A London Holiday

Stefano Costantini

All gone.

All her money.

Thuy couldn't quite believe it. And yet, it was true.

She had to face it: alone, in London, with just a few pounds.

What a change, in just thirty minutes.

Thuy had saved for a year to be able to afford this trip. Working three evenings a week in a bar, after school. She had managed to save enough money to afford the train fare from Hanoi and the first two or three months of accommodation in London.

Here to improve her English, at first.

Then, whatever would come.

The language course had been her excuse to leave home for a while. She hadn't managed to do that during her university years: her parents had managed to convince her that she should stay at home. It just made economic sense, they had said. It did and, as time passed, Thuy had got lazy and never left. It was convenient: all the money she earned from her evening job went into clothes, drinks and eating out.

But, as she was approaching her last year, she felt she had had enough: it was time for her to live on her own, at least for a while. It wasn't just peer pressure, though all her friends were living independent lives now. She had also grown to resent having her parents around all the time.

Coming to London had meant to be the start of a new phase in her life. Maybe she wouldn't stay. Maybe she would. But she had promised herself that she wouldn't go back to live with her parents.

The new phase in her life had just come to an abrupt end. The money she needed: all gone. The money for her rent, for her tuition fees, for food. There was almost none left. She didn't even have the cash for the train fare back to Hanoi.

She could be home in just four hours. But going back would mean that she was accepting her failure, and she wasn't going to do that.

So now she was stuck there. Stuck on Westminster Bridge, where she'd just lost all her money to an old scam: three cups, and guess where the ball is.

It had seemed simple enough, at first. She had seen some guys winning. Winning well.

True, as she had started playing, she had felt a nagging feeling at the back of her head. But after all, it seemed fair. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. Maybe the people of London weren't there to get you all the time.

She had kept playing.

After losing the first couple of times, Thuy couldn't quite believe her bad luck. She had tried again, making sure her eyes would stay on the ball.

But, no, she'd lost again. And again.

And yet again.

Trying to get her luck back, round after round, one hundred pounds at a time, Thuy had spent almost all her money.

How could she?

"Stupid. Stupid. Stupid." Thuy thought.

***

In London, there's no compassion.

And you don't get far without money.

Thuy was alone against a flood of strangers. Each interested just in themselves, as if the outside world didn't exist, unless it threatened to break into their sphere of individuality.

She wanted to cry.

Just for a moment.

But she knew she couldn't just stay there waiting for a solution to come to her.

She wasn't too worried. She knew that she could get hold of her family easily. She just didn't want to do that. Of course they would have helped her, had she asked. But they would have also thought that she couldn't handle things on her own. That she still needed mummy and daddy.

She couldn't let them have it. Not so soon.

She wasn't scared. This was an annoyance more than anything else. She thought she could work it out.

Thuy decided that the first thing was getting back home. Back to the room she had rented three days before and that had paid in advance for a week. Basically she had three days before they would kick her out. During this time, she would need to find a solution to her problem.

Her only option was to walk. All the way from Westminster Bridge. She had re-charged her subcutaneous implant only two days before, but she had spent all her time travelling around the city since then.

Being a tourist. A dumb one.

Thuy had been lucky. She had found a room in a nice area, perhaps too nice. During her first couple of days in Peckham, Thuy had walked fast from her accommodation to the local transport link station. She didn't want to be seen. Her clothes were out of place there. Five hundred millions pound terraced houses lined her street. The people there were wealthy beyond Thuy's imagination. Just the cars parked in the street were enough to make her feel little and insignificant.

Peckham was an old money area. Thuy had read somewhere that a few century before the area was rather different, but it was hard to believe now. Everything seemed so established that Thuy struggle to picture how the place must have been two hundred years before. Things had changed fast, but the present felt permanent.

When she had told her friends she wanted to go to London, many of them had questioned her decision. According to them, London was one of the most boring places she could have picked. A small city of twenty-five million people, London had long lost the edge it used to have in the twenty-first century.

It was a grey place.

And dull, according to most.

If you had money, you could live well in London. But there wasn't much to do, apart from working, and, if you were a tourist, seeing the few sights that were left.

The floods of 2114 and 2125 had destroyed some once-famous landmarks. The first one had turned the Tower of London, the Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament into no-go areas. Then, with the second one, these old structures had collapsed under their own weight. The government had made a few timid attempts at raising private funds to rebuild them, but no one had shown any interest. Not even the public, which preferred the government to use its meager resources to prop up the ailing national health service.

After all, there was no actual need for a place to house the parliament. A ruling oligarchy managed the country's affairs. Elections were still held every five years or so, but they were a formality, not to let old traditions go away. Most of the legislative debate, or, at least, the little that was still left, had moved to an online platform. There was no need for people to show their face in parliament. So, when it got destroyed, no one had bothered building it again.

Luxury flat now overlooked Westminster Bridge.

They looked at Thuy.

She looked back at them. The glass surface reflected a grey sky, which was turning darker.

She turned around and started walking south, to what would be her home for at least forty-eight more hours.

***

The walk was long, and lonely.

The walk was long, and lonely.

People didn't walk around in London.

Not that it was dangerous: it was just boring. Miles and miles of residential estates, built in waves, after the last war. A war that had razed lots of buildings south of the river, whilst leaving most of the north part of town unscathed. Over the years, the local authorities had tried to re-interpret the urban landscape, replacing war-stricken buildings.

Low-rise movable capsules had replaced the former high-rise ghettos. Each capsule had space for just a person. The capsules were self-sufficient, but the people living in them were not. Soon they had started moving their capsules, grouping them according to friendship or family ties. Conflicts arose, from time to time. Being in such a close proximity, it was inevitable.

