Private Dancer (19 page)

I pinned up several photographs of Joy on the wall around my desk, pictures I'd taken around her house in Surin. I wondered what she was doing and if she was missing me as much as I was missing her. I'd arranged to phone her on the morning of the second day I got back in London.

Thailand was six hours ahead of England, so I said I'd call at ten o'clock in the morning which would be four o'clock in the afternoon for her. It was always best to pre-arrange calls because the telephone was a call box a mile or so from her house. If she wasn't there it would be pot luck as to who answered. If it was someone who knew Joy and who was prepared to listen to my stilted Thai, then I could ask them to go and get her and I'd call back an hour or so later. But if it was a child who answered or an adult who couldn't understand my Thai, then they'd just hang up. If I was in Bangkok, I could get a member of the hotel staff to call, but five thousand miles away in London, I was on my own so it was better to tell Joy in advance when I was going to call. I just hoped that she'd be there.

I set two alarm clocks on the day I said I'd call because I was working late into the night. The quicker I finished the book, the sooner I'd be able to get back to Bangkok and see Joy again. I paced around the flat, waiting for ten o'clock. I kept stopping to look at the photographs of her,

smiling cutely at the camera.

I started dialling as soon as the second hand hit twelve and practically held my breath as it began to ring out. It seemed to take for ever but I guess it was only ten seconds or so before she answered. “Sawasdee ka. Hello?” It was her. I almost couldn't believe it. I suddenly felt guilty for ever doubting her. She'd done everything I'd asked of her. I'd asked her to stop work. She'd agreed. I'd asked her to go and stay with her father while I went back to England. She'd agreed. I'd asked her to be at the phone at a particular time. She'd agreed.

We chatted about my book, about what London was like, and what she was doing. She said that her father was buying barrels of fuel and she was selling it at the roadside by the litre. “I very dark now,“ she said. ”Maybe you not like me any more.”

I told her not to be silly, that I'd love her whatever the colour of her skin. That's one of the crazy things about Thais, they prefer their skin to be as light as possible, whereas often they looked better when their skin was dark. There was a huge amount of prejudice, with the whiter skinned people of Bangkok clearly looking down their noses at their poorer, darker, cousins from the east of the country. Each time Joy returned from a stay in Surin she was always darker, but I thought she looked great.

She asked me when I was coming back to Thailand and I said probably two months. To be honest I was pretty sure I'd be working on the London book for three months but I didn't want her to be too disheartened. Twelve weeks was a long time and if she thought I wasn't coming back she might well decide to go back to Bangkok and stay with her friends.

Joy said she missed me and started blowing kisses down the phone. I felt suddenly guilty for doubting her. Of course she loved me, if she didn't love me she'd have just stayed in Bangkok.

I promised to call her in another two days at the same time. “I love you,” was the last thing she said to me. When I put down the phone I was elated, almost light-headed. She loved me. I was one hundred per cent sure she loved me.

BRUCE Did Joy love Pete? I don't know. I guess the pat answer would be, in her way. It's not as if they lived together, is it? Hell, he was paying her to stay in Surin, hundreds of miles away. She was a young girl, twenty-one. She needed stimulation, things to do, parties to go to. She'd worked in a go-go bar, lots of music, drugs, people coming and going. Whichever way you look at it, that's got to be more exciting than planting rice, hasn't it? Love isn't a result of paying money, is it?

And that's what he was doing, really. Sure, he was taking her out for dinner, going to movies with her, sleeping with her. But he wasn't living with her, he wasn't sharing his life with her, and that's where love grows. If you ask me, he was treating her like a mia noy, a minor wife. She was only getting a small part of his life, and for a girl her age, that's not enough. Now Troy, Troy's totally different. I know Troy loves me. I can see from the way Troy looks at me that she loves me with all her heart.

It was funny how quickly I got used to having her around. She never enjoyed working in Spicy-a-go-go in the first place, and she kept coming up with reasons not to go in. I didn't mind.

I'd been spending too much time sitting outside the bar anyway when she was there. The fact she was in the house made me keener to get home. We'd eat together, she's a great cook, simple food,

spicy the way I like it, and then we'd watch TV together. She liked to watch Thai game shows and chat shows and she'd explain the jokes to me. Sometimes we'd just sit and talk. Her English isn't very good and my Thai is so-so, but we managed to talk for hours. I was never bored with her. I'd tell her about my childhood, about Newcastle, about what I planned to do with Saravoot's factory. She slept in my bed, not for the sex, it really wasn't for the sex, it was just that I wanted her close by. She'd sleep wrapped around me as if she was frightened of losing me.

