By the time they returned, the street lights had started to cast patches of light in the blooming darkness. The cold had begun to creep through the gaps in their clothes.
The pub stood just as it had the day before. The same sign with the engraving of a falcon creaked faintly in the wind. The glow of the pub lights was like a lodestone for the weary. The same cluster of men gathered outside and spilling into the doorway, their voices carrying into the street.
For a second, Asha stopped in the shadows, drawing her mask of indifference on. She knew the evening's entertainment would begin the moment she stepped into the light.
Then, with no choice, she moved forward.
Inside, the air was thick like the day before—smoke, heat, the sour-sweet smell of beer. The room was crowded, alive with music and laughter.
And the same faces.
Some looked up in recognition. She recognized the large man with eyes like quicksilver from the night before.
It might have been her imagination but he seemed more intimidating today—or perhaps it was the way he carried himself, certain of his place among the others. His eyes found her immediately, a slow grin spreading across his broad face as though he had been expecting her.
“Well,” the man next to him drawled, loud enough for those nearby to hear. “Told you she’d be back.”
A few men chuckled, but she did not look at them.
She kept her gaze forward with her hand tight around the boy’s, and walked past as though she had somewhere she needed to be.
Behind her, his voice followed.
“The bed is cold at night, innit?” he called.
More laughter. Through the corner of her eye, she noticed a woman sitting on a man's lap in a nearby booth. Her skirts were bunched up, exposing the smooth expanse of slender pale thighs. She quickly looked away as another man commented in her direction.
“Reckon we can still sort something out for you—”
With relief, she spotted Mavis behind the bar.
The woman was already watching her, waiting to see what she would do next. She had never felt more like an animal on display in the zoo.
There wasn't a pause in the rhythm of pouring and wiping as the she approached with trepidation.
Asha stopped at the counter, her fingers gripping around the edge of it as she searched for the right words through a throat gone dry.
“Can I… speak to you for a second?” she croaked in her accented English. She was conscious of her son watching everything.
Mavis's eyes seemed to soften a smidgen as she took in the exhaustion etched across the girl's face. She leaned forward a fraction. “Go on.”
The girl swallowed.
“Please… is there any work here for me?” she said, the words coming quick, tripping over each other in their urgency. “I will do anything. I can cook, clean… I will sweep the floors… wash dishes… anything. I can read and write also… I am good at maths.”
Her hands had begun to tremble, though she kept them pressed flat against the wood as if willing them still.
“I just… I need work. Any work will do.”
The woman took in the thinness of her wrists, the careful frayed neatness of her dress, the top of the boy's head visible over the counter. He was watching everything with solemn, dark eyes.
“Where are you from, girl?” she asked, finally, as if she had been weighing the pros and cons.
“I…” She hesitated, then steadied herself. “I was living in London. But I am from India.”
She was aware of movement in the corner of the room. The pub owner with a round belly and a towel thrown over his shoulder was powering his way towards them.
She winced, knowing he was likely to throw them out. He had now reached the end of the bar, broad and looming. His arms were folded, thick forearms sprinkled with hair, his expression already betraying his unhappiness as he bore down on his wife.
