The Wandering Eye

Thailand was warm, hospitable and overrun with brazen hussies. It was the perfect destination for her deadbeat lout of a spouse, thought Mary Lincoln, as the two of them rolled slowly towards Wat Mahathat wrapped in the sort of stifling heat that can only be experienced in a low-end tourist bus on a hot summer day. Sitting by her right shoulder, her husband was eagerly snapping photographs of the passing scenery.

Over the last four days the prospect of a divorce had assumed a looming certainty in her mind. For it had been a terrible vacation. First there was the airport attendant, then the cleaning staff at the hotel. Then the tour guide, the lawyer they had met over brunch, and finally the woman who ran the juice-press outside their hotel. All told, Mark was like a man out of control. Things were severalfold worse than they had been on their last disastrous trip to Canada, Mary decided. She had had enough.