The Thai Mousetrap, in three episodes, will be available to read during October, but not for free. We will provide links later to the websites where you can read it for a small fee. We will, however, make a few pages available for free.
It is a tragic work of fiction. In real life, however, it is often not fiction at all, but harsh reality. Many elderly, lonely men – and sometimes women too – fall into such a trap.
Bi
First episode: Birmingham
PART I
Jeffrey Baxter was a sturdy widower from Birmingham with sixty-nine years under his belt. He was certainly not lacking in means; he was comfortably well-off, as the saying goes. This was not solely due to his own hard graft, but principally due to the inheritance and the compensation he had received following the tragic death of his wife, Betsy.
He had not mourned for particularly long. Their childless marriage had, as is so often the case with long-term relationships, evolved into a marriage of convenience. Each went their own way. The eroticism between them had long since evaporated, transforming into a sort of brother-sister relationship.
In his local pub, The Roebuck, he was a welcome guest. Not because he was generous with his money—no, certainly not that, for he only ever bought a round on his birthday—but because he was an incredibly gifted storyteller, spinning yarns about his travels and adventures abroad. Adventures that, in reality, he had seldom or never actually experienced. They were the stories of his late wife, Betsy, which he had adopted as his own and imaginatively embellished.
After a few pints of Guinness, he would invariably begin to recount his adventurous travels, and before long, a circle of listeners would gather around him, hanging on his every word. He could be found in The Roebuck almost daily, not only to drink but also to eat, as cooking was absolutely not his forte. Frying a couple of eggs with a slice of bread, or heating a frozen lasagna in the microwave, was the absolute limit of his culinary skills. Sporadically, he would simply drive through a fast-food restaurant.
Over the years, his eating and drinking habits had translated into significant excess weight. No, he was certainly no oil painting, and he knew full well that women would not fall for his physical charms. That he was wealthy was something no one could tell just by looking at him. His appearance was rather dishevelled, particularly his clothing. This was partly by design; in this way, he kept the gold-diggers at a safe distance. Until now, that tactic had worked perfectly … until one day.
PART II
No one in the pub knew of his fortune. Only Daisy, the barmaid, had an inkling, as she had once been close friends with his late wife.
It was a Friday evening, and a jovial atmosphere filled The Roebuck. Jeffrey took a seat at a table for four and ordered a steak with chips, salad, and, naturally, a large Guinness from Daisy. He cast a brief glance around the room. Only a few regulars were present so far. They nodded to him, he nodded back, and he quietly carried on eating.
Suddenly, there was a gentle tap on his table. Jeffrey looked up and could scarcely believe his eyes. Standing there was John Masson, an old pub mate he had not laid eyes on in at least five years, not since John had immigrated to Thailand following his divorce. At the time, Jeffrey had deeply regretted his comrade’s departure for foreign shores.
"Mind if I join you for a moment, Jeffrey?" John asked.
"You cannot be serious!" Jeffrey cried enthusiastically. He sprang to his feet and gave his bosom buddy a brotherly embrace. "Of course, John, of course! Come on, pull up a chair!"
"I am not alone," John interjected, before introducing his Thai wife, Sunee, and her sister, Tukta.
"No problem at all, come, sit yourselves down!"
Jeffrey immediately called over to Daisy to ask John and his two ‘women’ what they would like to drink. This was entirely out of character for him, and most certainly on an ordinary Friday, given that his birthday was still a long way off. It was born purely out of sheer joy because ‘good old John’ had suddenly materialized after all these years in the very spot where they used to down so many gallons of ale together.
John, his wife, and his sister-in-law joined him. For a fraction of a second, Jeffrey locked eyes with John’s sister-in-law, Tukta. A strange shiver ran through him, a sensation he had not experienced since he had first fallen in love as a young lad.
John talked volubly about his experiences in Thailand, while Jeffrey caught him up on his life in Birmingham: the tragic death of Betsy and the fact that he was now a lonely widower. At those final words, he cast a meaningful look at Tukta, who returned his gaze with eyes full of sympathy.
Now, that loneliness of his ought to be taken with a pinch of salt. Granted, he was a widower, but the practical side of being on his own did not trouble him in the slightest. He was relishing his bachelor life to the absolute full and would not have traded it for all the tea in China. That had always been his motto.
Jeffrey, however, was a born manipulator. It was partly because of this trait that he had always excelled in his former profession as an insurance broker. He had a knack for saddling potential clients with policies for which they paid through the nose, which had netted him splendid sales figures and handsome bonuses back in the day. But that was entirely by the by.
It was already nearing one o’clock in the morning when the bell for last orders chimed. Jeffrey had to think of something fast; he wanted to see Tukta again at all costs. Suddenly, a luminous, albeit expensive, idea struck him.
"John, I trust we shall be seeing each other again soon?"
He spotted a flicker of hesitation in his friend’s eyes. "I am not entirely sure just yet, Jeffrey, but we …”
"No buts! Tomorrow evening, dinner is on me at The Coconut Tree ".
John stared at him, his eyes wide. "But that is one of the finest and most expensive restaurants in Birmingham, do you really mean it?"
"Too bloody right I do! I haven't seen you in five years. You were, and still are, my best mate; you are like a brother to me."
The moment Sunee caught the words ‘finest and most expensive restaurant’, she promptly nudged her husband with her elbow and nodded enthusiastically in Jeffrey's direction.
Jeffrey knew his plan had succeeded. It would likely cost him a pretty penny, but in this instance, he did not mind. He was not genuinely stingy; if he saw the utility in something, he was perfectly willing to spend a few pounds on it. It was simply that such occasions rarely arose. Otherwise, he lived thriftily and, outside his pub visits, spent his money strictly on the bare essentials. The purpose of the planned dinner was simple: to court Tukta and see how far he could get. As an experienced salesman, he had a gut feeling that he would succeed.
Do read on because this is just the beginning of a particularly gripping and tragic story. Although it is fiction, reality sometimes comes unnervingly close. Older men in particular, but also well-off older ladies, can learn an important lesson from it.
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