Bar Girl by David Thompson Page A

zipped past her, their drivers, sometimes their passengers, cast her a glance. No smiles. No signs of recognition.
    She sat down on the grass bank that enclosed the central lake of the park and watched as people walked by. So many people. Out for an evening stroll. Some with partners. Some alone. They all walked by.
    She bent down towards the water. Scooped some in her hands and rinsed her face and arms. A couple walking by, paused to watch, then walked on, laughing. Siswan didn’t mind. At least they had seen her. Made a comment concerning her existence. She had begun to think that perhaps she had become invisible. She rinsed the water through her hair. Pulled her fingers through it. Tried for a semblance of normality.
    She collected her thoughts. She needed to eat and sleep somewhere. The small street cafes over the road may be able to help. There must be something she could do to earn a bed for the night.
    Crossing the road, she looked along the row of small eating areas. They were nothing more than rattan mats spread out over the pavement. The customers sat cross legged on cushions as they ate the meals prepared on small charcoal grilles. Siswan wandered up to the first and stood looking at the meats being slowly grilled by an old woman.
    ‘Yes?’ The old woman was looking at her expectantly.
    ‘Hello.’ Siswan gave her a wai. The old woman smiled in reply.
    ‘Do you want to eat?’ she asked.
    ‘Can I work for you?’ Siswan asked, in all innocence.
    The old woman cackled. She revealed black stumps of teeth and a yellow coated tongue.
    ‘Why?’ she asked.
    ‘I have nowhere to go. I need a bed, somewhere to shower. Food,’ Siswan told her.
    ‘So do I,’ the old woman cackled again. ‘No. No work here.’
    Siswan left her and wandered down the road to the next. The story was the same. No work. No bed. No food. She tried every cafe along that road and then the next. Nothing. No work. No help. No pity offered and none expected.
    By the time she got back to the park, the street cafes were closing. There were less people about. The old woman with the black teeth was collecting her cushions. She looked crooked, old and frail as she bent to pick them up and load them into the trailer attached to her old motorbike. Siswan wandered over and started to roll up the rattan mats.
    ‘I told you before. No work. Not here,’ the old woman told her.
    ‘I know. I heard you. I’m only helping you, that’s all,’ Siswan replied.
    ‘So you think I’ll take pity on you, is that it?’
    ‘No. I’m just helping. You don’t have to talk.’ Siswan bent and rolled another mat.
    ‘I won’t, you know,’ the old woman said, as she took the mats. ‘I’ve already told you.’
    Siswan didn’t reply. She just collected the rest of the mats, stored them in the old trailer, and then wandered back across the street to the park.
    She guessed she could sleep there for the night. It didn’t look like it was going to rain. She heard the old woman start the motorbike behind her. Heard it pull away from the kerb.
    ‘Here.’ The shout came from behind her.
    Siswan turned. The old woman had driven across the road and was sat on her bike holding one of the mats out.
    ‘Make sure you bring it back tomorrow.’
    ‘I will. Thank you,’ Siswan said and took the proffered mat.
    It was the first act of kindness she had seen since leaving home. She was grateful for the mat. She gave a wai to the old woman who, after looking at her a moment longer, drove off down the road.
    That night, Siswan lay on the rattan mat in the park. She had made her bed under the branches of a big old blossom tree that stood to one side of the small lake. She used her small bundle of clothes as a pillow. In her hand she held the small knife. The blade was very sharp and she made sure she didn’t cut herself in her sleep.
    She spent a total of eight nights sleeping in the park before having to move on. Eight nights alone in the dark. She had been disturbed only