Arabelle's Shadows

By Fleur Gaskin

Arabelle is a fashion model who has worked in many exotic places. Her adventures take her to Bangkok where she starts to date a wealthy Thai socialite. She has gorgeous friends from all over the world, gets to party at the hottest clubs, and attracts attention with every step.
But the fashion industry isn't as glamorous as it appears; there are too many models in Bangkok, Arabelle is broke, and the people she meets aren't what they seem.
Slowly the Shadows creep back into Arabelle's thoughts, bringing with them feelings of hopelessness and despair. The vile Shadows know that Arabelle is repressing her past and, if she's not careful, they'll use it to destroy her.

Based on a true story, this coming-of-age novel sheds light on the gritty and devastating reality of depression.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Fleur Gaskin
• Release date: Nov 15, 2012
• ISBN: 9781301796373

Fleur Gaskin

Fleur Gaskin is from New Zealand. She was an international model for six years, working in over ten countries, mainly in Asia and Europe. She has been in TV commercials, walked on runways and done many print jobs including Elle, Marie Claire and Vogue magazines.She presently lives in Shanghai, China with her fiance.

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Arabelle’s Shadows

By Fleur Gaskin

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2012 Fleur Gaskin

This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced in any form, in whole or in part, without written permission from the author.

Cover Design: Vasil Hnatiuk

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For my mum

*

Every diary I’ve ever written has been sad. It seems I only ever write when I’m depressed or overwhelmed or some bad thing has happened. Not this time though. This diary’s going to be happy!

CHAPTER ONE

Bangkok                                                

Thursday 30 September, 2004  01:02 PM 

I gave up smoking a month ago today. Quitting smoking means that, for the first time since I was twelve years old, I’m not depressed anymore. No more tearful meltdowns that end only if I smoke a cigarette. I’ve quit smoking. I’ve quit being depressed. I’ve survived. Today is a great day – full of hope, joy and new beginnings.

And my brand new life has gotten off to such an excellent start. I’ve been in Bangkok for less than a week and…I think I’ve started dating Naak!

I’ve known Naak for ages. We met three years ago when he helped a friend of mine escape from her crazy boyfriend. After that was over we’d see each other around, sometimes at dinners with mutual friends, but mostly in clubs. Every time we were together we’d flirt. He was safe to flirt with, all serious and formal. I didn’t have to worry about the flirtation turning into something more complicated because he only ever dated nice Thai girls that his family approved of. But I’ve been away from Bangkok for over a year and I guess things have changed. He’s so much more relaxed. His hair’s all grown out and shaggy now. I think, maybe, he’s stopped trying to please everyone so much.

I really hope things work out the way that I want them to. I’ve waited such a long time to have a boyfriend and I truly believe I’m ready now. But I’m getting ahead of myself; I haven’t even explained how we got together yet.

We were in Bed. Tuesdays are hip-hop night at Bed and it’s generally so crowded no one can move. From the outside, Bed bar looks like an enormous white barrel supported by gigantic white steel bars. Inside everything’s white too. I arrived at nine o’clock. I was early as I’d been out shopping all day and hadn’t bothered to go home and change. I met my friend Cell Sarawut and, while waiting for the club to fill up, we hung out in the dining area drinking whisky sours.

An hour or so later I was dancing on a couch beside the crowded dance floor. I looked down and there was Naak standing below me, trying to get my attention. He grabbed my hand and I jumped down. We squeezed our way through the masses of people to the place where he, and all my old party friends were dancing.

In typical Asian nightclub fashion they were still playing the same songs as when I’d left. It actually makes the night a lot of fun (in a cheesy kind of way.) We can all sing along to all the songs. I love those kinds of nights. Everyone all dressed up and squished together in the dark, an endless supply of champagne bottles being passed around.

The next thing I know, I’m having a strange dream about toothbrushes. They were falling from the sky and I was spinning round amongst them, my arms out wide, my hair swirling. My skirt puffed out into a circle like an upside down coffee cup. The toothbrushes (all boxy and white) bounced off my skin, making white plastic mounds at my feet. I was happy at first but then this niggling feeling began to wash away my joy. Wasn’t I supposed to be at a fashion show? In the mirror I was suddenly holding, I saw my face was heavily made up. I remembered the hairdressers who had, moments earlier, fixed the last of my hot iron curls into place with hairspray.

