“my first time” explained eva, first time in Ireland Ireland Galway , by
the rise of the Euro zone and the lure of hope, fortune and love perhaps. The
couple sitting next to her, were middle aged and irish, the male of the pair
having induced conversation. Eva was twenty one, tall, blond and pretty.
Pat and mary Flynn did their best to
encourage the tourist industry, Pat more so than mary.
“did you ever hear of the Galway Races” he
asked, talking slowly.
Her brain not used to English, she just
nodded. Waiting for a contact to come and pick her up, no work papers on her,
she was thrilled at the warmth of the older pair but suspicious also. She tried
to limit the conversation as best she could, saying little.
“pat we’ll miss our train” quipped mary,
envying the good looks of the much younger woman.
“goodbye now”
she watched them go out the door, not cops,
not cops. Cops didn’t hold hands and open doors for each other. She looked at
her watch, he was an hour late. Her focus was the entrance, he would come in
that way she thinking.
“more coffee madam” asked a waiter passing
by. She shook her head and smiled. She knew the word for bathroom was bathroom.
Her bag was small, a hold all. She was told to bring few clothes as she would
be able to buy a wardrobe once she worked a week. Five hundred euros for a week
cleaning was a months salary back home. Other friends had made the trip and
come home safely. She was catholic, believed in God. Ireland was catholic
country, and the irish were well known around the world for their human rights
work, bono in particular, bob geldof, and hosts of others. No place was safer
in Europe she heard. And there were no
Albanians here, made her feel safer even.
A four star hotel, with bay windows
overlooking a square, hence the name Eyre
Square Galway an
old historic town, seemed a perfect place to start. It was reassuring to see
people happy. Back home, her local town was dilapidated, people out of work,
options were few.
An hour passed, nervousness grew. The
waiter had twice passed her, would he call the cops, what if something happened
to her friend, she couldn’t ring home, she couldn’t call the cops. The coffee
was the most expensive coffee she’d ever had, two euro’s, only tea was cheaper on the afternoon menu. Picked
up that morning at Dublin Galway train by another Latvian friend, she was given
instructions. Hotel was near station, around a corner, she had a map but no
mobile phone. Irish police she was told monitored mobile phones hoping to find
illegal workers. So no phone, she could buy one once she had a job and was settled
in. up to one hour ago, the plan had worked perfectly. Panicky, she told
herself not to worry, this is Ireland Latvia
She watched him instead of the door, a
little more relaxed.
Conor Dolan was raging, fuming, his
knuckles as white as the gleaming white five series BMW he was driving. Stuck if fucking traffic,
can’t they organise shit he fumed. On the headford road, a main artery into the
city, he was behind schedule. I’ll kill the bollox, he’s dead he fumed,
referring to mad boy magill, the reason he was behind time and in the middle of
the late afternoon traffic rush. Everywhere he looked he was surrounded by
metal, cars sideways behind in front, about to vent his anger into his mobile
phone, it rang instead. Every little thing she does is magic, the ring tone,
the song made famous by the English boy band of the eighties, “The Police”.
“this better be good, I need good news” he
said, speaking nicely for one so angry seconds earlier. Mario looked over at
Eva, his eyes combing her legs, sizing her up, as he gave full description and
potential to his unofficial employer/boss.
“I might keep her for myself if that’s’ the
case” he laughed before hanging up.
it must be karma he smiled to himself, the
traffic beginning to move, the reason for the hold up a bit more obvious. Two
cars collided on a roundabout, closing one lane.
Scammers fucking scammers, being one
himself he knew the routine well. Faking an accident on a roundabout was as
simple as removing the break lights in the rear, the car behind having no
chance once you break, insurance company pays out. Cops total tools he told
himself passing a bunch of them taking instructions etc. what a waste of money
too he told himself, counting them, five police officers, two police cars, all
over a two car dint. Whiplash me arse he laughed passing on.
Nearing the southland, his business acumen
kicked in. he threw two fifty
euro notes onto the floor of the passenger side. Money always put people at
ease, especially auctioneers and bankers. Two more notes were left on the seat,
same type. Who ever got into the car would hand them back to him, the ones on
the seat. If they saw the money on the floor, they’d think he was polluted with
the stuff. Valet parking made the routine safe, of leaving money on car seats.
Practiced and sly, whoever got in was
About to have an introduction to life on
earth that is not describable, or for better wording, they would be the ride of
the week at the galway races that were soon approaching, perhaps never going to
recover either, as the slavery of women over decades has proved.
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