Bar Girl (24 page)

‘Oh yes, I forgot. No alcohol for pretty Siswan.’ He laughed.

‘Do you want to talk, Mirak? Or just make insults?’ She turned to look at him.

‘I’m sorry.’ He sat down heavily on the edge of her bed. ‘I just don’t understand, that’s all.’

‘Mirak,’ she said, kneeling down in front of him. ‘It’s not you. It’s me. I can’t let go. Don’t want to let go. It’s difficult to know how to tell you.’

‘I thought we were getting along well?’ he asked her.

‘Yes. We were,’ she agreed. ‘But I don’t want it to go any further. Can you understand that?’

‘No. I don’t get it. What went wrong?’ he asked.

Siswan could easily discern the smell of whiskey on his breath. It wasn’t the raw alcohol her father used to drink, but it did enough to remind her.

‘Look, Mirak,’ she told him. ‘I would like us to be friends. Nothing more than that. If you can’t handle it, I’ll understand.’

‘You’ll understand what, exactly?’ He looked down into her face.

‘I’ll understand if you want to end our friendship,’ she said.

‘I don’t want it to end, Siswan!’ he suddenly shouted. ‘I want to take it further!’

‘But I don’t, Mirak,’ she told him, as she started to stand.

He grabbed her by the wrists. Pulled her down again. In front of him. To her knees. He leaned forward to kiss her but she turned her head and he clumsily ended up kissing her hair.

‘Don’t, Mirak. Please don’t,’ she pleaded with him.

‘I want you, Siswan. I love you. You know that!’

‘If you really love me, Mirak. You’ll stop this now and leave. Like a gentleman,’ she told him, quietly.

‘No,’ he said, almost in tears. ‘We can sort this out. If you’ll just let me.’

He stood, pulling her to her feet at the same time. Holding her wrists he turned and dropped her onto the bed.

‘We can get past this, right now,’ he said, and lay down on top of her.

She tried to push him away. Tried to struggle out from beneath him. He was too strong. He pinned her down with his weight. With one hand he held her wrists whilst he ripped and pulled at her clothing with the other. He forced her legs apart with his knees. Kissed her again and again on her face, her neck.

‘Please, Siswan,’ he moaned.

She shouted at him to stop. Tried to use her teeth to bite him. Tried to lift her knees against him. He forced her down with his weight. She felt an anger building within her. The same cold anger as before. She used it.

‘Okay, okay, Mirak,’ she said, as she stopped struggling. ‘We’ll do this properly.’

She allowed her body to go limp. Relaxed against him. Allowed his hand to freely explore.

He relaxed the hold on her wrists. Let them go. Started using both hands to undress her. To touch her. She let him. Allowed him to violate her body. Gave him hope that she was finally succumbing to his charms.

‘Oh, Siswan,’ he groaned into her shoulder. ‘You are so beautiful.’

She felt his hands inside her blouse. Inside her bra. The smell of the whiskey. She stretched out an arm. Felt for her handbag. Caught the strap and pulled it towards her.

‘That’s it,’ he was saying. ‘We can do this, get over this problem. You’ll see.’

She opened the handbag, felt inside for the knife. Found it. Her thumb traced down the length of the handle. Came to the button near the top. Pressed it. Felt the blade spring out.

‘What the?’

Mirak felt the sudden pain slice into his arm. Looked and saw the blood flowing through his shirt. He stood up. The pain raced along his nerves.

‘What did you do?’ he yelled at her.

‘I cut you,’ she answered.

He looked at her. Made to move toward her. His hand clenched into a fist.

‘And I’ll cut you again,’ she told him.

He stopped and looked into her eyes. Dead. Emotionless. He didn’t recognise her. She no longer looked pretty, no longer looked beautiful. She just looked hard. Cold. He grabbed his arm with his other hand. The blood seeped through his fingers.

‘What have you done, Siswan?’ he asked her, wide eyed. ‘What have you done?’

‘I‘m sorry, Mirak,’ she said. ‘I wanted to explain, to talk. But you wouldn’t listen.’

He didn’t say anything. Just looked at her for a few more seconds before turning and storming out of the room. The door rocked back on its hinges.

Standing, Siswan pulled her blouse around her shoulders. Moved to the door. Closed and locked it. She went back to the bed. Dropped the knife. Sat down and cried into her hands. She sobbed. Tears streamed down her face. For the first time in years she allowed herself to really cry. When the tears finally stopped flowing and the sobs stopped wracking her body, she went to the bathroom and showered.

She didn’t know what Mirak would do. She had offended him. Hurt him. She expected a reprisal of some sort but she didn’t know what it would be. Half way through her thoughts, half way through her shower, she heard the telephone in her handbag ring.

Drying herself as she walked, she made her way to the bed. She expected it to be him. Expected to hear his voice when she said hello. It wasn’t him, wasn’t Mirak. She didn’t know whether to feel a sense of relief or regret at the sound of Ped’s voice.

‘Siswan?’ her cousin asked.

‘Yes. Yes, it’s me,’ Siswan had to swallow to speak.

‘Are you alright?’ Ped had heard the strain in her voice.

‘Yes. I’m fine. It’s late that’s all,’ she answered.

‘I know. I’m sorry.’