But today looked like a quiet day. Thuy's walk continued undisturbed, apart from the automated cars that kept whooshing past her, every few seconds. They were tailing each other at high speed, their onboard computers making sure they avoided collisions with things and people.

Thuy's legs were getting tired, but soon she noticed she was getting close to Peckham. She started recognising the streets she had walked down that very morning.

Thuy got to her room. It would be hers only for a while more, but, for now, it was still her refuge in the big city.

She decided to get some rest, but not before eating something. She didn't have much credits left, so she couldn't buy anything on her way. But she still had some biscuits in her bag. They were a bit crushed, but she was very hungry. They tasted delicious. She finished them in five minutes. For each biscuits she ate, she enjoyed feeling her mouth filling with dense crumbs, and then washing them down with a sip of cold water.

Thuy knew that would be her last meal, unless she could find a source of income. A job, even badly paid, would allow her to get started again. True, it would be the same thing as when she had all her savings, but it would be a first step towards fixing her mistake.

London would give her another chance.

She decided to take a nap, to get some of her energy back. She put her head on the pillow, and fell asleep quickly.

When she woke up, a few hours later, it was already dark outside. For a brief moment, she didn't remember her problems. Then, a few seconds later, it suddenly dawned on her.

She felt deeper than down, at first.

But she knew she had to get going if she wanted to sort herself out.

Thuy's hand went straight to her backpack, to one of the inside compartments, where she had stashed five energy pills. They were illegal in the UK, so she had brought them over from home. A risk, but she had managed to get them into the country. She was surprised they hadn't found them at the station terminal. But, after all, five energy pills on a south asian girl weren't such a big issue. They probably had bigger things to worry about.

Thuy had brought them over for emergencies.

This qualified as one.

Each pill would give her the energy level she would have after a good night's sleep, but for forty-eight hours straight, without the need for more sleep. Thuy would need that to fix her situation. She swallowed a pill with a bit of the sparkling water she had left. Within a few minutes, she started feeling more awake, more vigilant, and present in the moment. Her mind was sharper, well-tuned.

Using her device, she started browsing job offers. There weren't too many, and most of them didn't seem to pay that well. But Thuy didn't care so much.

***

It didn't take Thuy a long time. She noticed that people were desperate for staff that would take up low-paid jobs. It seemed it was due to the strict immigration controls. By the end of the second decade of the century, the nationalist movement had become more influential. No longer able to ignore its weight, the traditional politicians had veered towards the right. Sure, tourists and student were still welcomed, and with open hands. After all they brought in cash. But no foreign citizen was allowed to get a job. Not even a part-time one.

Thuy knew she was doing something slightly illegal. But she had found lots of ads looking for low-skilled employees, no matter the nationality. There were just not enough people around that were willing to do them. Thuy told herself that that she could always claim she wasn't aware of the rule and that it was just a part-time job, to help her support her studies.

She was going to work in a pub, in a London neighbourhood she hadn't heard of until that point. Belgravia. After all, all neighbourhoods were new to her.

Thuy had never worked in an English pub before. She thought that perhaps it would be less hectic that the bar she had worked at while at university. She thought it would be very different. No busy, loud evenings. Rather, she imagined long grey Sunday afternoons, just a few customers scattered around nursing pints of dark beer bathed in the pale light of a nearby window.

Not an appealing thought. Thuy thought she would get bored as hell. But at least she would get some money back.

Her number one priority.

***

The following morning Thuy started walking to her new job. Again, to save the very few credits she had left, she was going to walk the whole way. The now familiar, yet monotonous, landscape of Peckham, first, and South London, later, started unfolding in front of her. She wasn't paying attention though, her mind clouded in thoughts.

She finally reached was used to be the river. The good people of London had paved it over. They had left just a couple of stretches open, in the most touristic areas. In that way, millions of tourists could keep on taking the same photograph a million times over. But the rest of the river course had been paved over to gain land, to build houses and make space for cars.

Thuy noticed that she was crossing the old river only because she saw a sign welcoming her to Upper Thames Square, a new development complex of offices and luxury apartments that had just been completed. Soon people would be able to live on the river, not just by it.

Thuy kept on walking, not quite interested in the latest property developments. After all, she could not get into any of those flats any time soon.

She thought that, if she didn't manage to get any credit that day, she would have to leave her room. She had left all her stuff there. She wasn't even willing to entertain the thought that the she would not make it. No, she told herself that, after her first workday, she would go home to pay her next rent instalment.

Problem solved.

Now she only had to go through her first day. Working in a bar: nothing that she hadn't done before.

Thuy crossed the old river, noticing when she got to the north bank just because there was a sign telling her that. Now she was a little closer to her new job. She had already been walking for a couple of hours, and she reckoned she probably still had about thirty minutes to go. But she knew, or just hoped, that this would be her last walk through the depths of London.

Thuy started going through a derelict part of London. Only the poor lived and worked there now: Chelsea. Thuy could see houses with broken windows and dilapidated front gardens. She noticed that those building had been smart once, some of them even grand. But, as her gaze followed the profile of the buildings down to the street, the world around her went back to grim. Multi-coloured rubbish lined the streets. The vivid colours of plastic bottles offsetting the paleness of rotten vegetables.

Thuy didn't feel unsafe. After all she didn't have anything worth stealing. Everybody could see that she was just a student.

She wondered whether there would be any customers in the pub. Without much money to go around, only few people would spend theirs on drinks. Or maybe they would, to kick away the quiet desperation that enveloped their daily lives. Thuy also knew that people had to drink a lot, thanks to the new vaccine.

She pushed on. She didn't want to be late on her first day.

***

A derelict building. She could see that the place had been grand once. It must have been at least fifty years before.

