Something’s Floating

A short dark story, set in Bangkok

‘AND WHAT ABOUT your market stall?’

‘Can I have a break?’

‘You’ve got regular visitors, you don’t want to lose them,’ Geoff said.

‘I’ve been running that stall for three years, non-stop,’ she put her hands up, ‘Okay, I’ve had Christmas Day off. Forgive me,’ said Nancy.

‘Well, I suppose, if you have to.’

‘My sister will run it. Don’t worry.’

‘Your sister can’t cook like you.’

‘Here she is.’

‘Hi Nancy, hello Geoff. Time for my lesson,’ said Paula.

Ingredients appeared from every hid-y-hole in the home kitchen.

‘When you are at the market, don’t forget you only need to “freshen up” the food; ninety per cent is done here. Just flash everything up in the wok; it’s mainly for show. Punters love it. Any questions?’

‘Nah, I reckon I’ve got it,’ smiled Paula.

Geoff's grunt did nothing to cheer the sisters.

‘Did you ever try cooking, or for that matter, working?’ asked Paula. Her sister kicked her in the shin.

Two days later, Nancy landed at Suvarnabhumi Airport. She was whisked straight to Maikhaw Resort, a few minutes walk from the famous Damnoen Saduak Floating Market.

‘This is not a holiday. It is part of my education.’ She said to herself as the hotel’s bar called to her. ‘One or two will not harm,’ she said as she tipped back a Sang Som and Coke. She rubbed the bruises on her throat. ‘A few days away from that arsehole of a husband, too, couldn’t be better,’ as she downed another glass. She checked her watch and realised she needed an early night; the market starts at around seven am. She would need her wits about her.

As the taxi dropped her off, she guessed she could have walked it. ‘Never mind, live and learn,’ she whistled as she peered over the bridge to the river below. ‘There we are, that’s the one for me,’ she pointed and skipped to the water’s edge.

‘Hello, madam. What would you like?’ The lady looked up from her wok and suddenly lost her smile.

‘Hi, do you remember me? I'm the person who pesters you on Facebook. I’m here to learn from you. I hope you don’t mind.’

‘Are you the English woman who emailed my husband?’

‘Yes, his English is excellent. His name is Jak, is that right? And you are Khun Lek?’

‘What do you want?’

‘I want to learn your skills.’

‘I am not a teacher; I’m just a cook who sells food to folks who visit the floating market.’

‘Yes, I know. But your dishes look wonderful. I followed your page.’

‘But my page is for family. Can you read Thai?’

‘No, I wish I could. Now I’ve seen you at work, I want to learn more,’ Nancy said with a smile. ‘I expect to pay. Tell me how much you will charge.’

‘Sit on the river’s edge until I’ve sold all my food, then you can come to my house,’ she said. Nancy bought a bowl of crispy tofu and a charred asparagus stir-fry. ‘Crispy tofu, different, it seems meaty. My God, it is wonderful.’

As the hours passed, Nancy watched carefully and noticed most of the buyers were Thai. In fact, Thais queued up; the tourists moved to the next-door boat.

‘You won’t tip my boat, will you?’ Lek asked.

‘It is a new experience for me. Are you sure we are balanced?’

Lek held on to the concrete edge. Slowly and carefully, like a cat approaching a bird, Nancy stepped in. She sat and puffed with relief. Lek started paddling away from the thinning crowd.

Twenty minutes against the flow, Lek turned right into a narrow gully and pulled up next to a large wooden two-storey house.

‘You get out; I will try to keep us balanced,’ said Lek.

Nancy leant out and crawled on her knees to the grassy edge. ‘Made it,’ she breathed her success.

’As you are here, you can help me carry my stuff,’ said Lek.

Jak came to the front door and met the ladies. ‘Welcome, welcome to our little place of abode,’ he said, and with a showman’s grace, he pointed the way in.

‘Wow, this is gorgeous,’ said Nancy, admiring the antiques and oil paintings. ‘You have a lovely home.’

As Nancy looked around, Jak presented his guest with a glass of water.

‘Oh, don’t worry about Lek, she needs a shower and a change of clothes after work.’

Jak had moved behind Nancy and placed his hands on her shoulders; she twitched and shrugged them off. She turned and stared eye to eye.

‘Here she comes,’ Jak said as he watched his wife glide across the teak flooring.

‘Would you like to look around before we start your lesson?’ said Lek.

‘I think we should better start learning in the kitchen. I guess that your time is limited,’ said Nancy.

‘Most students want to see our house before the lesson starts,’ she said.

‘Okay, but please ring for a taxi to collect me in, what, two hours?’

Jak nodded and stretched for his mobile.

Lek took Nancy’s hand and led her to the stairs.

‘This is our bedroom,’ she said as she opened the door.

‘It is beautiful; all your paintings and carvings are gorgeous. I’m not being rude, but Khun Jak must have a good job?’

‘My husband does not work. Only plays around at home.’

‘Wow, you are doing much better with your cooking than I do in England.’

‘Come on, you have another room to see.’

Jak padded up the stairs, holding a tray laden with food.

‘Oh, no, please no. I couldn’t eat another thing,’ said Nancy.

‘This is not for you,’ said Lek as she shoved Nancy through the opposite door. A meaty clang rang as a steel door crashed into the far wall. A fat teenage girl curled up, weeping in the corner.

‘Here’s your food, darling,’ said Jak.

The barred door slammed shut. ‘Sorry, there are no taxis available just now.’

Nancy rushed across to the girl and put her arm on the girl's shoulder.

‘Don’t cry, it will be okay,’ she said.

‘Please don’t fill her small head with falsehoods,’ said Jak.

‘Enough is enough, let us out. A joke is a joke. What are you playing at?’ Nancy searched her pockets.

Lek waved a mobile phone at her, ‘It is not only cooking I’m good at,’ she sneered.

Hours later, Jak arrived, sharpening a carving knife.

‘You see, we are famous for having the best ingredients.’

The END

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