She brought a few clothes around, and stuff she needed for the kitchen, and I gave her one of the bathroom shelves for her wash things. She did the shopping and she'd always leave the receipt and any change on the kitchen table as if she wanted to prove to me that it wasn't about money. I gave her some, of course, because she wasn't working as much as she used to, and she had to send money back to her family. She had a baby, a two-year-old, that her mother and elder sister looked after while she was in Bangkok. Her husband was a right bastard, used to knock her around and ran off soon after the baby was born. Now she didn't like Thai men, she said.

She cooked, too. Always Thai food, she couldn't get the hang of farang recipes. The fridge was full of herbs and spices and plastic bags of things I couldn't identify. She used to make up batches of sauces and pastes, some of them so hot they could burn the roof off your mouth. Her nam prik was the best I've ever tasted. I used to love watching her cook, she was always so intense about it, as if her life depended on getting it right.

One night, as we lay in bed, I asked her what she wanted out of life. She was playing with my beard, wrapping the hair around her fingers and tugging it gently. “I want good man to love me,”

she said. “I want someone take care of me. I want someone to love.”

I asked her if she wanted to go to school, to learn English or computers, something that would help her get a better job.

“I too stupid,” she said, which fair broke my heart because if there's one thing she's most definitely not it's stupid.

I asked what job she'd like to do, if she could do anything. “I want to be your maid,” she said softly. “I want to take care of you every day.”

That wasn't on because I already had a maid, a woman in her sixties who Saravoot sends in to keep the place clean and look after my laundry. I offered to find her work at the handbag factory.

I was pretty sure I could get her a job somewhere, either on the sewing machines or in quality control.

She didn't say anything for a while. “Your factory very far away, Bruce. How I get there?”

I knew what she wanted. She was hoping that I'd offer to let her travel in with me every day,

and that would mean she'd be living with me all the time.

“Some of the people who work in the factory live there,” I told her. “They have rooms, and they get their food.” They were dormitories rather than rooms, but I figured that once she saw the living quarters she'd be happy. From what she'd told me, anything would be an improvement on her house in Nong Khai.

“You want me live in factory?” she said.

“It's up to you,” I said. “Why don't you come in and have a look for yourself.”

“Okay,” she said, snuggling up against me. “If you want, I want too.”

From COOKING ACROSS SOUTH-EAST ASIA Edited by PETE RAYMOND NAM PRIK (Prawn paste relish)

3 cloves garlic, chopped 1 tablespoon dried shrimps, rinsed and chopped 1 tablespoon fish sauce 2 tablespoons lime juice 5-10 small green chillies 1 tablespoon palm sugar 3 dried red chillies with seeds, chopped Use a pestle and mortar to grind together the shrimps, garlic, and dried chillies to a paste. Stir in the fish sauce, lime juice and palm sugar. Mix well and transfer paste to a small bowl. It can be stored for up to one week in a covered jar in the refrigerator.

PETE Joy was waiting by the phone in Surin the next time I called. And the next. On one occasion it was pouring with rain, I could hear the drops pounding off a corrugated iron roof in the distance.

“Pete, I very wet,” she giggled. “Have rain too much.” She kept asking me when I'd be coming back to Thailand, kept saying how much she missed me. I told her that I'd be back as soon as possible, but that I had to do a lot of work on the book. “I understand, Pete,” she said solemnly.

“I wait for you. I be good girl for you.” She told me she was spending most of the day at her roadside stall, selling fuel to passing vehicles.

I told her I'd written to her and she said she'd written many letters to me. “Maybe I write too much,“ she said. ”Because I miss you, I want you know how I feel.”

I felt bad at not trusting her, how could I ever have doubted her? Everything I ever asked her to do she did, with a smile. With love. After I'd said goodbye I went straight back to work. I wanted to get the book finished as quickly as possible so that I could get back to her.

I'd been in London just over a week when the letters arrived. Five of them, from Thailand. My handwriting on the envelope. I ripped them open and read them one by one.

July 8.

Dear Pete -

I'm sorry for everything Joy make you not happy. But in my heart I love you too much. I have you only one. But I not want have big problem with you. Pete, listen to me. I want you understand me. Pete, what I do? How I do? Pete, everything I do I want make you happy heart. But every time you think I lie to you. Pete, sometime Joy no good. Sometime Joy be good. Pete, I want you know me. Every time I love you. I love you a lot. I miss you all the time.

Joy.

July 9.

Hello my love - Are you happy in England? I hope you very happy heart in your house. What do you do now? You have a little time to think about me? or you forget me? Pete, now I want see you.

I want talk with you. I want kiss you. Now I lonely. I want you live in Bangkok with me all the time. I like to see you and talk with you every day. Sometimes I have a big problem but I happy because I can talk with you. I think about you and me every day. I love you and have you in my heart only one. Miss you all the time.

Joy.

July 10.

From Joy.

Dear Pete -

Pete, where you stay now? I want to see you now. This time you have time can you think about me? For me I think about you too much. I want you come back to Bangkok now. I want you come see me, talk with me. Pete, when you with me, I very happy heart with you.

