Jack watched as Martha worked quietly, loading the wheelbarrow with bricks,
and pushing the load across the planks towards the workers building the wall.
Her small build was a concern to the site supervisor, because she looked like a
13 year old. Only after checking her ID, and getting her to prove that she could
indeed carry a 10kg bag of cement, did he give her the job. She couldn’t read,
or write. Her employment documents were stamped with her thumb print
instead of a signature. Jack was convinced she was homeless. As long as she
worked well, and didn’t cause trouble, Jack wasn’t about to question why she
had provided a fake home address.
Martha’s only regret was that she had refused to go to school - and that her
parents had let her get away with it. She had squandered her youth by
travelling the world with her mother - perpetually on holiday; shopping,
dining in exquisite places, visiting museums and art galleries. Sometimes her
father would join them in Rome, or London or New York. They always had the
most wonderful time together. She had taken it for granted that her family
would provide for her. To be fair, they would happily give her money right now
if she asked. It was she who didn’t want their money. She didn’t want to have
anything to do with any of them. How could she, now that she knew what they
were doing? How could her father be involved in such activity? How could her
gentle, loving mother tolerate it? How could she live off that money?
‘Dirty money’ she called it. Money earned from human trafficking.
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