Page 37 of Mine before Dawn
She carried herself with the absolute certainty of belonging wherever she stood. She smiled with her mouth closed and her cool grey eyes swept the shop, lingering on Asha darning in the corner before passing on.
The shop owner greeted her warmly. Asha lowered her eyes back to her sewing. But she felt eyes on her. The woman kept looking at her, not rudely, but with curiosity.
It was like she was trying to place something.
Mrs. Wilmslow talked to her about fabrics and the dress she wanted to order. Then the woman began speaking with easy familiarity about her son’s upcoming wedding.
“He’s finally doing it,” she laughed. “After all these years.”
The seamstress smiled politely.
“Emma has returned from London then?”
“Oh yes. I kept telling him to write to her, but you know how he is. Stubborn just like his father, bless his heart.” The woman sounded delighted. “It was always going to happen eventually.”
Asha listened with only half an ear. Her thoughts were elsewhere entirely. For a moment she imagined living in a little house with James.
Her pleasant daydreams were interrupted when the bell above the door rang again and a young woman entered.
More striking than beautiful with bright eyes that made you stare. Her complexion was the sort described in novels—peaches and cream.
The afternoon light shone through golden hair that looked almost unreal beneath the dim shop lamps. Her clothes were fashionable and fitted perfectly. Everything about her appeared perfect.
“There she is,” the older woman beamed proudly.
The girl smiled and took the woman's outstretched hand.
Then the older woman said—
“James will be here soon in that new car of his if the traffic from the mines isn’t dreadful.”
She seemed to look at Asha expectantly, as if encouraging her to say something.
The world seemed to stop. Asha’s needle slipped straight through her fingertip. A drop of blood spilt onto the blue dress. Pain bloomed like a hothouse flower but she was barely aware of it. She couldn't have looked up if her life depended on it.
Mrs. Wilmslow glanced toward her quickly and then away.
Suddenly all the dots connected. The fog cleared. It all made sense.
The wedding.
The sweetheart from London.
Too soon.
Too soon.
The room tilted unpleasantly. She was aware of a buzzing in her ears as the women finished their business and left. The woman gave her a long look before leaving. The only mercy was that James never came.
Asha somehow finished the workday though afterward she could not remember a single thing she had sewn.
By evening, she moved mechanically through her routine in the pub while her devastated mind wandered. Mavis kept watching her with growing concern.
Even Patrick noticed eventually. When Asha nearly dropped an entire tray of drinks, his large rough hand shot out to steady it.
“You eaten today?” he asked gruffly.
She blinked at him blankly. Patrick exchanged a helpless look with Mavis over her head, as if begging for intervention. He never spoke or looked at her if he could help it. With time, Asha had realized he was shy, not rude.