It looked quiet.

Thuy waited outside the place for about five minutes. She checked the address a couple of times, just to be sure. In those five minutes, no one went in or left.

Thuy was about to turn around, but she needed the money.

She went in.

Behind the bar was a man, probably in his seventies. He looked kind, and when he saw her, he immediately smiled.

Thuy felt relieved.

- You must be Thuy, - the man said. - I'm Michael Brookes. The landlord of the Phoenix. Welcome. You've got here just in time, I need help here.

Thuy looked around. There were only two customers. Michael Brookes looked as he could see what she was thinking.

- Well, it's not really that busy, it's true. But we need to get ready for later. It will get busier, and I'm just too old to take care of all of this by myself. That's why I've hired you.

- Thanks, - Thuy said. - I'm happy to help.

She meant it. The place looked friendly. Mr. Brookes would give her the money she needed. And the job looked easy enough.

- Great, - Michael Brookes said. - Now, let's see. I must show you what you need to do. Have you ever worked in a pub?

- In a pub? No. - Thuy said. - I have worked in a bar. Back home.

- That's close enough, probably fewer people here. We should be ok. Come to this side of the bar, and I'll show you were the drinks are.

Thuy dropped her bag on a chair and did as she was told.

- Here are the beers. We only have two types, the government sanctioned ones. Light beer and strong beer. Light beer is about 40% alcohol, whereas strong beer is about 80%. They only allow us to sell these two.

Tired with dealing with the costs of widespread drunkenness, especially at the weekend, the government had introduced a compulsory vaccination that turned people almost insensitive to the effects of alcohol.

This had worked at the beginning. Following old habits, people carried on drinking the same, almost thinking that they were getting drunk as before, when in fact they remained stone cold sober. So, when they spilled out of clubs and bars, they caused minimal disturbance. But soon, people started noticing that the alcohol wasn't having any effect on them. So they started demanding more. The Government, which had acquired the monopoly of all alcoholic beverages, started producing its own brews, to match the people's new taste. Stronger and stronger beers were on offer. And people kept on asking for more, reveling in the faint hint of drunkenness that these stronger drinks offered.

The problem was that, while people couldn't feel the effect of the alcohol, the alcohol still had an effect on them: it was destroying their livers, their brains and bodies. At a much faster rate than before.

The hospitals were full of people with terminal liver disease. Too many for the nascent artificial organ industry to keep up.

It was a problem, but it was a quiet one: people died behind close doors.

It was an orderly problem.

That day Thuy started contributing to it.

***

Her first day of work. A full one. Thuy was tired. It was good tiredness though. A tiredness that invited sleep under warm covers.

But Thuy covers were miles away. When she accepted the job she didn't think that she would need to walk back at night. Not an unsafe walk, apart from the first bit through Chelsea, but a dreary one. She didn't feel like doing it again, but she knew she couldn't help it. Her wage wouldn't be paid until the end of the week, so she still didn't have enough credit for public transport. Her plan had failed.

Michael Brookes must have seen how tired she was.

- Do you live far?

- A bit, - Thuy said.

She wasn't willing talk about her personal life, but she was beginning to warm to this old man. After all, he had given her a job. The job that would allow getting her life back on track, at some point.

- I live in Peckham. It's a long walk, I did it this morning. At what time can I go? I wouldn't want to go when it's dark.

- Your shift doesn't end for another two hours, you know that, - Michael Brookes said, - but you don't have to walk home late. If you want you can stay here.

- Here?

- Yes, I have a couple of rooms upstairs, for staff. In fact, I haven't really used them in a while, as I haven't had any staff in quite some time. If you want, you can crash in one of them tonight. And, if you like it, you can make it yours and stay here. It's not in the best condition, but it would be rent-free. And the commute would be better, wouldn't it?

Thuy wasn't quite sure she should stay over. It was the first day. She still didn't know this guy well enough. After closing time, it would be just the two of them in the building.

Thuy told herself that the wise thing was not to accept. It would be a pain, but, after all, she would be safer.

Then she looked out of the window. It was already getting dark. Her legs were tired. She had been standing all day.

- Thanks, I accept, for tonight.

- Great, - Michael Brookes said. - It's nothing special, but it's got everything you'd need. Get back to work now, you still have two hours to do. I will show you the room later on.

***

Those last two hours lasted years. Thuy was getting tired. She used to work hard when she was back home. But then she didn't have to walk for hours through a huge city. Her legs were killing her, and she was struggling to keep her eyes open.

She was relieved when Michael Brookes called time. It was nine o'clock. The law didn't allow bars to stay open beyond that time. It was an attempt to keep drinking within standards of decency. Not that the local government cared that much. The most important thing was not to let the drunks disturb the tourists. So the police focused on containing the local drinkers within a cordon, tucked away from the most respectable areas.

Michael Brookes had to kick a couple of people outside the pub.

- Same story every night, - he said. - But they're not much trouble after all. It's a shame we have to close so early, really.

Thuy wasn't too sorry. She could finally rest. She finished drying the last few glasses that were left.

- Well, let's show you upstairs then. You must be tired, - Michael Brookes said.

Thuy nodded, too tired to speak. She made a ball of her apron and threw it behind the counter. It wasn't dry, and in this way it would never be. But she didn't care.

She followed Michael Brookes upstairs, thinking just about the bed that was waiting for her. She didn't have a clue about how the room would be. She didn't care, either. As long as it had a bed and a door she could close behind her and lock.

Michael Brookes open the door and switched on the light. The room smelled of damp, but it wasn't cold. Thuy looked at the bed. It wasn't big, but it looked clean. She couldn't wait to get on it.

