The Trafficked

66

‘Yes, I understand what you’re saying-by tomorrow morning it will all be over, but, if I don’t hear from you, I will do what I have to.’

Suzanne was talking to Lenny. Amy could hear it in her voice. She must be talking to him because she was speaking English and it was in a softer, higher tone than when she talked to others. But Amy could tell she was irritable. After she had finished the phone call, Amy listened to her pace around the flat, and then she burst into the room making Amy jump. Amy was sitting at her table working on the necklace for Suzanne. She had constructed the best necklace ever. She had put a lot of thought into it.

‘Get off that chair and come here.’

Amy blinked hard, slipped her brace out of her mouth and surreptitiously slipped it into the bead box, hoping that Suzanne wouldn’t notice.

‘Yes, Suzanne?’

‘I’ve bought you some clothes to wear, put them on.’ She threw some things at Amy. Amy caught them full in the face. She was the worst catcher in the world. When they had to pick teams for netball she was always the last one to be chosen.

Amy picked them up and looked at them: two items-a denim mini-skirt and a white cotton stretchy boob tube.

‘They’ll be tight on you, but they should do the job. Put them on.’

Amy blinked up at Suzanne.

‘Go in the bathroom then, just get on with it.’

Amy disappeared into the bathroom and came out with the outfit on. Suzanne picked up the chair and dragged it to the centre of the room where there was good light and she could see what she was doing.

‘SIT.’

Amy did as she was told.

Suzanne pulled out her makeup bag from her handbag and began examining Amy’s face. She took off her glasses. Amy sat patiently whilst Suzanne made her up. When she’d finished, Suzanne sat back to admire her work.

‘There, that ought to do it…’ she giggled.

Amy didn’t know what to say. She was waiting to be given permission to move.

‘Well, go and have a look at yourself, and for fuck’s sake, don’t you smudge it.’

Amy got off the chair gingerly. She stared at her reflection. A pale-faced, rosy-cheeked doll stared back. Her eyes were blackened with kohl, her lashes long. Her lips were bright red. Amy’s eyes flicked back and forth over the image. It fascinated her. She reached to touch the mirror. It was true-it was her. She smiled and was alarmed that the girl smiled too. Boy, would her mummy be mad if she saw her looking like this!

Suzanne’s phone went off. It was Sunny, Amy could tell by the way she barked at him like a yappy dog. Amy stayed in the bathroom and continued to stare at her reflection. Something bad was happening. This wasn’t the usual.

‘Tomorrow morning it all kicks off. We move the merchandise over to the Filipinas’ house, and then we start the auction.’

Suzanne hung up, and Amy waited for a few seconds before she called out from the bathroom: ‘Suzanne? Have you got a different outfit? I don’t think it really fits me.’

Suzanne laughed. ‘It doesn’t need to fit you. Come out and let me see.’

Amy stepped gingerly out of the bathroom. The white top clung to her fat pointy breasts. The rolls of fat around her stomach meant that the skirt, which was supposed to rest on her hip bones, got snagged above her waist and stopped where it met her stubby, shapeless legs-it barely covered her square bottom. Amy tugged at it but it wouldn’t budge.

‘Thank you for doing my makeup and bringing me these clothes. Shall I make you a drink, Suzanne?’

Suzanne considered it, then she looked at her watch.

‘Why not? We have a long night ahead. Make it a weak one. I have loads to do tomorrow.’

Amy went into the lounge. She carried the bottle of gin and the tonic, a glass, a plate of sliced lemons all on a tray. Very carefully she came in; the tray was tinkling as the contents touched each other. Amy set the tray down.

‘Then, please, Suzanne, can I brush your hair?’

She began mixing the drink the way she had learned. But, tonight was different.

‘Pour yourself one too, Amy. Pour a gin out. Do it.’

Amy did as she was told. She made one drink for Suzanne and one for herself. She tasted it.

‘Yuk-that’s disgusting.’ She shivered and stood with her stomach sticking out, making a face. She undid the skirt at the front and her stomach seemed to expand by six inches. ‘I feel sick.’

Suzanne giggled. ‘Do my hair now.’ She sat down and waited for Amy to get the brushes. Amy poured another gin for her.

‘You can drink, can’t you, Suzanne, because you don’t have to go anywhere this night. You have to sleep here.’

‘Yes, fucking Sunny and that new guy who never says a fuckin’ word, Pat, they’ve got something else to do-and I’m stuck here with you for company!’

‘I am sorry.’

‘So am I, believe me.’ She downed her drink.

Amy filled up her glass again.

‘And what the fuck have you done to that lamp?’ Suzanne stared at the wire frame of the raffia lamp.

‘Sorry, Suzanne, it just fell apart. I was touching it-I just noticed there was a thread-I started to pull…’

‘All right, all right-you don’t have to go into so much fucking detail. Thank fuck we won’t have to stare at all this crap for much longer.’

‘Can I go back to school, Suzanne?’

Suzanne laughed again. She was getting drunk, Amy could tell.

‘You’ll be learning something very important soon, believe me-now brush my hair and stop talking.’

Amy took long, even strokes as Suzanne closed her eyes and relaxed. Amy looked at the bottle of gin. It was two-thirds empty.

‘Can I tie your hair up on top of your head into a bun, Suzanne?’

‘Do what you want.’

‘Here, Suzanne-you haven’t had hardly any gin.’

Suzanne’s eyes opened and she drank the rest of her glass. Amy filled it up again. This time with three-quarters’ gin and a quarter of tonic water.

Suzanne tasted it. ‘Fucking hell. What are you trying to do? That’s way too strong.’

‘Sorry, Suzanne.’ Amy went to take the glass off her and put some more tonic water in, but Suzanne snatched it back.

‘It doesn’t matter. I feel like getting drunk anyway. This is a celebration, Amy. Tonight is the night that Lenny has promised to leave his ugly little wife and marry me.’

‘Do you want to lie down, Suzanne? I can give you a foot massage.’

Suzanne looked at Amy curiously then kicked off her shoes.

‘Okay, why not? There’s nothing else to do. Here…’ Suzanne fished in her makeup bag and found some almond oil she used on her cuticles. ‘Use this, but don’t waste it.’

‘Thank you, Suzanne.’ Amy put it carefully down beside her whilst she slid Suzanne’s pop socks off. Suzanne had painted toes-so pretty, thought Amy.

‘And get me some paracetamol out of my bag-give me four-I have a thumping headache.’

Amy looked around for Suzanne’s bag. She found the pills. She gave four tablets to Suzanne, who swallowed them down with gin. Amy began to massage Suzanne’s feet. She looked at Suzanne’s handbag. The bottle of sleeping pills sat on the top. Amy kept her eyes on Suzanne, whilst she eased one hand gently across and tucked the bottle back inside the bag.