Mum steps in (part 2, final)

Ekk works in the large front yard of a two-storeyed house. A tuk tuk sat in the front yard. Its owner was doing something to the wheels. Tuk tuks and taxis come here to be repaired.

Ekk normally works on them during the day, and then takes a taxi out at night to supplement his income. Upstairs, he sleeps with two other young men, who also work on vehicles in the front yard.

The owner of the house sleeps in another room. He knew Ekk from Roi Et, his hometown in Esan, and asked Ekk to come to Bangkok to help him fix cars.

Ekk does not have formal qualifications to fix cars; he is just naturally good at it. He has tinkered with engines since he was 15. After leaving school, he worked for three years on a Thai fishing boat in Burma, where he looked after its engine, too.

'You have to look at what caused the problem,' Ekk told me one night, explaining how he fixes problem cars. 'Some of the guys in the yard have formal qualifications, but can apply only temporary fixes. If a car comes in with a problem, they have to wait for me to get back so I can fix it.'

Ekk, then, is demand. However, sometimes his friends in the yard have to wait hours for Ekk to return from his taxi-driving shift. Ekk needs to find the cost of renting the taxi, B300, every time he takes the taxi out.

Last night, he dropped me off at Mum's place at 10.30pm. When he picked me up again at 12.30am, he had not found a single extra passenger to help him get to his B300 target. He had spent two hours driving around, looking for people in vain.

'No one is going out tonight,' he said. To add to his misery, police had stopped him and fined him for B100 for being in the wrong lane.

'I wasn't in the wrong lane. They just wanted my money,' he said sadly.

If it wasn't for that fine, he would have made his B300 by now, he told me as we headed down the final stretch to my place.

'I am still B100 short,' he said.

Was that a hint? I didn't care. I was not going to give it to him. Mum is right. I am not in the taxi hire business. These boys have to learn to look after themselves.

Earlier last night, before Ekk arrived, Top the chef turned up at the bar with his nephew, Pao, to watch television.

They work at the shop next door, and were waiting for the last customers to leave so they could clean up and go home.

Pao is the teenage boy who might be gay, and who, like almost everyone else there, comes from Esan. He quit school to come to Bangkok to work in the eatery next to Mum's shop. His mother, who works at another shop a short distance away, is happy to have her son in Bangkok, because she is worried he will just get into trouble in Esan.

A week ago, I told Mum I was no longer prepared to buy the pair drinks, as they were starting to expect it.

Mum suspected my nose was out of joint because handsome Pao, who is 16, was not interested in me.

'Are you feeling put out?' she asked.

Last night, there were not enough seats on their side of the bar, so Pao sat on his uncle's lap. He does this often, and neither feels self-conscious. They are family, after all.

'Have you been unfaithful to the farang?' Mum asked Pao. She was joking, of course. She has noticed that I am not showing my customary friendliness towards Pao, but how can I? He is just 16.

Mum sees it differently. 'You do not see him away from this place, so you can enjoy his company while you are here.'

Pao, who is shy, giggled and cuddled in to his uncle. Pao is a growing lad, and probably heavy. Top, who has a slight build and looked uncomfortable with Pao squirming on his lap, told Pao to sit on my side of the bar.

Of course he won't do that. He giggled again, then ran away.

Ten minutes later, Ekk arrived.

Top, the uncle, was sweeping the sidewalk as I left.

'See-you-tomorrow,' he called out in English.

I felt sad as I hopped in Ekk's taxi. Top wants his beers, Ekk wants his fare.

I am sick of subsidising Ekk's taxi fares. 'My phone has been playing up,' I told him last night.

Not true, but I am already preparing myself. Tonight, I will go out alone.