‘What is it, Ped?’ Now it was Siswan’s turn to detect the tone of her cousin’s voice.

‘Your father, Siswan. He died. In his sleep. About an hour ago,’ Ped told her.

Siswan didn’t say anything for a moment. Her mind raced back in time. To a time when she had lost someone who meant more to her than her father. Someone she had loved, not hated.

‘Thank you, Ped,’ she said. ‘I’ll call you tomorrow.’

She switched the telephone off. Sat on the bed. Her thoughts returned to her youth. To a time when the waves had seemed huge.

‘So, do you want the job?’ Nong asked.

‘Yes. Yes, please,’ Siswan answered.

‘You have your ID?’

Siswan pulled the card from her pocket. This would be the first test. Could she pass as an eighteen year old?

‘I’ll get one of the girls to show you the room. Come back in an hour. Bring your stuff.’ Nong passed back her ID card and turned back to stocking the shelves. She’d hardly given it a glance.

Siswan almost ran back to the workhouse. She collected her clothes and bundled them in the old sheet as before. She carried her new outfit, still in its wrappings, carefully over one arm. When she went downstairs Ma was in her usual position behind the old desk.

‘I’m leaving,’ she said.

‘Yes?’ Ma said.

‘I thought I’d let you know,’ Siswan told her.

The old woman gave her a dismissive grunt. It may have been a ‘goodbye’ or ‘good luck’ but Siswan didn’t think it was either. She turned and walked out through the main door for the last time.

She wanted to go to the beach, to tell Karn what had happened, but she guessed her friend would have packed up and left. She would go there tomorrow. During the day.

By the time she got back to the bar, a young looking girl was sat waiting for her. Nong introduced her as Nok. Nok wore a pair of jeans and a pink tee shirt and looked Siswan up and down before speaking.

‘So, you’re going to be the new cashier then?’ she said, in a voice that offered little in the way of welcome or kindness.

‘Yes. My name is Siswan,’ Siswan replied, with a smile.

The girl didn’t say anything. Just raised an eyebrow before turning to Nong.

‘What room is she going to have?’

‘She can share with you and Joy,’ Nong told her.

‘Three? No way! The room’s not big enough!’ Nok argued.

Nong suddenly turned on her. There was a flare of anger in her eyes.

Siswan was shocked by the sudden animosity in her voice.

‘You’ll do what I say, Nok!’ she shouted.

Nok backed down. Her face showed that she wasn’t pleased. She looked at Nong with pure hatred in her eyes. She stood up, looked to Siswan.

‘Come on,’ she said as she started to walk away.

‘Go with her, Siswan. Any trouble, you tell me.’ Nong nodded towards Nok’s back.

Siswan collected her clothes together and ran after Nok. When she caught up she took a sideways glance at the girl she was going to be living with.

‘I’m sorry if I caused you any trouble,’ she said.

‘I hate that bitch!’ Nok replied.

Siswan had to hurry to keep up. The girl strode forward. Her foul mood emphasised in her manner. Siswan didn’t say any more. When Nok showed her the room she was surprised at the size. The room was easily twice as big as her room in the workhouse. It was huge in comparison.

Nok pointed to a bed in the corner. A bed with sheets and a pillow. Siswan couldn’t believe it. From the way Nok had reacted, she had expected a repeat of the workhouse room. This was wonderful. The walls even had paint and there was a huge array of mirrors fixed to the doors of real wardrobes. There was even a dressing table, with another mirror.

‘The bathroom is in there.’ Nok pointed to a door. ‘You’d better get changed and get back to work.’

‘What time do you start?’ Siswan asked her.

‘Later,’ Nok told her, as she stretched out on her own bed. ‘You’re the cashier. You start early.’

Siswan laid her clothes out on the bed, unwrapped her new outfit, and then made for the bathroom. She was in for another surprise when she looked at the tiled walls, tiled floor and, especially, the shower head protruding from the wall. When she turned the tap beneath it, water sprayed out like rain. The water was still cold, but so refreshing!

Siswan spent a long time getting really clean. She washed herself and then washed her clothes. Finally, when she was spotless, she left the bathroom and walked back into the main room.

Nok was propped up against her pillows watching television. Siswan was fascinated. She’d seen televisions before, of course, but never up close. The images seemed so real.

‘Don’t just stand there,’ Nok said. ‘Get to work. The bitch will dock your pay if you’re late.’

‘Where can I hang my wet clothes?’ Siswan asked.

‘Why are they wet?’

‘I washed them.’ Siswan thought it a strange question to ask.

‘Well, don’t do that again. Just send them to the laundry. We don’t want smelly wet clothes hanging around here,’ Nok told her, as though she were talking to a child.

Siswan thought about the girls working in the hot shed. The smell of the soap, the heat from the copper cauldrons.

‘I prefer to wash my own,’ she said.

‘If you have to, then put them out there.’ Nok pointed to a glass door, almost obscured by a full length curtain.

Outside, Siswan found a small balcony. There was plenty of room to hang her few clothes. She wondered why Nok didn’t just wash her own. It was so easy.

She opened up the small makeup box. Sat down at the dressing table and applied her makeup just as the old man had taught her. Not too much, not too little. She made herself look older. When she finished, she dressed in her new outfit and turned to walk out.