I couldn’t be out playing in toothbrush rain! What if all the twirling messed up my hair? What if a toothbrush hit my face and smudged my makeup? A good model would never do anything so frivolous once her hair and makeup were ready for a show. A good model wouldn’t even lean her head back against a chair in case it messed up her hair. My conscious mind could not accept the rashness of my dream self (I would never do something like that) So I woke up.

I was snuggled ever so softly into Naak’s shoulder. His arm was wrapped around me and through his t-shirt I could feel his heart bump. My mouth was dry. It felt like those strips of sticky sandpaper people hang by their front doors to catch flies. I couldn’t remember if I’d brushed my teeth, maybe that’s why I’d been dreaming about toothbrushes? I guessed it was early, too early to wake up judging by the miniscule amount of light coming through the thick hotel curtains. Naak kissed my neck. Be still sweetie. I have to get up for work soon. I tried to stop squirming but it was really difficult cos I was still drunk.

Breakfast was brought in on a trolley and set down on a pristine white tablecloth. I couldn’t work out where we were. The living room definitely looked like a hotel and I was wearing a white, fluffy bathrobe but Naak had pulled a suit out of the wardrobe and he had work papers on the coffee table. There was also a kitchenette.

In between stuffing my mouth with delectable French toast covered in stewed fruit and powdered sugar I asked him, Where are we? Do you live here? Naak, who was busy spreading butter on his toast, said,

I stay here sometimes during the week, especially when I have a night like last night, he giggled. It’s closer to my office. My family house is all the way out in Bang Na. It takes over an hour to drive there.

Then I understood. We were in a serviced apartment that resembled a five star hotel. Being right in the centre of town it must cost an unimaginable amount of money to stay there. Then again, it’s not like he can’t afford it. Naak’s family has a lot of money, largely from working with the military, I think. Plus Naak has his own law firm.

After breakfast Naak grabbed my scruffy old phone and called himself. There, now I have your number, he said smirking. He’d already showered and was standing beside me wearing an immaculately cut business suit. Paired with his frameless glasses, he looked way too serious. I want to see you tonight Arabelle. I’ll call you this afternoon. I nodded and grinned a stupid grin. Before I could find something to say he’d bent down, gently kissed me goodbye, and left the hotel.

I finished my pot of green tea in bed watching Singaporean MTV then went to shower. That was when I found a jar full of toothbrushes, all white, all used, sitting on the bathroom bench. The raining toothbrush dream began to make sense. A new toothbrush was waiting for me beneath the sink. I used it then added it to the six already in the jar. Yes I counted!

It was already sweltering when I left the hotel. The sun forced its way through the pollution and beat down on me, dehydrating my already fragile body. My hung-over head pounded. I walked slowly, concentrating on the numerous cracks and bumps in the pavement. It took just ten minutes to get to the BTS sky train yet I was still sticky with sweat as I trudged up the many steps to the train.

During the day the BTS is really the only way to travel in Bangkok. It’s like a monorail. The tracks run high above the road, allowing the trains to skip over the perpetual congestion that is Bangkok’s traffic. Inside it’s cool, clean, and nowhere near as crowded as you’d think.

When I was on the train I tried calling Cell Sarawut for the third time. He still wasn’t answering his phone. It’s my fault he was angry. I was so drunk at Bed that I wouldn’t answer my phone when he called me, then I left the club with Naak without saying goodbye. Not my finest hour I admit, especially considering I’m staying at his house. Then again, Cell’s been attached to me ever since I arrived in Bangkok and I desperately needed a break from him.