- Here you should be fine. There's a small en-suite bathroom as well, - Michael Brookes said. - Have a good rest. Tomorrow is Saturday so it will be another full day.

- Thanks, and goodnight, - Thuy managed to say.

She looked at the door as Michael Brookes closed it.

She turned around to look at the bed, already half-asleep.

Then she heard the door being locked.

From the outside.

***

It just didn't sound right.

But Thuy was very tired, maybe she had just misheard. Or maybe Michael Brookes had made a mistake. This could wait until the following day.

Then it hit her.

Michael Brookes had locked her in.

She was trapped in a place she didn't know, locked in her room, by a stranger.

She couldn't leave if she wanted to.

She was a prisoner.

That had to be a mistake.

Thuy turned around and started calling Michael Brookes through the door. Without shouting. No shouting, at first. Then, as no one was coming back, louder.

And more so.

Thuy started banging the door with her open hands.

No result.

Thuy was exhausted. It was now clear that she wouldn't get her freedom back that night.

She made a few steps towards the bed, not knowing whether to sleep or cry.

***

The door opening woke her up.

Michael Brookes was carrying a tray. And smiling.

- Good morning! Slept well?

- What? You locked me in. Why?

- I wouldn't worry too much about that, if I were you, - Michael Brookes said. - In fact, you will soon get used to this.

- What do you mean?

- Later, later. Don't you want to eat something first? I've got some bacon and eggs here. I seem to remember that you didn't have any dinner yesterday night. Entirely my mistake, I'm afraid.

Thuy eyed the food. It looked delicious, and she was famished. She decided that she should eat something in any case, or she wouldn't have the strength to deal with this.

She went to the small desk that completed the room's furniture. Michael Brookes had put the tray there. The smell of food filled the room.

She sat down, grabbed the old fork and knife that Michael Brookes had brought with him and started attacking the food.

She wolfed down the first few bites.

She needed to drink something now. Coffee. A warm mug was waiting by the edge of the table.

She extended her arm.

As she did that, Michael Brookes placed a bracelet around her wrist. It locked with a neat click.

Thuy looked up at Michael Brookes.

- Just a little precaution, - Michael Brookes said. His voice was calm. It looked like he'd done this many times before. No big deal.

- What do you mean?

- Well, this is just in case you had the bad idea to leave us. I'm sure you're not thinking about that. Much better if you don't, let me tell you. But if you do, this will help us keep you here.

- I can't leave?

- Yes, but you do have a job, don't you? Mustn't grumble, really: you'll have a roof on your head, you'll be warm and there'll be food whenever you're hungry. You just have to work for us, without leaving the premises, for a little while.

- How long?

- Well, the last one lasted a couple of years, - Michael Brookes said.

- And then?

- Let's not dwell on that. I'm sure you don't want to spoil your first full day at work, - Michael Brookes said. - By the way, have you finished your breakfast?

Thuy was speechless.

As she wasn't speaking, Michael Brookes grabbed her from her shoulders and lifted her up.

- So you haven't forgotten how to stand up, have you? - Michael Brookes said. - Come on, let's go downstairs. You have lots to do.

Michael Brookes pushed Thuy. Gently, but enough to make her walk.

Thuy was numb, as if trapped in an absurd dream.

That morning, the pub didn't look any different. It was the same place that had given Thuy hope.

Now it had just taken it away.

Because Thuy knew that she would not be able to go to her room in Peckham now, even if she wanted to.

***

Three weeks, gone.

Thuy was beginning to get used to her daily routine.

She had food and she had shelter.

She didn't have to walk the dreary streets of London, hiking for miles just because she had run out of money. She didn't have to step out at all.

But she also didn't have any freedom.

She knew that she would never be allowed to return home. But she didn't want to think about that, or it would have broken her.

Sometimes she felt that this had always been her life.

Every day was the same. She would wake up and, a few minutes later, Michael Brookes would come to unlock the door and bring her breakfast. She would eat quickly, while Michael watched her. The door was open and he clearly didn't like the idea that she could go around. She would then wash quickly, dress and go downstairs, ready to start her twelve hour-long shift.

At the beginning, Michael Brookes had watched her closely. Thuy knew that she couldn't go anywhere. Thanks to the bracelet, she couldn't escape. Michael Brookes had told her that he didn't want to make a scene in front of his customers.

- You'll have to accept this, - he had told her. - Don't worry, I'm sure you'll get used to this soon. Like the people before you.

As was behaving, Michael Brookes had stopped paying such a close attention to her. Especially in the evenings, he preferred talking to some of the old regulars for a while.

With that bracelet around her left wrist, Thuy couldn't leave. She had tried stepping out the pub's front door once, but as soon as she had got close to the door, an electric jolt had sent her shaking on the floor.

Same story with the back door.

No way out.

Thuy tried to focus on her task. She found that living in the present helped. Something she had learnt to do back home, but that she too often forgot.

She finished pulling the pint the client had asked for. It was someone different, not a regular. Much younger.

She went to fetch the additive, which they illegally added to all drinks to make them slightly stronger. A consolidated practice in all good London pubs and bars, it seemed.

- No need for that, - the Customer said.

- As you wish, sir, - Thuy said, just like Michael Brookes had taught her to say. - But I'm afraid your drink is going to be a little light this way.

- It's ok with me. Most of the times I just drink to while the time away. I should really drink to forget, given the situation we're in. But this has never really worked that well for me.

Thuy wanted to ask him some questions, but she wasn't allowed to. She just had to do her job.

- Hey, where are you from? - the Customer asked her.

- Vietnam, sir. I don't think I can talk to you, I'm sorry, sir.

- Oh, come on. A little chat won't harm anyone, right? And the customer is always right, I believe.

