by Zoey Gong
“Those places charge a fee,” Priya reminded them. “A hefty one.”
“Well, the children are all in school now for a large part of the day. I could take in some washing and sewing. Earn the fees that way.”
“Amma! No!” Priya said. “I can’t have you work even more to pay for the mess I have put us in!”
Amma shook her head and looked at Priya with pity. “My dear little tiger. That is what parents do. We sacrifice all for our children.”
“I won’t let you!” Priya said, jumping to her feet and running to the door.
“Where are you going?” Amma asked.
“I…I don’t know,” Priya said. “But I’m going to figure this out!” She left the little house before her parents could stop her. She didn’t know where she was going to go or what she was going to do, but she couldn’t just sit around any longer. She needed to do something. She needed to at least go for a walk, clear her head.
She walked toward the main house, which lit up the night like a lantern. She looked up into one of the windows and saw Lucille brushing out her hair. She looked angelic, her golden halo glowing in the dark.
Priya both loved and hated Lucille. Lucille was spoiled, yes, but she was kind and funny. When they were girls, they had pinky swore to always be there for each other. But as they got older, more and more doors opened for Lucille, while more and more closed on Priya. Lucille could do anything she wanted. She could marry or go to university. She could stay in India or go back to England. She could open her own business here in India or be a memsahib like her mother. But for Priya, she only ever had two options—marriage or servitude. And now even those options were closed to her.
At a loss for what else to do, Priya silently slipped up the steps to the back porch. Then she walked over to the gable that held the creeping roses and climbed up it. Once she was on the overhanging for the second floor, she inched along the wall until she reached Lucille’s window. She tapped on it and heard a gasp from inside. She waved, and a moment later the window flew open and Lucille reached her hand out. Priya grabbed it and jumped into the room.
“Priya!” Lucille whispered loudly. “What are you doing here?”
Priya straightened herself and smoothed out her sari. “I was just out for a walk and thought I would stop by. For old times’ sake.”
“Hmm,” Lucille said, cocking her eyebrow. “Old times indeed. I can’t remember the last time you snuck in here.”
Priya shrugged her shoulders. She couldn’t either. But it had been a while. When Priya was little, her mother would put her to bed and then have to go back to the main house to tend to the Parker babies overnight. Priya would get scared and lonely, so she would sneak out and climb into Lucille’s bedroom where they would laugh and play until they passed out. At first light, Priya would sneak back home, her mother never the wiser. But after the children were old enough to sleep through the night, Amma was able to spend the night in her own home, so Priya’s nighttime visits to Lucille were curtailed.
“Do you want to talk about today?” Lucille asked.
“Not really,” Priya said. “It was pretty terrible.”
“You aren’t kidding,” Lucille said. “After you left, Mrs. Evans wouldn’t stop railing about how insufferable it would be to have Indian servants. Her husband was trying to keep things under control, but he was furious. Apparently, it was hard enough convincing the woman to come here and now he’s afraid she is just going to run back home, even though there is no way they could afford it.”
“Why do such women even bother coming?” Priya asked. “They are miserable here and they make everyone else miserable as well. Just stay in your own country!”
“They are families,” Lucille said with a shrug. “They want to be together. I can’t imagine going back to England and leaving my parents back here.”
“My parents are talking about sending me to Goa, or Calcutta,” Priya said sadly. “They are afraid I won’t find a job here in Bombay.”
“That’s terrible!” Lucille said. “We’d never see each other again!”
Priya nodded, even though not seeing Lucille hadn’t even crossed her mind before now. She had been rather indifferent to the possibility, but now, in the presence of her friend, she realized that she would miss her too.
“We don’t know what else to do,” Priya said. “No one in Bombay will hire me.”
“No one who is staying in Bombay will hire you,” Lucille said, a mischievous smile crossing her face.
“What do you mean?” Priya asked.
“I overheard my papa talking to one of his business associates a few days ago,” Lucille said as she went to her desk and pulled out a pen and piece of paper. “His name was Lord Fullerton. He’s an exporter. He said that there is a need for Indian women overseas. But they only stay for a few years.”
“What do you mean?” Priya asked. “What kind of need? Why do they only stay a few years?”
“I don’t know exactly,” Lucille said. “Servants I guess. Servants in England make a lot more money than servants here. I think they earn so much money, they don’t have to work for long and then they come back home.”
“There are Indian servants in England?” Priya asked.
Lucille shrugged. “The last time I was there, many families had India servants they had taken back with them. Maybe having Indian servants is becoming fashionable.”
Priya chuffed at the idea of being a fashion statement, but the possibility of being a servant in England, and making a lot of money in the process, certainly held some appeal. She hated the idea of being sent to Calcutta, but even living there, she would never see her parents again. She could never earn enough money to come home. England might be further away, but if she could earn enough money to come back home, and have money to spare, it might be worth it.
“Where can I find Lord Fullerton?” Priya asked.
Lucille tore off the piece of paper and handed it to her. “It’s a little far. Probably dangerous at night to get there. But you could go tomorrow morning. I could even go with you!”
