And at the pub, Asha slowly became part of the scenery.
Not fully accepted, but no longer entirely foreign either. A hard worker and a devoted mother. Not one to mess with if you didn't want to meet James in a dark alley.
One evening, a group of younger men from the brickworks came in together. They had been to another pub before this and they were loud and half-drunk before they even sat down.
One of them caught her attention.
Or rather—she caught his.
He was younger than most of the miners. Lean-faced and handsome, with warm brown skin, curly dark hair and intense eyes that followed her every movement. Twice she caught him staring, only to quickly look away. She knew he was either Indian or from Pakistan.
The third time their eyes met, he smiled. By his third pint, his courage bloomed enough to ask her name. She only smiled and slipped away.
As she placed another beer in front of him, he suddenly spoke in a familiar language from home.
“You shouldn’t be in a place like this.”
The words made her feel both homesick and terrified at the same time. She had often wondered what her traditional mother would have said had she seen her now, serving alcohol to men.
For one startled second, she nearly answered in the same language before remembering herself.
“The owners prefer that we speak English here,” she replied shortly before walking away. The truth was she didn't know if either Patrick or Mavis had opinions of that sort but she wasn't risking her job for nostalgia.
She could not help but feel regret as she watched the smile slip from his young face. He must be lonely in this foreign land.
A few men looked curiously between them.
Across the pub James had turned his focus to this new threat to what he considered his territory. He was sitting near the far wall with two of his friends, pint untouched in his hand.
The young man tried again later when she passed with empty glasses.
“Come now,” he said once more. “At least speak properly to your own people.”
Asha was not aware that James had risen despite his friends trying to talk him down. The young man seemed oblivious to the approaching danger.
James crossed the floor slowly, pale eyes fixed entirely on the other man's bent head.
The lad noticed too late. His grin faltered and his throat bobbed as James advanced towards him.
A thick hand clamped around James’s forearm before he could reach him.
“Easy, lad,” said Patrick in the tone he used to soothe his unruly sons.
The older man’s voice was calm but promised to bodily remove James if he broke anything.
Asha watched with trepidation as James’s muscles bunched beneath his rolled sleeves before relaxing. His gaze never left the younger man. For one frightening second Asha truly thought he intended to drag him outside and squeeze the life out of him.
The entire pub had fallen silent. The young brick worker swallowed hard, all of the swagger draining from his face.
Patrick tightened his grip slightly.
“Ain’t worth prison over this, is it?”
James breathed once through his nose. Then again before slowly stepping back.
But his expression promised pain. The young man looked away first. Then James turned his silver eyes to shoot apossessive warning at Asha to stay well away. Mavis took over the table.
And later that evening, while Asha stood alone in the back corridor trying to steady her nerves which had still not recovered, Mavis appeared beside her with a long, suffering sigh.