Thuy cast a glance over to Michael Brookes. He was deep in conversation with some of his favourite patrons. He wasn't paying attention to her.

- Ok, that is fine.

- Good. I could tell you were not from here. From your accent. And from the bracelet you're wearing around your wrist.

Without noticing, Thuy brought her right hand to cover the bracelet on her left wrist.

The Customer noticed it.

- Oh, don't you worry about that, I'm used to slave labour, by now.

- What? - Thuy said.

- You know you are a slave, right? Do you think you're just employed under particularly strict conditions?

Even though she had never admitted that to herself, Thuy knew that she was a slave. But she didn't understand why the Customer found it so obvious.

- Ok, let me tell you, just in case you haven't realised it yet: you're a slave. Congratulations and welcome to Britain, - the Customer continued. - That's how we keep the country going these days.

The Customer took a sip. He grimaced.

- You know, we had run out of people that wanted to do jobs like yours. Or cleaners. Or porters. Or picking vegetables. When Britain shut its borders to anybody that wanted to come here to work, the country found itself without a workforce. Oh, don't get me wrong. People here aren't lazy. There are people ready to do the jobs that pay well. But not everybody can get those. So, over time, some people got richer and richer. And the unemployed got poorer and poorer. And, the longer they stayed unemployed, they lost all her skills and became useless.

- So we ended up returning to slavery, like in the good old days. Poor homegrown people and unlucky tourists or students, just like you, I presume. Some people were pretty uncomfortable about this, you know. Especially at the beginning. After all, Britain was meant to be a beacon of civilisation, and all that. But then even the strongest opponents started getting a bit more relaxed about that. Things started to work again. The slaves were not generally mistreated. They were given food and shelter. They just weren't free to go wherever they wanted, which most people actually didn't mind.

- There is more like me? - Thuy asked.

- Plenty more! That's how this country works. If you ask me, it's an utter and complete disgrace. But who am I to change things? Anyway, coming to your case, you should really try to escape. You want to go back home don't you?

- I do. And I tried, - Thuy said, lifting her left arm, to show the black bracelet around her wrist.

- I know, I know, - the Customer said. - Those things. Best invention ever, aren't they? You're stuck here, my friend.

The Customer grinned. Then took a sip.

Thuy didn't know what to say.

Her right hand went once again over to the bracelet.

It was feeling tighter now.

***

He was back. Of course. He came back almost every day.

Just a couple of drinks, really. And a quick chat with her. Thuy didn't mind. She was improving her English in that way, after all.

Apart from that, nothing had changed: she was still a slave.

Every day was the same. Today wasn't an exception. Only a little warmer.

Spring, always a welcome guest in London, was making a timid appearance.

It was enough to make Thuy sweat a little when she was pulling pints. And enough for the Customer to shed his heavy coat, which he had kept on, even when sitting at the bar, throughout the winter.

- So, Thuy, how are things today? - He asked, after taking his first sip. - Enjoying the spring?

- It's warm, - Thuy replied. After all these months, she still didn't have much to say to the Customer.

- Indeed it is. Spring, finally. But don't get your hopes up. If we're lucky it will last a week. But you do seem to like it here, after all. Already three months, and you haven't left yet.

- But what am I supposed to do? - Thuy asked, pointing at the bracelet.

- I'm surprised you still haven't figured it out, - the Customer said, lifting his left arm.

Until that moment, Thuy had never seen the Customer's left arm. He had always kept it hidden under his coat. He always used his right hand to lift the glass. Thuy had also noticed that his payment chip was on his right forearm instead of the left one, as it was customary.

The stump was in front of her. Cut above the wrist.

- Are you surprised? - The Customer asked her.

Thuy had seen people without limbs before, but never so up close. She didn't want to stare, but she couldn't help it.

- A bit surprised. What happened? An accident, or where you in the war?

- The Scottish war? I was about to, but that didn't last long enough for me to be involved in the fighting. But they still managed to catch me and to bring me down here. The labour shortages, then like now, did the rest.

- You, a slave too?

- Yes, I was a slave too. Not in a pub though. That would have been too much fun for us PoWs. We were sent to a chemical facility. Just a lot of scrubbing floors and inhaling toxic fumes. Does wonders for your lungs!

- I'm sorry. Did the accident happen while you were working there? Did it hurt?

- Oh, yes, it did hurt. But it wasn't an accident. You see, I didn't get injured working there. I did get injured to stop working there. To get out.

The Customer paused for a while. He took another sip of beer. Then, while staring at his stump, he started talking again.

- I did have a bracelet of course. Not as nice as yours. An earlier model, but as effective, I'd say. There was no way to get it off, as I had the opportunity to find out as soon as I tried. The electric shock was slightly less calibrated than the one you'd get nowadays. And, just to be on the safe side, there was an extra kick that would leave you writhing in pain on the floor for a while. It's not an experience you'd want to do twice.

Another sip of beer. Just a brief pause. Then, the Customer looked at Thuy, and smiled.

- So, I cut my hand off. The bracelet slid off pretty well after that. Oh, don't look at me that way, there really wasn't anything else I could have done. Trust me, I thought about it for quite some time. I wasn't that keen on cutting my hand off, believe you me. But, eventually, I valued my freedom more than anything else. So I did it.

- But it must have hurt, - Thuy said.

- It did hurt. Especially because I had to use a piece of glass to do it. We slaves didn't really have access to any advanced surgical tools there. And I did pass out a couple of times. I can assure it's not the most pleasant feeling. But it had to be done.

- And how did you escape? - Thuy asked.