Priya looked at the paper. The address was another British neighborhood a few miles away. It would be dangerous to try and get there at night, but Priya was anxious to meet this man and find out what he could do for her. She didn’t want to waste a moment. If she could make arrangements to travel to England and have good news for her parents in the morning about her future, then they wouldn’t have to worry anymore.
Priya clutched the paper to her chest and then squeezed Lucille’s hand. “Yes,” she said. “In the morning. Thank you, my dear friend.”
Lucille beamed and pulled Priya in for a hug. Priya sighed and hugged her friend back. When Lucille finally let her go, Priya went back to the window and slipped back down to the garden. Once she was safe back on the grass, Lucille waved at her and then pulled her curtain shut. Then, instead of heading back home, Priya went out a side gate and into the dark streets of the city.
Chapter Four
As Priya slipped out the side gate, her heart beat fast in her chest. She had never ventured outside of the estate’s gates at night before. It was far too dangerous for a girl to be out alone. As soon as she heard the gate lock click behind her, she turned around and tried to pull it back open. This was a mistake! But the gate was locked, and from this side of the house, there was no way back inside without knocking on the front door, which she wasn’t about to do. She could not face Sahib and Memsahib Parker after the events of the day.
She took a few deep breaths and put one foot in front of the other. In only a few steps, she was at the street. This neighborhood was not particularly frightening. There were lamps along the street and it was rather quiet. All the houses had lights burning inside them, which gave the street a warm glow. There were a few Indian people out, working in the front yards or walking pet dogs for their sahibs, but for the most part, the street was deserted. At the far end of the street, she could see two British men in uniform. They served as night w
atchmen to keep the neighborhood secure. Priya slipped down the street in the opposite direction, staying to the shadows. She didn’t want to risk being seen and dragged back home. When she got to the end of the road, she turned left and kept walking.
It didn’t take long for the atmosphere to completely change. The street got noisy and crowded as she stepped into a bustling night market. She was surprised to see so many people out. Men, women, and even children. Though no one seemed to be alone. The children were in groups and accompanied by at least one parent, and the women were all in the company of men. Priya rubbed her arms and moved quickly, avoiding eye contact.
The street was filthy, and she could feel moisture seeping through the soft soles of her shoes, but she kept walking. She passed a house with several women in beautiful shining saris hanging about and calling to the men nearby. The smoke and spices from the food stalls threatened to cloud her eyes. Everyone shouted at each other as they tried to hawk their wares. After a while, Priya couldn’t help but slow her steps as some beautiful necklaces and shoes caught her eye.
“Pretty trinkets for a pretty girl!” a man called out to her. She shook her head and kept walking.
“What are you doing out so late, pretty girl?” another man called from a stall across the way.
Priya turned away and quickened her steps again. She realized she had left the house without anything. No money, no identification. If someone tried to rob her, they would be sorely disappointed. If she were killed, there would be no way to identify her body. As her heart beat hard in her chest, she walked faster. Why had she left the house at night? She was so stupid.
“Hey, girl!” someone called out. She had no idea if the man was calling to her or not. She didn’t stop to see. She took off at a full run, her long braid flowing behind her.
She turned down a side alley and kept running. She could see the end of the market just ahead, and then it would be only a few blocks to the British neighborhood where Lord Fullerton lived. But then she felt someone grab her arm and jerk her backward. She screamed but a hand covered her mouth.
“Hey, pretty girl,” the man said, his breath hot on her ear. “No need to scream.”
She raised her knee and it connected with the man’s groin. He grunted and loosened his grip. She was able to slip away from him and through a market stall. The family working there seemed surprised, but she kept running. She darted from one stall to another, from one aisle to the next. Some people tried to stop her, but whether they wanted to help her or assault her, she had no idea. She wormed her way out of their grasps and finally out of the market completely. She ran into a wooded area and hid among the shrubs and shadows while she caught her breath. She was scared and knew she had made a wrong choice. She never should have left home alone at night. She should have waited until the morning. But now, returning home would mean going back through the crowded marketplace and knocking on the front door of the house to get inside. She pulled the address for Lord Fullerton out of her pocket. She was closer to her destination than to her home. There was no going back now. If she could just get to Lord Fullerton’s and make arrangements, then he could help her get back home to say goodbye to her parents. She shored up her courage, took a deep breath, and got back to her feet.
Soon, she was in the British neighborhood where she should be able to find Lord Fullerton’s house. It was much later now, and the night was pitch black. There were no people milling about, save for a few night watchmen. She darted from yard to yard and from tree to tree to avoid the guards. She wasn’t sure which house she was looking for, so she had to look at the numbers on each one to try and find the right house.
She screamed when she ended up too close to a dog in one of the yards. The dog barked furiously and charged toward her. She ran to the street, but thankfully the dog was stopped by a chain around his neck. But as she turned, she saw two of the night watchmen running toward her with their guns raised. She knew better than to try and run. The men would most certainly shoot her and then ask questions later. She raised her hands and lowered her eyes.