I met Cell in my first year modelling overseas. He’s Thai with a remarkably square jaw but otherwise he’s pretty ordinary to look at. Cell was the boyfriend of one of the friends. They’ve broken up now but we still kept in touch. Even though Cell’s my friend I can’t completely trust him. You always need to be careful with what he tells you, you see Cell has a tendency to make stuff up. The trouble is, if he says he shared a cocktail with a supermodel or a celebrity in L.A. it’s impossible to tell if he’s lying. He’s so incredibly wealthy it’s also possible he’s telling you the truth.

Cell had offered me a place to live when I was stuck in Korea with a hopeless agency and a house full of crazy models. I naively thought he was merely being nice to me, so I accepted. Isn’t that what friends do? Help each other out? Cell picked me up from the airport, shared his house with me. He took me out to classy cocktail lounges and we ate our meals in fine restaurants. I’m extremely grateful to him for doing all that. It’s just… eventually it started to feel like he was using me.

He drove me everywhere, to the agency, to castings. We ate every single meal together. We even shared his bed (don’t worry, nothing ever happened!) I knew he was enjoying having me by his side and in the beginning it wasn’t a problem. But after awhile it all began to feel a bit possessive. He wouldn’t let me out of his sight. I put up with it though because I felt guilty that he was paying for everything.

I know it sounds like I’ve been using him too, and perhaps I have been, but I didn’t think I was. I would’ve been perfectly happy to go to places where I could afford to pay for myself. I just figured, he has the money to spend and, if the roles were reversed, I’d pay for him too.

By that night at Bed I’d been staying with Cell for almost a week and I’d finally figured out what must seem obvious. He was taking me everywhere so that it would look, to his friends and colleagues, like I was his girlfriend. I felt objectified, like a designer handbag being paraded around to increase Cell’s status. Perhaps that’s one of the reasons I left with Naak, I wanted to test this theory. If we really were just friends then he shouldn’t have had any problem with me going off with my other friends for the night.

Clearly he was pretending I was his girlfriend because when he finally answered his phone he was fuming. Yes, he spat. Before you say anything I want you to know that I’m not your driver or your meal ticket! I sighed. I’d poured icy cold reality all over his fantasy world and now he was MAD. It was definitely time for me to move somewhere else. The trouble was, I didn’t know where Cell lived so I couldn’t go and get my stuff. Cell had driven me everywhere causing me to break a cardinal travellers rule: ALWAYS have your address written down and on you at all times!

I know, I’m sorry and I really appreciate the place to stay, but perhaps it’s best if I leave. Just message me the address, I’ll move out tonight and… The battery on my cheap battered phone died.

With nowhere else to go I went to see my agency, Flaunt. In the waiting room beside the door, there’s a large poster of me. It’s an ad for the department store Zen. I did the shoot a few years ago, back when my image was plastered all over Bangkok. I’m standing in the centre of a dark tropical forest wearing a turquoise mini-dress that makes my legs look unnaturally long.

I sat in the agency looking at the picture while I waited for my agent, Muk Leekpai, to get off the phone. My hair was shorter then, not quite reaching my shoulders. Sunlight shone through the trees highlighting the red tint in my auburn hair. It’s my favourite photo. My lips are slightly parted, eyes more green than blue and, for once, my expression is soft, like I just woke up.

Muk finished his phone call and came to sit with me. I scooted over to the edge of the bench (I was still wearing yesterday’s clothes and didn’t want him sitting too close to me.) Muk’s a great friend to me, more like a hyperactive, overworked father than my agent. I started working with him back when he first opened his agency. Back when it was just him and his assistant. They were working out of a studio apartment so tiny the only place to sit was on his bunk bed. Now Flaunt has half a dozen staff. It’s located in a large wooden house, complete with kitchen, waiting room, a sizable garden and a small studio area for taking basic photos or videos. Muk and his boyfriend sleep upstairs.

I took a sip of the icy water the agency had given me when I’d arrived.

Muk, I said. I need to get away from Cell, he’s crazy!

Ai, said Muk shaking his over sized head. I told you to watch out for that guy. He shows up at my agency all the time, full of business proposals but really he just wants to find out what my models are doing.

Yeah, I don’t know what I was thinking. I guess I hadn’t seen Cell for so long I’d forgotten how he was. Look I know you’re really full at the moment, but please, please can you find me somewhere to stay? I opened my eyes real wide and gave him my cutest begging pout. It’s a trick I’ve learned from being around so many pretty girls.

