Chapter 1
The rising steam engulfed Amporn’s face as she lifted the jet-black cooking pot off the stove and placed it next to the stack of plain white plates on the counter beside her. She picked up a wooden ladle and spooned a large helping of phad see-u gai, fried chicken noodles, onto the top plate. She moved the plate from the top of the stack to the counter and continued to dish out a second helping onto the plate beneath it and then, a third, smaller, helping onto the plate underneath that. She closed her eyes and smiled, inhaling the rich aroma of good home-cooked food as it swirled around her head. The headmistress had roped her into covering a lunchtime detention session for two fourteen-year-old boys who had decided that homeroom was the ideal venue to practice their kickboxing skills that morning and she had been forced to skip lunch. She had managed to wolf down a few slices of dried mango between classes, but that was no substitute for proper food, especially not for a Thai; food being almost a national obsession for Thais.
“Dinner’s ready!” She called out.
She picked up two of the plates and turned to place them on the blue-and-white checked tablecloth that was stretched out on the rickety wooden table behind her. Footsteps thudded on the floor as Rak, her six-year-old son, scampered into the kitchen, banging into her legs as she retrieved the third plate almost causing her to spill the steaming hot noodles onto the floor.
“Watch out where you are running,” she said, turning around. “And give me that game. The last thing we need is beeping and buzzing while we eat.” She grabbed the small electronic toy from his hands and placed it on a shelf out of his reach.
“Aww, Ma. That’s not fair.”
“Sit down and stop your whining,” her husband, Samyan, said as he entered the room. He ruffled the boy’s hair as he reached over to kiss Amporn on the cheek before sitting down himself.
“Dinner smells amazing, as always, Tilak,” he said, using the Thai word for darling.
Amporn placed her plate on the table and joined them. She smiled at her husband. He always complimented her on her cooking no matter what she cooked. The days when she wished they could afford to eat out, or even just buy better quality ingredients to cook with, had long ago passed into memory as a sacrifice she just accepted. Her salary as a high school teacher and his as a junior manager at a local bank branch placed them firmly into the Thai middle class, but with dreams of one day owning their own apartment they lived as frugally as they could, saving every spare penny. It was not the life she had dreamed of as a girl, but then falling pregnant straight after graduating from university wasn’t exactly part of her plans either. She looked across at her son, despite the struggle life had become, she wouldn’t swap him for the world.
“How was the bank today? Did you speak to your boss about the promotion?”
“Not yet, he was busy. I don’t want to push too hard. You know how things work.”
“But you work twice as hard as Goong, and he was promoted to a higher pay grade last year! You need to stand up for yourself more.”
“Goong is five years older than me. You remember I work for a Thai bank, right? It’s not how hard I work, it’s how much seniority I have, or what family connections I can bring.”
“Well, then why are you always working so hard? The rate we are going, it will take forever to be out of here. Property prices are going up at record speed. I thought bankers paid attention to these sorts of things.”
“Tilak, don’t give me a hard time again, please. I cannot change the culture of Thai banks. Please, be patient. The promotion will come soon, I promise.”
“Soon, huh? Why is it always soon, but somehow soon never arrives? OK, so how about you try to move to a foreign bank then? I can ask my cousin. She can introduce you to her brother-in-law. He works at Citibank. Then it would make sense to work so hard.”
“This again? Tilak, can we just have one dinner in peace?”
“If we cannot talk over dinner when do you want to talk? Look, I can message her right now. It’s not a problem,” Amporn said.
“We have been through this before. The reason I don’t move to a foreign bank is the same reason you don’t work for an international school. My English is not good enough, OK? There, I admit it, your husband cannot speak English. Are you happy now?” Samyan leaned his head to one side and smiled sarcastically as he spoke. He reached across, picked up the remote control, turned the TV on, and started to flick through the channels.
“Hey! How can you have TV on but I cannot play my game! That’s not right!” Rak complained.
“Shh, and eat your dinner,” Amporn snapped. “Hey, go back a channel,” she said to Samyan. “There, that’s him. That’s the advert I was telling you about. Turn it up.”
On the screen, a large white man with wavy blonde hair and wearing a smart blue suit was talking straight to the camera.
“Hi, I’m Trump Johnson, founder, and CEO of Johnson Enterprises. Having built businesses from New York to Bangkok, I know about success. I live it. I epitomize it. And now I am ready to help you achieve it too. Tired of working in a dead end job with no prospects? Looking to find success working for a world-class foreign company? We can help you get there. With world-class instructors, convenient online learning programs, and a wealth of streetwise wisdom that can give you a lifelong professional and personal advantage.”
“What’s with that tie? It must be three feet long. Who wears something like that?” Samyan said.
“Shut up and listen, will you,” Amporn cut him off.
“Listen to what? It’s the subtitles you need to pay attention to. Unless you are telling me you understand what he is saying.”
Amporn gave Samyan a withering gaze before turning back to the TV.
“Join the thousands of other success stories earning millions a year in their new careers by enrolling at Johnson English Language University. To learn more, do more, and BE more. The information is absolutely free—but the opportunity could be priceless.”
Amporn, eyes fixed on the TV, rummaged blindly in her bag searching for a pen. Once she’d found one, she hastily scribbled down the number flashing on the screen.
“What are you doing?” Samyan asked. “You cannot be serious. There is no way you can trust a man with a tie that long and a bird’s nest for hair.”
“Look, I am tired of you using English as an excuse. As he says, it doesn’t cost anything to ask. Call them tomorrow, find out where they are, and make an appointment to go there on Saturday.”
Samyan looked at her open mouthed but he knew once she had got up a head of steam there was nothing to do but agree.
“Fine, but you are coming too! Have you seen the salaries international schools pay these days? If I have to do it, you do too,” he said.
“Fine by me. That way I can make sure you actually go. I don’t want you using it as cover to play pool with your friends and leaving me with babysitting duties,” she said, sticking her tongue out at him playfully.
