was probably very tight for Usha Pramal’s brother, especially if he had a large extended family to provide for at home.
A man and woman were arguing in the small foyer when she came in. The man, who was standing behind the counter with arms folded, appeared to be waiting for money.
“If you want ten per bloody cent, what does that leave me with?”
“Ain’t up to me, love. It’s the guv’nor,” said the man. “If you want to make a bit here, then you’ve got to pay your way. That’s the rules. There’s always round the back of the train sheds, if you want it like that—then you don’t have to pay no one, do you? Mind you, you don’t get as much, so it’s down to what you want at your back—bricks or a mattress, call it like you want it.”
“You bleedin’ tyke.” The woman threw a couple of coins at the man, then turned and stormed towards Maisie.
“I’d find a better class of place, if I were you, love.” She looked Maisie in the eye and wagged her finger. “That bleeding crook over there’ll take the lot.”
Maisie stood back to allow the woman to pass, then made her way to the counter, where the man was placing the coins in his waistcoat pocket.
“I must apologize, madam. The previous guest was not of our usual class, and did not recognize a lady.” He inclined his head. “May I help you?”
“Yes,” said Maisie. “I wonder, do you have a guest here by the name of Mr. Pramal?”
“Indian chap?”
“Yes, that’s right. I understand he has been staying here.”
“He was here. I signed him in myself. I served in the war alongside their sort, so I don’t mind them about. Mind you, when the guv’nor came in he had other ideas, and said he had to go.”
“He was asked to leave the hotel? But why?”
The man reddened. “Well, miss, I didn’t think I would have to explain, but there are some who have a different opinion of them, you see.” He ran a finger around his face to indicate the color of Pramal’s skin. “It wasn’t me, like I said—I know a good man when I see one. But the bloke who owns this hotel has his moments, and he had one when he saw Mr. Pramal.”
“Mr. Pramal was a Regimental Sergeant Major in the war. He fought for our country—and your employer treated him like dirt? When he allows women like . . .” Maisie stopped herself. “Do you know where he went?”
“He said he was going back to his friend’s house. Very proud man, Mr. Pramal. When he came in, he said he didn’t want to stay with his mate, putting him out indefinitely, which is why he came here.” The man scratched his head, ruffling hair that Maisie thought was rarely washed. “But too good for this place, he was, if you ask me. Just went out in the morning, and came back at night, to his room. No messing around, never saw a woman coming out of there.”
“Thank you.” Maisie turned to leave, and then turned back, placing a sixpence on the counter. The man swept it up into his weskit pocket with a quick nod of the head.
Instead of returning directly to the office, Maisie walked along Buckingham Palace Road, past the Royal Mews and the Palace, and on towards Green Park. The afternoon remained fine, though a light breeze was swirling early autumn leaves along the street. Peddlers passed with their barrows, offering sweets, fruit, and ices. Taxi-cabs and buses blew exhaust fumes into the air, so Maisie drew her scarf over her nose and mouth. Once in the relative peace of the park, she chose a bench under a tree to simply sit and think.
What was evading her? Something obvious was there, hidden in plain sight—she could feel it, but she was missing the point. She’d allowed herself to be distracted by her own ambition. It was now a visceral feeling deep within her, the urge to be gone, to be somewhere else, a place other than this, and now. She wanted to beat her own path, and as time went on she wanted a physical distance between her and the past eighteen years, since 1914, even more.
Was that how Usha Pramal felt? Had she taken the position with the Allisons because she wanted distance? Distance from her family, from expectations, from her life in India? Or did she simply want distance from a love who