I like have you stay with me all the time. I happy when I see you, I talk with you. Pete, I hope you not forget me and you love me. I cannot stop love you. I love you when I die. I love you too much.

Joy.

July 11.

Hello my love -

Pete I want you give back my heart to me now because I think about you too much. Pete, I cannot sleep. I not want to do anything. Pete, when you come back Bangkok to see me?

Pete, this time what you do? Pete, I hope your book be good, for your book I not like you have big problem. I want your book everything be good. I happy heart to you too because I not want you stay in England long time. I want see you and kiss you now. When you have my letter I want you smile and miss me. I hope you come to see me soon. Love you and miss you too much.

Joy.

July 14.

For my love -

Hello Pete. How are you? What do you do now? Pete, when your book not have big problem? Now what you think? You tired heart or happy heart? I hope you very happy heart for your book and happy in England. Pete, when you live in England you be happy because you not have big problem every day. If you very happy heart when you live in England, I very happy heart for you too. I not want you think too much, and not have big problem everyday. I want see you, talk with you. I love you all the time. Only you. When you come to see me, I very happy in my heart.

Joy.

In one of the letters she'd included a purple and white flower petal. I held it and smelled it as I reread the letters. I wondered how long it had taken her to write each one. Hours, maybe.

Without a dictionary, too. She must have laboured over each one. I could picture her sitting on the bed, frowning as she struggled with English spelling and grammar. I wished I could hold her in my arms and press her against me and tell her how much I loved her. I'd only been away for just over a week but it felt like an eternity.

A week? I picked up the envelopes. She'd used the ones that I'd given her in Bangkok,

addressed to me in my handwriting. I'd left Bangkok on July 8. I'd received the letters on the 17th. Mail normally took about a week to get to England from Thailand. I flicked through the letters. She'd obviously written the first one on the day I'd left. The last one had been written on the 14th, three days ago. Three days? That didn't make sense. There was no way a letter could reach me in three days. I looked at the postmarks on the five air mail envelopes. They all bore the same date. July 8. I dropped the envelopes on the coffee table and sat on the sofa with my head in my hands. She'd posted all five letters at the same time, on the day I'd left Bangkok. But each letter had been dated differently. Why? If she'd posted them all on July 8, why hadn't she put them in the same envelope? And if she'd written them all on July 8, why the different dates on the letters? I remembered what Big Ron had said about the standard con, about the girl having her mail redirected so that she could carry on working without the farang knowing. Is that what Joy was doing? No, that was impossible, I'd been calling her every two days and she was always there,

waiting for my call. It didn't make any sense. If she'd written the letters at the same time, which she obviously had, then why hadn't she put them in the one envelope?

JOY The letters? Yeah, that was my father's fault, I guess. I was actually quite offended when Pete gave me the stamped addressed envelopes. It was as if he was saying that my English wasn't good enough, that he couldn't trust me to write his address on my own. I didn't say anything, of course. That would have been rude. So I just smiled and took them. I don't know why farangs make such a big thing about letters. They don't mean anything, not really. Most of the girls in Zombie send letters to their farangs, but they don't write them themselves. And when the farangs write back, the girls don't read them. Most of the letters they get are in English or German anyway, and besides, who cares what they say? It's always, “are you being a good girl?”, or “please don't work in the bar” or “do you love me?” The only thing the girls care about is if there's any money in the letter. That's how a farang can show how much he loves a girl - send her money. Anything else is just whistling in the wind, that's what I always say.

As soon as I got back home I wrote to Pete. I actually wrote seven letters and put one in each envelope. I figured I'd get one of my sisters to post them while I went over to see my friends in Khorat. I mean, I wasn't going to say anything different, was I? It wasn't as if I was doing anything exciting, I was just helping my father on the farm, selling oil in my brother-in-law's garage, just run-of-the-mill stuff. So I wrote seven letters, telling him how much I missed him,

how much I loved him, all that sort of sweet-mouth stuff that farangs like. I left the letters on the kitchen table and went outside to wash. When I came back the letters had gone. I didn't notice at first, and when I did notice I just assumed that someone had put them away. It was only next morning when the family was having breakfast that I asked where they were.

“I posted them,” said my father.

“You what?”

“I posted them. I took them to the post office yesterday afternoon.”

I wanted to cry. I'd spent almost two hours writing them, and it'd all been a waste of time. My father asked me what was wrong but I couldn't tell him. He wouldn't understand, he probably didn't even realise that they were all going to the same address. If anything, I suppose it was Pete's fault, really. If he'd trusted me to get my own envelopes, I wouldn't have written them all at the same time.

At least I had a week or so to work out how I was going to explain it to Pete. I was sure I'd think of something. If there's one thing I've learned during my time in Nana Plaza, it's that love makes farangs blind.