Muk called over one of his assistants. The conversation, like everything in Thailand, took ages so I flicked through a pile of old magazines looking for photos of my friends or myself.

You can stay in Juliana and Maria’s room for now. In a couple of weeks there will be room in the big models apartment on the seventh floor. I jumped up and hugged Muk.

Thanks so much. Now I just have to find out where my stuff is! I ate lunch with the agency then Muk’s assistant called Cell Sarawut and got his address. I left for Cell’s place around two.

The sun had almost set by the time I arrived at Cell’s house. I was grimy and hot from hours of wandering the streets. I’d spent the afternoon climbing into taxis, riding on motorbikes and walking round in circles looking for a street that didn’t exist.

My phone was still out of batteries so when I couldn’t find his house I called Cell from a payphone. I had to sit on the dusty footpath outside a convenience store for an hour waiting until he came and picked me up. The address he’d given the agency was missing a word. I’d been searching on the wrong side of the bridge the whole time.

I was too worn out and hung-over to be mad. I just wanted to get my stuff, leave, and pretend the whole day had never happened. I shoved clothes into my suitcase as Cell lay on the bed sending text messages and not talking to me.

When we were leaving I noticed Cell’s father was having dinner with yet another mistress. She was taller than the one he has breakfast with, but older than the one we’d met once at lunch. Poor Cell, it’s no wonder he prefers to live in an imaginary world. His dad’s too busy with all his girlfriends to pay any attention to him. Perhaps that’s why I was staying in his room instead of in one of the many guest bedrooms - he wanted to prove to his dad that he could pick up girls too.

It was dark by the time we’d packed my bags into the trunk of the taxi. So, I’ll see you later at Models Night? Cell asked me. Cell had been organising Model’s night with the agencies - free drinks at a club for all the models on Wednesday nights.

Uh sure, I’ll see you there, I said, surprised. As the taxi pulled away I smiled. If Cell was inviting me out then surely he couldn’t be as mad at me as I’d imagined.

There was no one in the apartment when I arrived, just a mattress and sheets set up for me on the floor. I plugged my phone into its charger and minutes later Naak called. Despite my weariness my stomach did a little jump. Hi. I’ve been trying to call you all day.

Yeah, no battery. I replied glumly.

So let’s go out for dinner tonight, he said.

Okay, I smiled into the phone but I promised Cell I’d go to Models Night tonight.

Sure, we can go there after. You sound tired darling. Shall I send a car round to pick you up? The idea of a car picking me up (without Naak in it) made me feel so uncomfortable I felt my cheeks flush. Nah it’s okay, I can take a taxi. Putting down my phone I was filled with a whole new burst of energy. I pulled my disc-man and portable speakers out of my suitcase and bopped around in front of the mirror for a song or two then jumped into the shower. I know Naak said he’d call but I was still thrilled when he actually did.

Naak wasn’t in the lobby when I arrived at the serviced apartment. This was a dilemma for me because I seriously didn’t want to call him. Even after all this time travelling, phones still make me nervous. I prefer texting. It’s less personal and I don’t have to worry about interrupting people. To be honest, it’s also because I save money when I text and I’m pretty close to broke at the moment.

I sat on the leather couch for a moment hoping Naak would come out of the elevator and rescue me. He didn’t. I worried he’d think I was being impersonal or cheap if I sent a text message so, ignoring my dry mouth and damp palms, I called. Hey, I’m downstairs, I told him.

Oh, there was a pause. I’m not actually ready yet, why don’t you come up?

His room number is 111. I don’t know why (maybe because 111 is the emergency services phone number back home in New Zealand) but it made me shiver as I stood there staring at it, waiting for Naak to answer the door.

Naak seriously wasn’t ready. He wasn’t even dressed. He was wearing a bathrobe! I just had a massage, he said looking me up and down appreciatively. I’d decided to make an effort, mainly for Cell’s Models night, but a little for Naak too. I was wearing makeup, my tight black pleather skirt and electric pink heels.

