Page 10 of Mine before Dawn
The woman looked at her for a long second, then sighed.
“You do whatever needs doing,” she said. “And however long it takes. Got it?”
The girl nodded at once. “Yes.”
“You can use the room upstairs. Six pounds fifty a week. Come out your wages.”
Another nod, faster this time as she realized there was a possibility of a lifeline. “Yes… yes, thank you…”
“Don’t thank me yet. And for God's sake, stop the crying,” the woman said sharply, though there was no real bite in it. “You work hard, you keep your head down, and you don’t make trouble.”
“I won’t,” the girl blubbered. “I promise.”
The woman gave a short nod. “Alright, then.”
Behind them, the silence cracked with the impending fight.
The pub owner turned sharply and strode toward the back, his expression thunderous.
“Mavis,” he snapped and walked into the backroom, slamming the door behind him..
She didn’t answer him, just let out another sigh like the whole world was too much trouble and followed.
The back-room door swung behind them.
A moment later, the muffled shouting began.
“—out of your mind—”
“—we’ve got no call—”
“—she’ll have the place stripped bare, you watch—silver gone—”
“—and that kid—”
“—don’t know what he’s carrying—”
“—bloody bastard child—”
The words blurred together, rising and falling in angry waves.
Out in the bar, conversation resumed—but everyone was listening. A few men glanced toward the door. Others looked at the girl.
Asha stood where she was. Her hands still trembled slightly at her sides. The boy pressed close against her again while her arm moved soothingly over his back. All the while, she was aware of a pair of piercing eyes taking it all in. He was intimidating and she was afraid to look his way.
She simply stood there until Mavis came back and asked her to get some sleep because tomorrow, she needed to be up by five.
Chapter 5
6months later.
The boy burrowed deeper under the covers, curling into himself with a small, stubborn huff.
“Too early, mummy,” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep, dragging the blanket over his head and moving into the warm spot she just vacated. Their little garret on the fourth floor of the converted apartment building was drafty—the cold morning breeze slipped like a thief through the cracks.
Asha sat on the edge of the narrow bed, her nimble fingers burrowing under the blanket to smooth over the curve of his shoulder before moving in for a tickle. “I have to get to work, baba.”
“Ammaaa…” he whined, reverting to Amma again as he clutched the covers tighter. Ever since he started school, Amma had given way to 'mum' or 'mummy'. Just a month ago, she had stayed up late to bake a cake in an aluminium pot filled with beach sand for his fifth birthday. She had cut it into neat little pieces and sent it to school. He had returned with a smile and an assortment of sweets, pencils and pebbles that his mates hadgiven him. He was adjusting well, especially since he seemed to have a knack for rugby.