PHIRAPHAN I took my assistant, Malee, up to Surin with me to add to my cover. There was no way I could breeze into Joy's village asking questions, her family would smell a rat straight away. I had fake Government credentials showing that I worked for the Ministry of the Interior and I had a briefcase full of files. We started about a mile away from Joy's house, telling people that we were acting for a new agency which was offering loans and grants to girls who'd worked in bars in the city but who'd returned to their village. The Government wanted to help girls who'd turned their back on prostitution, we said, and we'd ask if they knew of anyone who could benefit from the scheme. We were given Joy's name at several houses on the first day, but we left it two days before calling at her house. It was quite a big place, a wooden house on two floors, three bedrooms upstairs, a big screen TV and a stereo downstairs. They were obviously fairly well off.

Next to the house was a large garage with several pick up trucks which were in the process of being repaired. It was clear that Joy had already been told that we were in the area. As soon as we introduced herself she asked us in and listened intently as I gave her the pitch.

“I used to work night-time in Bangkok,” she said, before I'd even finished.

“Good, good,” I said. I took a form out of my briefcase and gave it to Malee.

She asked Joy for her full Thai name, her date of birth, her ID card number, her educational history. Then she asked the big question. “Marital status?”

“Married,” said Joy.

Bingo. It was so easy. I wasn't surprised, I'd used the Government grant scam more than a dozen times. Malee doesn't bat an eyelid. “Husband's name?” she says.

Joy gives her the name, and his date of birth.

“Is your husband here?” I ask. “Because we could make it a joint application.”

Joy calls over to four young men who were watching a boxing match on TV. “Park, come here!” she yells.

A guy in his twenties came over. He was well built as if he worked out, with a square face and slightly bulging eyes. He wasn't exactly good-looking, but he had a friendly smile and I could see from the way that Malee looked at him that women liked him. Joy introduced him and he sat down next to her. Malee asked him for his ID card number and his educational qualifications,

then she asked Joy what she'd do if she was given a Government grant.

“I'd start up a factory in my village so that people here could work,” she said.

Malee wrote down what Joy said, though I didn't believe it for one minute. Then she pushed the form across the table and asked them both to sign it.

I took a small camera out of my pocket. “And just to make it official, I have to take your photograph,“ I said. ”It minimises the possibility of fraud.”

Joy and Park nodded and moved closer together so that I could get them both in. I took the photograph, put the camera and the form in my briefcase, and left with Malee. Before we got in the car I took a photograph of the house and the garage next to it.

I dropped Malee at the bus station in Surin so that she could go back to Bangkok. I stayed on for a couple of days with my girlfriend and had a great time. I told her about Pete and Joy and she laughed until she cried. “Why are farangs so stupid?” she asked and I had no answer to that.

PETE When I called Joy and asked her about the letters she'd sent, she started giggling. “I want send letters too much,“ she said. ”I joking with you.” I said I didn't get the joke, but she just laughed.

“I want you know I miss you too much. I think funny if you get many letters together,” she said.

I asked her why she'd put different dates on the letters but she didn't have an explanation for that,

she just kept saying it was a joke, that she wanted me to smile when I read them.

Joy asked me if I'd be back in Thailand for her birthday, September 8, and I said I'd do my best. Work was going well and if I kept working as hard as I had been, there was a good chance I'd get it finished before the end of August. “I want see you on my birthday,” she said. “Everyone here want see you too much. My father, my brother, everybody. Maybe we have party, okay?”

I said, sure, we'd have a party if I could get back in time. I asked Joy how she spent her time in Surin. She said she worked all day and in the evening she watched television with her brother and father. I asked her if she was bored. She said she was but that she was happy because I was happy. She'd do whatever I asked. I felt really guilty at not trusting her before. I wondered what Phiraphan was doing, whether or not he'd started his investigation. I was sure he'd be wasting his time. Joy was doing exactly as I'd asked, she'd gone back to the family home to wait for me. I'd called her every couple of days and she'd always been there, there was no question of her still working in Bangkok. She wasn't trying to con me, I was certain. She loved me and she was proving it.

After I hung up I went out and bought a card for her, a view of a grinning London bobby in front of a bus, and I wrote a message to say how much I missed her and how much I loved her. I put ten thousand baht in the envelope and posted it Swiftpost so it would get to her quickly. I did miss her, more than I could explain in words. There was a cold, hollow place in the pit of my stomach, a constant reminder that she wasn't around. I missed her smile, I missed her laugh, the smell of her hair and the feel of her body pressed up against mine. I missed the way she'd reach for me in her sleep, her hand brushing against the sheet as it sought mine, her fingers slipping between mine. I missed watching her shower, watching her dress, watching her put on her nailvarnish, the tip of her tongue between her teeth as she frowned in concentration. I missed her so much that I ached and the only way I could express it was to send her ten thousand baht.