- Oh, that was the easy part. As soon as I felt my legs were steady, I started making my way down the dorm aisle. Then through the courtyard. And then through the gate. You see, people trust these bracelets so much, that they don't think anybody could leave. So there were no further security arrangements in place. After all, I think I was the first one to do something like that. And the last one.

- You mean no one else tried after you?

- Not that I know of. But you might be the next one.

- What do you mean? No way I could do something like this.

- You don't value your freedom?

- Of course I do. But cutting my own hand?

- Yes, I know it sounds slightly preposterous. But think about it: you'll be free after that. You will be able to walk through that door. No one will stop you. You're young. You can live a free life without a hand. But you can't live your entire life here, as a slave. It would be a long one, and not a pleasant one, I promise you. People get used to everything, but I was thinking that perhaps you'd like to do something else with your life. Perhaps come back to where you're from.

Thinking of home made Thuy sad. She hadn't spoken with her parents in months. The last time they had heard something from her was when she was going to get the job in the pub. Thuy wondered what her parents must think. Maybe they were worried. Maybe, they thought she was having the time of her life and that she had forgotten home and that she would never want to come back.

How wrong they were.

- Think about it, - the Customer said, bringing her back to reality.

He finished his drink in one long sip. He put the glass down on the bar and smiled up at Thuy. - Yes, by all means, do think about it.

He started walking out of the pub.

He was free, he could walk through those doors.

- I won't do it, - Thuy said as he was leaving. Loud enough for him to hear.

- Think about it, - he shouted, as he was already outside the pub.

He was breathing fresh air. Walking down the street, in any direction he wanted. Without a hand, but with his freedom.

***

He was back. Of course. He came back almost every day.

Just a couple of drinks, really. And a quick chat with her. Thuy didn't mind. She was improving her English in that way, after all.

Apart from that, nothing had changed: she was still a slave.

Every day was the same. Today wasn't an exception. Only a little warmer.

Spring, always a welcome guest in London, was making a timid appearance.

It was enough to make Thuy sweat a little when she was pulling pints. And enough for the Customer to shed his heavy coat, which he had kept on, even when sitting at the bar, throughout the winter.

- So, Thuy, how are things today? - He asked, after taking his first sip. - Enjoying the spring?

- It's warm, - Thuy replied. After all these months, she still didn't have much to say to the Customer.

- Indeed it is. Spring, finally. But don't get your hopes up. If we're lucky it will last a week. But you do seem to like it here, after all. Already three months, and you haven't left yet.

- But what am I supposed to do? - Thuy asked, pointing at the bracelet.

- I'm surprised you still haven't figured it out, - the Customer said, lifting his left arm.

Until that moment, Thuy had never seen the Customer's left arm. He had always kept it hidden under his coat. He always used his right hand to lift the glass. Thuy had also noticed that his payment chip was on his right forearm instead of the left one, as it was customary.

The stump was in front of her. Cut above the wrist.

- Are you surprised? - The Customer asked her.

Thuy had seen people without limbs before, but never so up close. She didn't want to stare, but she couldn't help it.

- A bit surprised. What happened? An accident, or where you in the war?

- The Scottish war? I was about to, but that didn't last long enough for me to be involved in the fighting. But they still managed to catch me and to bring me down here. The labour shortages, then like now, did the rest.

- You, a slave too?

- Yes, I was a slave too. Not in a pub though. That would have been too much fun for us PoWs. We were sent to a chemical facility. Just a lot of scrubbing floors and inhaling toxic fumes. Does wonders for your lungs!

- I'm sorry. Did the accident happen while you were working there? Did it hurt?

- Oh, yes, it did hurt. But it wasn't an accident. You see, I didn't get injured working there. I did get injured to stop working there. To get out.

The Customer paused for a while. He took another sip of beer. Then, while staring at his stump, he started talking again.

- I did have a bracelet of course. Not as nice as yours. An earlier model, but as effective, I'd say. There was no way to get it off, as I had the opportunity to find out as soon as I tried. The electric shock was slightly less calibrated than the one you'd get nowadays. And, just to be on the safe side, there was an extra kick that would leave you writhing in pain on the floor for a while. It's not an experience you'd want to do twice.

Another sip of beer. Just a brief pause. Then, the Customer looked at Thuy, and smiled.

- So, I cut my hand off. The bracelet slid off pretty well after that. Oh, don't look at me that way, there really wasn't anything else I could have done. Trust me, I thought about it for quite some time. I wasn't that keen on cutting my hand off, believe you me. But, eventually, I valued my freedom more than anything else. So I did it.

- But it must have hurt, - Thuy said.

- It did hurt. Especially because I had to use a piece of glass to do it. We slaves didn't really have access to any advanced surgical tools there. And I did pass out a couple of times. I can assure it's not the most pleasant feeling. But it had to be done.

- And how did you escape? - Thuy asked.

- Oh, that was the easy part. As soon as I felt my legs were steady, I started making my way down the dorm aisle. Then through the courtyard. And then through the gate. You see, people trust these bracelets so much, that they don't think anybody could leave. So there were no further security arrangements in place. After all, I think I was the first one to do something like that. And the last one.

- You mean no one else tried after you?

- Not that I know of. But you might be the next one.

- What do you mean? No way I could do something like this.

- You don't value your freedom?

- Of course I do. But cutting my own hand?

- Yes, I know it sounds slightly preposterous. But think about it: you'll be free after that. You will be able to walk through that door. No one will stop you. You're young. You can live a free life without a hand. But you can't live your entire life here, as a slave. It would be a long one, and not a pleasant one, I promise you. People get used to everything, but I was thinking that perhaps you'd like to do something else with your life. Perhaps come back to where you're from.