Completely unprepared for Naak to not be ready, all my reserve energy drained out of me. I slumped down on the soft white sofa feeling the exhaustion of the day wash over me. Naak came and sat beside me, asked me if I want a massage too. I shook my head so he suggested we stay and order in. I may, at times, be naive about men but even I knew it probably wasn’t an accident Naak wasn’t dressed. The trouble is, I was just too tired. I couldn’t be bothered thinking about it and the sofa really was too cosy to leave.

While waiting for the food Naak brought out a bong. We smoked then he guided me to the bedroom so I could nap…well, that was the idea anyway. Dinner arrived before all of my clothes had come off. Naak went to the door to let room service in while I attempted to straighten myself up.

As we ate Naak kept asking me questions. I tried to concentrate but I was too wasted to answer properly. My head kept rolling to the side. I really wanted to rest it on the table -just for a minute.

I, um, I’ve been doing yoga, since I was in London. I follow a book, it’s, you know, good for travelling with. I was going to say something else but I’d forgotten what I was talking about. I couldn’t make my mouth form words anymore so I gave up and stopped talking. Naak took over. He talked a lot about golf. The fresh green grass, how mentally challenging it can be, the incredible feeling he gets when he makes a great shot. I listened blinking really slowly. Each time I closed my eyes it was delightful, like a mini nap.

For dessert we moved to the couch. Naak sat beside me spooning rich chocolate mousse into my mouth as he talked in detail about his business. It was sweet to see him so passionate even if, most of the time, I had no idea what he was talking about. When he’d finished his vodka he put the glass down on the coffee table and began to kiss me.

As we headed back into the bedroom I was grateful I was so high. If I hadn’t been I would’ve been really nervous. I’m too shy, too inexperienced, too worried about being crap. It’s been a long time since I was with a guy and I’ve never really known what to do with a man’s body. Fortunately, Naak knew what he wanted and took control. Afterwards we fell asleep and missed Cell’s party. 

For the second morning in a row, I sat in a hotel bathrobe eating a room service breakfast with Naak. I wasn’t still drunk (unlike yesterday morning) so we were talking about the other night at Bed.

You know I spent sixteen thousand baht on drinks? We all drank a lot of champagne.

Wow, is what I said, but in my head I was thinking that’s a ridiculous amount of money to spend on drinks. Not something to be so proud of. A hollow, defeated feeling appeared in my stomach. I wished I had sixteen thousand baht. A little less than five hundred U.S. dollars, sixteen thousand baht is more money than I can afford to spend for a whole month in Bangkok including accommodation, food and transport.

It’s important to make sure everyone’s having fun, don’t you think? Naak continued. I make sure I set aside a budget of forty thousand baht each month just for socialising. I smiled and nodded my head some more but I didn’t reply.

Naak took his time going to work. He likes to talk about business a lot but I get the impression he spends much more time on the golf course than in the office.

Even after we’d finished eating Naak talked and talked. He didn’t ask any questions about me so I sat quietly and listened. My uncle’s sick at the moment, he said. I go and see him at least once a week in the hospital. Naak told me how frustrated he feels not being able to fix him. His uncle’s like a second father to him. His whole family’s been going to his uncle’s house for lunch every Sunday since he was a kid. I think that’s my favourite part about Asia, how close everyone is to their family. It’s very different in my family. I don’t even know the names of all of my cousins.

A shiny black car (with driver) was waiting for Naak when we eventually left the apartment. Before he got into the car he told me, I’m going away for a couple of days, but I want to see you when I get back. He looked deep into my eyes, searching to make sure I wanted to see him too. I blushed, and gave him half a smile. He grinned back at me. I’ll send you many, many messages while I’m away. He touched my cheek and drove away.

And that’s how I started dating Naak. I know it’s early but I can’t help myself. I’m so excited. I can’t believe I’m finally going to have a boyfriend! Not a one night stand or some silly crush.

