Page 35 of Mine before Dawn
The next morning life continued because there wasn't an alternative, even if Asha's chest felt like someone had scooped her insides out with a rusty spoon.
The boy refused to get up for school. This was the way of things now. Asha sat on the edge of her bed while the boy curled stubbornly beneath the blanket with his back to her. He had crept in when he heard her cry at night.
“Tanay.”
A muffled groan answered her.
“We have to leave soon.”
“My tummy hurts,” he whimpered.
She closed her eyes briefly, praying for endurance. This again.
It was the third time this month. Last week it had been a headache. The week before that, his ankle had supposedly hurt after rugby at school.
At first, she had believed him. Growing children get aches all the time. He had spent the day happily following her around.
But now that instinct of a mother whispered to her that there was more going on than met the eye. She had already spoken to his teacher twice but she said he was doing well and he had friends.
The boy had become quieter recently. Moody in strange unpredictable ways. He no longer chattered endlessly during the walks home. Asha thought this was part of him growing up. Sometimes she caught him staring into space with a blank expression which scared her. Sometimes she caught him staring at her. This scared her more.
“Please,” she said softly, stroking his hair back from his forehead. “You cannot miss another day. Amma has to work.”
She sighed when he only curled tighter. His hair had grown too long again. Another thing to add to the list.
Asha rose slowly and crossed to the small cupboard where she kept the chocolate tin. It was old and slightly dented, painted with brightly coloured horses and ladies in gowns. James had brought it home one evening for Tanay. The boy had treasured it instantly.
Now, it held their savings.
A handful of pennies. A few shillings. A roll of pound notes held together by a rubber band. A pocket account book in which Asha planned the month. Asha lifted the lid and counted carefully.
There was enough for a haircut.
She had tried to open a bank account months ago. The man behind the counter had been kind, unlike many. But kindness changed nothing.
“You’ll need your husband’s signature.”
When she explained she was widowed, his face had altered awkwardly and he disappeared before returning with an intimidating stack of forms. It required things from her that were impossible. She never went back.
So, the money stayed here instead, hidden inside a loose floorboard with the ancient rug pulled on top.
Asha extracted enough coins for the barber and after hesitating, added two pennies more.
“For sweets after school,” she told Tanay, pressing them into his hand while he sat at the table morosely stirring his porridge into mush.
Immediately, his eyes brightened despite himself.
“But only if you come with me.”
He grumbled under his breath and then finally started eating.
The day dragged on. Asha worked mechanically at the seamstress shop, fingers moving through hems and stitching while her thoughts spiralled elsewhere entirely. She kept catching herself glancing toward the door. Waiting for what, she did not know.
James never came here anyway.
By afternoon, the ache inside her chest had become like a living entity inside her.
When she collected the boy from school, she noticed the marks while helping him onto the bus. Thin bruised red lines across the backs of his calves beneath his trousers.