Thinking of home made Thuy sad. She hadn't spoken with her parents in months. The last time they had heard something from her was when she was going to get the job in the pub. Thuy wondered what her parents must think. Maybe they were worried. Maybe, they thought she was having the time of her life and that she had forgotten home and that she would never want to come back.

How wrong they were.

- Think about it, - the Customer said, bringing her back to reality.

He finished his drink in one long sip. He put the glass down on the bar and smiled up at Thuy. - Yes, by all means, do think about it.

He started walking out of the pub.

He was free, he could walk through those doors.

- I won't do it, - Thuy said as he was leaving. Loud enough for him to hear.

- Think about it, - he shouted, as he was already outside the pub.

He was breathing fresh air. Walking down the street, in any direction he wanted. Without a hand, but with his freedom.

***

The thought kept on coming back, despite her efforts.

Each time, more vivid. Each time, she surprised herself going through the actual steps in her mind. The blood. The pain, which she could only imagine. Cutting through her arm. Passing out. All things that helped her keep this thought at bay. But then she thought about being able to walk through those doors. To feel fresh air on her face. And the sun, even though it didn't come out very often.

The freedom to take any road she wished.

The freedom to go home.

She had decided to do it. If fact, she had decided to do it the moment the Customer had walked out of the pub. He hadn't come back since then. Perhaps he knew he had already managed to convince her. She just had to turn the idea over in her head for a while.

She was going to do it.

And she needed a tool for that.

As every single day, she was behind the bar. Pulling pints. There were lots of glasses around her. She pushed one on the floor.

Michael Brookes stopped the conversation he was having with one of the regulars on the other side of the bar to shout at her.

- What are you doing, you idiot?

- Sorry, Mr. Brookes. I just hit the glass with my elbow, and...

- And what? Do you think I get these glasses for free? It's not the first time this happens, you know that, don't you?

- No, I know, but...

- I don't care about excuses. Make sure this doesn't happen again or there will be consequences.

- Yes, Mr. Brookes.

- Now, pick up all that glass from the floor and get ready for the customers. It's already midday and they should be coming in soon.

- Yes, Mr. Brookes.

That's what Thuy wanted. She could pick up the glass. It hadn't shattered in many pieces, just a few thick ones. With sharp edges.

Thuy put a couple of them in her apron's front pocket. She would have to keep them there for the whole day.

But Thuy had waited a long time.

A few more hours wouldn't make a difference.

***

She was ready.

She had spent the day touching those pieces of glass in her apron's pocket. They were her keys to freedom. They felt sharp. Thuy hoped that they would do the job.

She was ready to find out.

She was scared, of course, but determined to walk out of that wretched pub. Ready to leave her left hand behind, as a parting present to Michael Brookes.

Thuy had never even taken any first aid course. But she knew she would have to wrap something around her upper arm, to reduce the blood flow. She only had a towel, but she would use that to compress the wound. So she had torn some of her bedsheets and made a tourniquet out of that. She tied it tightly around her upper left arm.

Good thing she was right-handed.

She put the towel in her mouth, to have something to bite once the pain got sharp, not to scream.

Then, she disinfected he glass. Easy to do, with the alcohol additive she had brought up from the bar.

Everything was ready.

Her wrist, on the white towel, facing up. Ready to be cut.

A sharp piece of glass in her right hand.

Ready.

She was about to cut her hand off.

Ready.

The edge of the glass was sharp. She could see the surface veins on her wrist, almost pulsating. Soon they would be useless stems crying their last red tears.

The glass touched her skin. Cutting it as Thuy applied the slightest pressure.

A the beginning the cut was clean, white. But soon the blood started surfacing. A drop accumulated at the wound and, when its weight demanded it, rolled down her wrist, to leave a red blotch on the towel.

She knew she would see much more blood than this.

Thuy felt her heart pumping hard. She felt it in her throat.

She had to stay calm, though.

It was time to go for it.

It was time to push.

***

Then everything went dark.

A black-out.

Thuy had never seen one since she had got locked up in that pub.

It didn't seem it was just the pub. Thuy looked out of her window. She saw that all buildings around the pub were dark too. So were the streets.

It was late. Michael Brookes was probably already asleep. He wouldn't notice that the lights had gone off everywhere.

Thuy wondered whether the alarm system would be off too. Unlikely, as it would probably have some sort of back-up system. But then she remembered what the Customer had told her: people trusted the bracelets too much.

She decided that it was worth a try. After all, she would prefer a jolt of electricity to losing her hand.

Thuy dropped the piece of glass she was still holding on the carpeted floor. It made no noise.

She cleaned her wrist with the towel. She felt she left a smudge of blood. But she couldn't see it, even though her eyes were beginning to get used to the darkness.

Thuy knew that she couldn't remove the bracelet, as it had its own battery.

But perhaps she could just walk out of the place. Like the Customer had done.

Perhaps.

There was only a way to find out.

After a few minutes in complete darkness, Thuy's eyes could guide around. She started making her way, trying not to make the floorboards squeak too much.

She reached the top of the stairs. They were steep, but familiar. She started walking down, grabbing the handrail.

Everything was quiet, as expected.

Michael Brookes used to leave a light on all night, to keep the burglars away. But tonight, everything was dark, inside and outside.

The pub door looked the same, but, this time, Thuy couldn't see any of the lights that usually blinked above it: the alarm lights. The lights that, up to that moment, had kept Thuy well away from the door. And from freedom.

Now the door was dark. Just a normal wooden door. Locked from the inside, with a primitive lock.

Thuy hesitated a little, her hands slowly moving towards the door.

No reaction.

She could hear a dog barking in the distance.

She touched the metal lock. No alarm. It would have activated by now. Or maybe it engaged only when someone walked through the door. She had to try to find out.

