“Dream sensible,” she advised. “Life’s easier that way. You won't be disappointed in the end.”
There were other things too—small remarks that slipped out so naturally Mavis never likely thought twice about them.
“English people don’t always understand spicy food,” she said, when Asha had brought a helping of vegetable curry for Mavis. But bless her kind heart, she had tried a bite or two before downing a pint of beer.
“You speak lovely English, but speak only when you need to if you can,” she said, when she happened upon Asha reading a newspaper someone had left behind. Asha mentioned she lovedbooks and the next day, Mavis brought a box full of old books. She brushed her thanks away, mumbling about using them as kindling if Asha didn't want them.
“The boy sounds local now,” she remarked, as she listened to the boy talking to Patrick about school.
“Folk here aren’t bad people, mind. They just don't trust what they don’t know.”
Every word was offered with the sincere belief she was helping her survive in this strange place. And in many ways, she was. Asha was a woman of colour, a widowed mother in a foreign land.
Mavis watched out for her fiercely in the pub. She intercepted wandering hands with a glare sharp enough to strip skin. She slipped her leftovers in paper parcels “for the boy.” She made sure Asha took home extra coal during cold weeks. Once, when a customer made a filthy remark about foreign women, Mavis had cracked him across the head with a tray. And while Patrick was looming, no one dared talk back.
But her kindness existed alongside her rigid, immovable beliefs of the world she had grown up in. It was a world where there were lines between people and these were not to be crossed under any circumstances.
Lines of class. Of race. Of religion. Of colour. Of who belonged and who were merely passers-by.
And so, that evening, while wiping the counter clean with a rag, Mavis sighed and returned to the subject of James.
“That lad James,” she said. “He is a good lad. But Tommy, the barber's boy two shops down, said he saw him buy a box of French letters, he did. Best you stay away.”
Asha kept drying the glasses carefully, wondering French letters were.
“Why?” she asked before she could stop herself.
“Because men like him don’t stay tied to places... or people. Especially not with a face like that.” Mavis snorted softly. “And because folk talk. You can't be too careful, what with him following you home and all.”
She hesitated before adding.
“He had a sweetheart once. Nice local girl. A clever little thing with the biggest blue eyes and blonde hair. She finished high school and works in London now. His mam still speaks like they’re half-promised.” Another shrug. “Girls like that usually come back. I think if he had given her an inkling that she was going to be his missus, she would have stayed.”
Asha said nothing. She didn't know why her heart felt like someone had reached into her chest and squeezed hard.
Mavis watched her for a moment with knowing eyes. Her expression went soft to see the stricken expression Asha couldn't hide.
“Oh, don’t look wounded, love. All I’m saying is he likes you. Anyone with eyes can see he’s half gone over you.” Her mouth twitched faintly. “But liking someone and building a life with them are two different matters.”
The regulars started slowly trickling in.
Mavis lowered her voice.
“You’ve got to think of your boy first. Men can afford foolishness. Women cannot.”
Asha folded the cloth in her hands.
Mavis continued gently.
“You work hard. People respect that. But this town…” She shook her head. “People can be polite enough once they know you. Doesn’t mean they forget you’re different.”
There it was again.
It was a simple fact of life, as far as Mavis understood the world. And Asha did not hold it against her.
“James comes from decent stock,” she said quietly. “His family will expect certain things. Church weddings. Babies christened proper.” She gave Asha a tired look. “You told me you are a… Hindu is it? See, people don't know what that means. People like life to make sense. Anything which doesn't...”
Then she reached out and briefly squeezed Asha’s wrist.
