We passed her as we walked in. I’ve seen her there a few times. She and her boyfriend (or maybe even her husband) sleep on the ground in front of the china shop on Terrace Road. They lie on a double mattress placed on top of sheets of cardboard. She was asleep when we walked past, her face and long black hair exposed. She was outside Smiths when we’d finished our tea and coffees in the coffee shop where I do my drawing practice. He asked if she wanted something to eat. Yes, she said, fruit and a bottle of coke. I tried to converse with her while he went into the SPAR to get them. She is a tiny thing, delicate, almost Indian in appearance and manner (she bowed when he gave her the food and drink). She said where she was from but couldn’t tell me how long they had been here. My English, she said, then faltered. That’s OK, I said and smiled and then let her be.