She slid the lock to the right.

All Thuy had to do now was pull the door open.

She looked at it. Dark wood, looking even darker now. On either side of the door there was a pane of stained glass, carrying the name of the pub, in ornate characters.

The Phoenix.

Her prison.

She remembered when she had walked through the door. Casually. Showing up for her first day at work.

She had not been able to leave ever since.

Now all she had to do was open the door, and walk outside.

The dark streets scared her. So did the idea that she might get electrocuted. Perhaps the alarm had some sort of back-up system. Perhaps it hadn't kicked in yet.

But not having her freedom scared Thuy more. One small step and she would be free. She would have worked out later how to get rid of her bracelet.

Without waiting any longer, she pulled the two sides of the door, which opened towards her. She could finally see the outside world. Not just a glimpse, like the one she always took when a customer came in or went out. Now she could look at the outside world for as long as she wanted.

It was time to go. The power could come back at any time.

Thuy stepped outside.

The alarm remained silent.

She was free.

She started running down the street, trying to find her bearings. She hadn't been outside in a while, and she felt slightly dizzy, at first. But the fresh air on her face made her feel better straight away. She turned a corner, wondering which way she should go.

She knew she had to go back to Peckham to her room. She didn't know if she would still find her stuff, but that was the only place she knew in London that she could call home.

She had managed to walk away, finally.

No more drinks to serve. No more work, in that old and smelly pub.

No more Michael Brookes.

As she started walking down the street, the lights came back on.

Thuy felt safer now.

It was over.

***

It had been a week. A week of walking around, trying to find a job.

When she had got back to her place in Peckham, after a long walk through the night, Thuy had not been able to get in. Her chip would not grant her access anymore. Her credential had been removed.

Thuy had very little money and no access to her stuff. She had found a cheap hotel, on the other side of town. The landlady, an old Vietnamese immigrant had allowed to make pay in instalments. Thuy hoped she could earn some money before being kicked out. It was hard, but she didn't want to call home. Even after all that had happened, she didn't want her parents to think that she couldn't make it on her own.

She was desperate for a job. In a shop. Or a cleaning job. Whatever. She would have worked in a pub again, had she had to. She just had to avoid becoming a slave again.

Not easy, in London.

That afternoon, Thuy found herself in Piccadilly Circus. Surrounded by thousands of people, she felt alone. Thousands of faces around her, none of which meant anything to her. She was indifferent to all of them.

Apart from Michael Brookes's.

Who was coming towards her.

At first, Thuy didn't realise that the guy who had kept her locked as a slave for three months was walking towards her. Walking fast. Running.

When it hit her, she started running away, but she was tired. She hadn't eaten for the whole day.

Not knowing what to do, Thuy went into one of the many souvenir shops that lined the streets. Shops selling the same stuff that had always been on sale: jumpers, fleeces, postcards and small models of London's monuments: Westminster Abbey, St. Paul's, and the Big Ben. Lots of them. Some made out of plastic. Some metal ones.

Thuy hid in an aisle, behind the shelves. Looking through some model Big Bens, to see if Michael Brookes was coming in. She hoped that, with some many tourists in the area, she had managed to lose him.

She was wrong. After a few seconds she saw Michael Brookes coming into the shop. He was determined to find her. Now Thuy didn't have anywhere to go. If she had tried to make her way out, Michael Brookes would have seen her.

She kept hiding, but she knew that Michael Brookes would find her at some point. He could feel he was coming closer.

Thuy didn't quite know what to do. She couldn't believe that, after regaining her freedom, she was about to lose it again. No one around her would help. If she had complained and attracted the staff's attention, Michael Brookes would have just shown them her bracelet. She still hadn't found a way to take it off.

After all, slavery was legal in Britain. Most of the store's staff was probably slaves too.

Michael Brookes appeared at the entrance of the aisle. It was a dead end, closed on the other side. Thuy had not realised that: now she couldn't escape. Her short freedom holiday was about to end.

Michael Brookes was on her in a few steps. He put his hands on her shoulder.

- Now you're coming with me, - he said. - You were lucky, but this is not going to happen again. Remember you're my property now.

- I'm not going anywhere, - Thuy screamed.

- You can spare your voice, - Michael Brookes said. - No one is going to do anything about that. Do you think you're the first slave that escapes? It happens all the time. People lose things. And some time they get them back. This is one of those times.

- Leave me alone, - Thuy screamed again. She didn't know what to do. She was screaming at the top of her voice, but the people around her didn't seem to notice.

In London, no one cares.

- Enough of this now, come with me!

- No!

Thuy looked around. Lots of souvenirs.

Big Bens. The metal ones.

She grabbed one.

It was heavy.

And it was sharp.

Without thinking about it, she pushed it through Michael Brookes's stomach, with all her strength.

The metal souvenir went in smoothly. Michael Brookes's face changed into an expression of surprise. He looked down at his stomach. Thuy was still holding the souvenir. Michael Brookes grabbed it with both hands.

Thuy left it, and took a few steps backwards. Michael Brookes kept on holding the souvenir. He looked up at Thuy, as if he didn't know what to do.

He pulled it out of his stomach. As soon as he did that, warm blood squirted out of Michael Brookes's stomach onto Thuy's clothes.

Michael Brookes knelt down, still looking surprised.

After a few second, he fell face forward on the floor, a few inches from Thuy's feet.

He was dead.

Thuy didn't care.

She was free. For real now.

She started walking out of the shop.

Her clothes were stained with Michael Brookes's blood.

She walked out through the crowd of customers. Into the crowd of tourists.

No one stopped her.

In London, no one cares.

London, 11th May 2014

Table of Contents

A London Holiday