I will try to write my story. As I see it, first came the enchantment of words.
Barbican, Marylebone, Canary Wharf. When I heard them I imagined the places they represented. I lived with my grandma in Ljubljana but my heart was in London England and I learned the names of districts there.
Grandma told me she’d met this man who would train me to be a dancer. His name was Bogdan and he would take me where I longed to be. He said I would be queen of the tv shows. He had a sharp-eyed glint and a rough hairy chin, which I found unpleasant. But these things were little compared with London, which was large.
Bogdan I guessed was a wealthy man as he was paying the plane-fares. He gave Grandma a wad of cash which pleased me because she was poor, so I tried to like him better. I said the word ‘London’ over and over as the plane landed; couldn’t believe I’d really arrived. I was so happy picturing the gold-paved streets I was soon to see.
I have read many English novels and think this will help me to organise my facts. All prior to the arrival I’d describe as the prologue. I was still a child at heart. My feet touched English soil. I grew up very quickly then.
That was one year and a half ago. In that short time I’ve lived a life of torment worse than any you could dream. The streets are tarnished for me. One in particular has the smell of dread. There are parts to any narrative and mine starts off right here. I’ll try and capture everything in detail. It is the true beginning. I walked along a long thin road with Bogdan. Next to a rail track, just this little strip of garden in between. A stench of earth, of rotting vegetation, wafted. We came to a railway bridge, then a sharp corner. The road dipped down. This is the place where my old world ended. And another one began.
Under the bridge a man was waiting. It was dusk. I asked whether this was the way to the dance
school. Bogdan said to keep my mouth shut. He punched me in the face. One of my teeth came loose. We entered a dark building. Both men raped me in a room there. I was in pain; I was bleeding. After the sex the men went away. I lay on the bed and cried to myself. Not loud, in case they were listening behind the door and came back in. Outside all was dark. The windows were broken; there were no curtains. This is the way I got pulled into prostitution.
The first part of my story came to an abrupt end. I was walking with Bogdan in London – Camden Town. Suddenly blue lights were flashing, yellow cars were pulling over, police were jumping out. Bogdan was taken in for questioning.
Beginning of the second part: I left the scene fast, walked many miles. Only a tiny bit of money; no papers. Cold evening, much wind. I trudged past a lonely park with swaying trees. This car stopped. A lady spoke in a kind sounding voice. I took a ride with her as she said she could help. A friend of hers would have a job for me.
I worked as a servant; very little pay. Up all hours, kids screaming, and the friend-of beat me sometimes because her husband had an eye for me. When she fell pregnant I knew I’d be in for trouble. So I upped and ran away.
This is the final part of the story, which some call the denouement. I’m homeless. Sometimes I do sex for men I meet in a café, get money to pay for food, a few nice clothes. You can easily get robbed though so I live in fear. Some nights I stay in a shelter. I dream of leaving the city for a smaller town. I walk on the concourse of Waterloo Station. The place names on the Departures Board allure me. Bournemouth, Salisbury, Strawberry Hill.
I understand this won’t be the only story I will write.
Jay’s story ‘As Birds Fly’ won the Salt Short Story Prize and is included in the ‘Salt Anthology of New Writing, 2013’. She is the author of two short story collections – God of the Pigeons (Salt, 2010) and Astral Bodies (Salt, 2007) and has been nominated for the Frank O’Connor Award and Edge Hill Prize. Her mini series of flash monologues of rough sleepers in London UK was published in the Big Issue in 2013. More fiction by Jay is forthcoming or has appeared very recently in 3 AM, Citron Review, Corium, Night Train, SmokeLong Quarterly, Spork, Anomalous Press, Apeiron Review, Crack the Spine, Eunoia Review, The Legendary, Blue Lake Review, the Newer York and Vine Leaves Press. Jay has an Award from Arts Council England and is Writer in Residence at Women in Publishing.
–Art by Rona Keller
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