Oops! I’ve been writing too long and now I’m late for a casting. Gotta go…

CHAPTER TWO

Bangkok

Saturday 9 October, 2004      10:16AM 

I’m sitting on a wooden bench outside the studio, waiting for the makeup artist to show up. I’m sure I’ll be waiting a little while longer because everyone in Bangkok always arrives at least half an hour late. Back in the old days if I had to be at a job at ten o’clock, I’d leave my house at ten o’clock. Nowadays there are too many agencies and competition’s really tough so Muk says we have to be on time. If we’re not then the clients complain and threaten to start using another agency

I hope I don’t have to wait too long though; I’m really tired. I went out with Naak last night. Soi 4 is an alley packed full of mini nightclubs in Silom. On weekends it’s so popular you can barely move. We arrived at Tapas Club, wedged ourselves into a corner of the dance floor and stayed there all night. Naak had brought a girl who smelt like daffodils with him. She squished herself beside me and pouted her shimmery lips. As she swung her hair back and forth she kept her eyes fixed on me. Someone behind me, trying to squeeze through the crowd, pushed me forward so I bumped into her. She responded by wrapping her smooth, soft arm around my waist.

I still don’t understand how they know, it’s not like I go around telling everyone I like girls. I must send off a signal or something because every so often they come and find me. We played and flirted with each other the whole night. It was heavenly and Naak thought it fabulous. Sometimes he danced with us, sometimes he watched. He kept ordering drinks and shots for us while we danced.

Before you go thinking something interesting happened, it didn’t. It was just some harmless fun. I mean, I went there with Naak, not that girl. Also I had to get up early for this job so the night ended with me going home by myself. 

The photographer and stylist have arrived, but no sign of the makeup artist so still I wait. The studio assistants sitting beside me are all eating krapao moo out of white polystyrene containers. They offered me some earlier but the thought of eating spicy minced pork on rice this early in the morning makes my stomach turn.

I just got a message from Naak. It says "Good morning, its so nice outside today! Have a sunny day, na ;>"

He sends me cute little messages like that every morning and most nights. I know that it’s really sweet, and Naak is smart and funny and he clearly likes me… but it kinda feels like it’s all happening too fast. I’ve been finding myself in a bit of a panic recently. Considering how long I’ve avoided having a relationship, how do I know if I’m ready for one now?

There’s another thing too, if I’m being completely honest, I seriously don’t know anything about sex. I mean, I’ve had sex before but nothing intimate. Essentially I’ve only ever had one-night stands. I’m always drunk and urgh!! I’m so completely inexperienced and unsure of a man’s body. I keep thinking about all those sex tips in magazines. It seems like there are so many ways to be terrible in bed and I really don’t like doing things I’m not already good at.

Okay the makeup artist is here, gotta go…. 

Right. I’m back in my apartment eating a dinner of snacks from 7-eleven. I’m too worn out to go and get something proper to eat. That was an absurdly long photo shoot. It was a magazine shoot for makeup, which always takes forever because they have to change your hair and makeup after each shot. Today was even longer because I had three-inch nails glued to my fingers and they needed to apply a new coat of nail polish with each wardrobe change. The nails were so long it was impossible for me to hold a fork or dress myself. When it was time to change clothes I was forced to just stand there, my arms out like a scarecrow, as the stylists stripped me down then re-dressed me in heavy silk kimonos.

Seeing as I spent most of the day sitting still, being painted and prepped, I had a lot of time to continue thinking about my relationship fears. I know I’m being silly, I know I have to try having a boyfriend some day. I know I should be brave and give him a try. I don’t want to run away but… how do I explain Naak that I’m twenty-three years old and have never had a boyfriend?

Travelling Years

Wellington, April 2000

It’s not that I didn’t want a boyfriend because I’ve been dreaming of having a boyfriend my whole life. The thing is, when I was in high school I thought guys weren’t interested in me at all. When I left high school guys started paying attention to me. They’d flirt with me but none of them wanted to date me. One of them described me as ‘untouchable.’ I suppose I can be quite distant with people so maybe that’s why they didn’t think they could get close to me.

With guys too scared to approach me and me too insecure to believe anyone was actually interested in me, I turned nineteen with my virginity still very much