Sikh official looked up and asked, 'Where are your visas?'
"'Visas?' Kayla responded in dismay. 'I didn't know we needed them.'
"'You can't fly to Bangkok without a visa. You'll have to go to the Royal Thai Consulate in the morning and make your application. They aren't all that difficult to get. If you have the right paperwork, it usually takes about a week.'
"'A week! But what are we to do in the meantime?'
"The official shrugged. 'Be careful. Parts of Karachi are dangerous.'"
"You must have both been devastated," I said. "What did you do next?"
"It was already nearly ten o'clock, so we decided to hang about the airport until dawn, then make our way to the city. Neither of us wanted to be walking the streets alone at night."
"I can well imagine."
"We spent some of our time at the airport researching, and discovered that the Consulate was in an affluent area of the city called Clifton, about 20 kilometres away. We also searched for somewhere nearby to stay, and were able to book a room at the Mashwani Guest House, a place not too expensive that had good reviews.
"Kayla was worried about money. Although we had more than $3000 in cash, she could see it quickly slipping away in airfares and accommodation. I knew that our father had made her a joint signatory on his bank account when she turned eighteen, but thought that would be of little use now.
"'I'm going to try anyway,' Kayla said. 'The bank won't know he's dead yet, and I may be able to withdraw enough Pakistani rupees to cover our expenses here, so that we can keep our American dollars for Thailand.'
"'That's illegal, isn't it?' I said.
"'Probably,' she replied, 'but what choice do we have?'
"As it turned out, she could still withdraw money and, more important, she was able to show an on-line bank statement to the consulate. One of the requirements for a visa was proving that we had enough money in an account to cover the cost of our 'holiday'. Without that, we would have been sunk.
"However, little did we realise the longer term implications of that decision."
"Yes, technically it would have been theft, and she could have been imprisoned under Pakistani law."
"I know. That's why we can never return to Pakistan, and to my beloved mountains.
"Anyway, we made the mistake of walking to our guest house. It was only about half an hour away, but the monsoon season was not quite over, and we were drenched!
"There's not much else to tell about our days there. We spent much of the time in our room, watching videos and TV, except for when we went to Clifton Beach. It was quite a novelty for us to be near water. We enjoyed watching the sun sparkling on the sea, and appreciated the soothing tranquillity of gently lapping waves." Her face brightened a bit as she added, "We even went for a camel ride one afternoon!
"Of course, the cloud of past events still hung heavily over us during those few days, as the pain of our loss gradually sank in. Grief soon turned to anger at the unfairness of fate. Why us? What had we done to deserve this?
"However, it wasn't until we reached Thailand that the nightmare would truly begin."
 Recognized |
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Cast of Main Characters
Charles Brandon: The narrator, a well-known travel writer
Helen Culverson: A woman of mystery, also purporting to be a travel writer
Kayla Culverson: Her older sister.
Madam Durand: A French magazine editor, who was involved in a serious accident
Dr. Laurent: A veterinary surgeon in Versailles
Father Pierre Lacroix, vicar of the Versailles Notre Dame church
Madam Lefauvre: An old woman living in Versailles - the town gossip
Francoise Gaudin: An intellectually disabled woman living in Versailles
Alain Gaudin: brother of Francoise
Estelle Gaudin: deceased mother of Francoise
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. Charles Brandon: The narrator, a well-known travel writer
Helen Culverson: A woman of mystery, also purporting to be a travel writer
Kayla Culverson: Her older sister.
Madam Durand: A French magazine editor, who was involved in a serious accident
Dr. Laurent: A veterinary surgeon in Versailles
Father Pierre Lacroix, vicar of the Versailles Notre Dame church
Madam Lefauvre: An old woman living in Versailles - the town gossip
Francoise Gaudin: An intellectually disabled woman living in Versailles
Alain Gaudin: brother of Francoise
Estelle Gaudin: deceased mother of Francoise
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