“I’m lost,” she said pitifully as the guards reached her.
“Who are you?” one of the men demanded.
“My name is Priya,” she said. No sense in lying. She didn’t need to tell them the whole truth, just enough to get her where she needed to go. “I…I was running an errand for Lord Fullerton and lost track of the time. I’m just trying to get home.”
“You work for Lord Fullerton?” one of the men asked.
“I…I can show you,” she said. The men nodded and she slowly reached her hand into her pocket and pulled out the paper with Lord Fullerton’s address. It wasn’t anything official, but there were scant reasons why she would have the address in her pocket. She handed the paper to one of the guards, who snatched it out of her hand.
“She does appear to have been heading to Martin’s house,” the man said to his companion.
“Right,” the second man said, lowering his rifle. “It’s dangerous out here for a maid, don’t you know?”
“I know,” she said humbly. “I’m heading inside right now.”
“We’ll escort you,” the first man said, gripping her arm.
She nodded her thanks, glad that they would take her to the right house. But how would Lord Fullerton react? He wouldn’t know her or be expecting her. She had to think fast.
One of the guards knocked on the door and an Indian butler opened it.
“This girl says she’s lost,” the guard told him.
“Yes?” the butler asked, confused.
“I was sent by Lord Fullerton to see Sahib Parker,” Priya interjected.
The butler looked even more confused.
“Is Lord Fullerton at home?” the guard asked. “We just want to make sure everything is on the up and up.”
The butler gave a polite bow and ducked into the house. A moment later, a tall white man with silver hair and a full beard holding a brandy glass appeared.
“What’s all this then, good sirs?” he asked.
“This young lady says she belongs to you, m’lord,” one of the guards said.
“Does she?” Fullerton said, cocking an eyebrow at her. Priya dared to look him in the eye with a pleading look. Apparently, his curiosity got the better of him and he gave a laugh. “Of course she does! I had forgotten for a moment. You know, all these darkie servants look the same at first glance. Get in here, girl. You’re quite late.”
Priya ripped her arm from the guard and slipped inside the house. She heard Fullerton thank the guards and then shut the door behind her. At first, she was in awe of the house. It was far more grand and well-apportioned than the Parker house. The Parker house had once been an Indian house, but it had been modified to be more British. They added rugs and wall-hangings, but the house still felt cobbled together. This house seemed to have been built from the ground up in the British style. While the Parkers had always seemed rich, this man felt like true wealth. She had never considered that there could be a difference before now.
“So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this surprise visit…?” Fullerton asked.
“Priya,” she offered. “My name is Priya.”
“Priya,” Fullerton repeated and then sipped from his glass, never taking his eyes off of her. Priya felt her skin crawl, but she did not avert her gaze. She had come here to ask for a job. She needed to show confidence.
“Priya,” he said again and motioned with his hand down a hallway. “Please, join me in my study.” He then turned and led the way, taking for granted that she would follow him.
He stopped at a room and slid the doors open, revealing a room of dark wood and rich colors. The walls were lined with books and a large desk sat to one side. The stuffed carcass of a tiger lunging forward with her claws extended and fangs bared was situated in one corner.
“I shot that myself,” Fullerton said when he saw her eyes linger on the tiger. She gave a small smile to hide her disdain. She did not understand th
e British obsession with hunting trophies. While Indians hunted for food and sometimes had to kill a tiger that was a danger to a village, they did not hunt for sport. While not all Hindus were vegetarian, it was a sacred duty to inflict as little pain on the world as possible.
“Would you care for a drink?” Fullerton offered her a brandy glass. She shook her head. “Very well,” he said and he motioned for the butler who Priya had not heard follow them into the room. “Tea for Miss Priya.”
“Sir,” the man said as he bowed out of the room.
“So,” Fullerton said as he sat behind his desk and motioned for her to take a seat across from him. “What can I do for you? You mentioned something about Parker?”
Priya decided to fudge the truth a bit to increase her chances of getting a job. “Sahib Parker said that you have jobs, opportunities for Indian girls overseas.”
This seemed to peek Fullerton’s attention. The butler returned and placed a tea tray on a table.
“That will do, Arjun,” he said and quickly ushered the butler out of the room, sliding the door shut behind him. He then went over and prepared a cup of tea for Priya himself.
“No thank you,” she said when he offered her the cup. “I don’t want to be a bother.”
“It’s no bother,” he said, pushing the cup into her hand. “And I insist.”
She gave a small smile and sipped at the tea, which was actually quite good. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Fullerton then sat on the edge of his desk near her. “So, you’ve come to me to find…work of some sort overseas. You must be in a hell of a lot of trouble.”
Priya gulped more of her tea. How could he know? Well, of course, only girls who were out of options in India would even consider taking a job in another country.
“I…I was stupid,” she admitted. “I made a mistake. Ruined my chance at getting a position with a good family and my parents are too poor for a dowry.”
“Was it a boy?” Fullerton asked suggestively and Priya gasped. “This stupid thing you did, did it ruin you for marriage?”