Part Ninety-eight
Mar. 21st, 2025 09:08 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
luthier_balloonistOriginally posted here
Barir was daydreaming at work, barely paying attention to columns of numbers in favour of recalling particular details of the previous Sunday, when the door opened and Jenny sailed in. A couple of the newer clerks stared at her, and one even stood as though to ask what she was doing, but Barir's other colleagues had long grown used to Jenny’s regular lunchtime appearances.
“Hullo,” she said, leaning over Barir's desk to close his ledger with a thud. “When you’re finished, meet me at that old bookshop on Compton Street.”
“I was in the middle of that,” Barir protested, rather feebly, glancing at the door of Mr Pelham’s office, which thankfully remained firmly closed.
The look on Jenny's face told him that she knew full well he had been in the middle of woolgathering. Barir gave up without any fight; it was almost lunchtime, and meeting with Jenny was far better than trying to force himself back into productivity. She had a determined air about her that afternoon, a particular set to her jaw that long experience told Barir was not worth arguing with.
He soon found out that Jenny wasn't just interested in his company. He met her at the bookshop, where the old man behind the counter was eyeing her suspiciously; the suspicion took on almost physical proportions when Barir joined her, and was not alleviated even when Jenny paid for a book. He did not have time to dwell on that, however, as Jenny spirited him out of the shop and to a nearby park for a walk in the weak winter sun.
“I need your help,” she said briskly.
“Oh yes? Another gala? I'm not sure December is the right time for that.”
“Don't be ridiculous. No, it's this new work I've been doing, trying to help Indians who are in trouble here. A young couple came to see me yesterday, but they speak very little English. I wonder if you might be able to assist with translation?”
“You do realise there are tens of languages spoken in India? Do you know what this couple do speak? It would be a fine thing to haul me in only to find that they speak Gujarati.”
“Give me a little more credit, Barir!” Jenny exclaimed. “I have not been your friend for this long without learning a few things. No, I am certain they speak Urdu, or at least the woman does.” She hesitated for a moment. “She told me her name, but I’m not sure she was telling the truth about that. From what I could gather, she and her husband had fled very suddenly, and arrived in England a few weeks ago. I had to wonder—”
Barir’s heart stuttered, a sudden nervousness in his chest. “You think this young woman is Miss Khan.”
“I'm not certain. But perhaps. Either way, would you translate? If you can't I shall ask Mr Sharma to ask Mr Malik, but I understand that they are very busy, and I told the couple to come back this afternoon.”
“This afternoon! Jenny—!”
“I know, my dear, but I don't like to leave them waiting for long. They seemed so very lost, and I wish to help as soon as I can.”
Barir sighed, a plume of air fogging before him. It was just like Jenny, to make promises and then to push through anything in order to deliver them. If she had been the one cursed to roll a boulder up a hill for eternity she would have had the thing secured at the top within a week.
“Oh, very well, of course I’ll help.”
“Capital fellow. I knew you would!” Jenny took his arm, briskly pleased. “You know, I have high hopes for this new society. I didn’t realise how terribly some of your fellows have been treated; there have been Lascar chaps here for months, unable to work or find passage home, because so many ships refuse to employ them, and when they do, the conditions are so dreadful that many are left terribly ill and injured. Mr Sharma gave a towering speech to me about it; I wish I’d worked with him before.”
Barir made an agreeable sort of noise. None of what Jenny had learned was new or surprising to him, and he had been the recipient of many of Sharma’s towering speeches, but of course Jenny’s response to hearing of such hardship had been to try to help. It was one of the things Barir loved best about her; when she had first tried to help him he had found her interfering, but he soon learned that Jenny simply could not stand to let an injustice slide.
“Now that we are beginning to set up in earnest, and raise money and donations, I find that we need somebody to keep track of things, ensure it’s all budgeted correctly, etcetera,” Jenny was saying.
“‘Somebody’,” Barir repeated wryly. “Why do I have a feeling that I know the name of this poor chap?”
“Poor chap, my hat. I have been managing it myself so far, but we really do need somebody to take them over. Will you at least consider it?”
Barir did not much want to spend even more of his life looking over columns of figures, but he had always felt rather guilty for not following in Jenny and Amador’s charitable footsteps. If he were actively trying to help the poor Indians of Britain, then he could feel that he was doing some good in the world, and could even turn his return to the country into something that would help his countrymen. A selfish reason, perhaps.
“I’ll think about it,” he said. “But look, my friend: how fine the weather is, for the season. I’m considering getting the balloon out this weekend, if it remains fair. Would you come up with me?” He felt a little guilty for the fact that he would have preferred to invite Kay, but he had barely seen Jenny this last week, and Kay had a great many rehearsals for the impending Christmas concerts.
Jenny smiled, tipping her face up into the pale winter sun. “Oh yes! I would like to drag Carlos up again, but I think once was quite enough for him. No constitution at all.”
Barir was daydreaming at work, barely paying attention to columns of numbers in favour of recalling particular details of the previous Sunday, when the door opened and Jenny sailed in. A couple of the newer clerks stared at her, and one even stood as though to ask what she was doing, but Barir's other colleagues had long grown used to Jenny’s regular lunchtime appearances.
“Hullo,” she said, leaning over Barir's desk to close his ledger with a thud. “When you’re finished, meet me at that old bookshop on Compton Street.”
“I was in the middle of that,” Barir protested, rather feebly, glancing at the door of Mr Pelham’s office, which thankfully remained firmly closed.
The look on Jenny's face told him that she knew full well he had been in the middle of woolgathering. Barir gave up without any fight; it was almost lunchtime, and meeting with Jenny was far better than trying to force himself back into productivity. She had a determined air about her that afternoon, a particular set to her jaw that long experience told Barir was not worth arguing with.
He soon found out that Jenny wasn't just interested in his company. He met her at the bookshop, where the old man behind the counter was eyeing her suspiciously; the suspicion took on almost physical proportions when Barir joined her, and was not alleviated even when Jenny paid for a book. He did not have time to dwell on that, however, as Jenny spirited him out of the shop and to a nearby park for a walk in the weak winter sun.
“I need your help,” she said briskly.
“Oh yes? Another gala? I'm not sure December is the right time for that.”
“Don't be ridiculous. No, it's this new work I've been doing, trying to help Indians who are in trouble here. A young couple came to see me yesterday, but they speak very little English. I wonder if you might be able to assist with translation?”
“You do realise there are tens of languages spoken in India? Do you know what this couple do speak? It would be a fine thing to haul me in only to find that they speak Gujarati.”
“Give me a little more credit, Barir!” Jenny exclaimed. “I have not been your friend for this long without learning a few things. No, I am certain they speak Urdu, or at least the woman does.” She hesitated for a moment. “She told me her name, but I’m not sure she was telling the truth about that. From what I could gather, she and her husband had fled very suddenly, and arrived in England a few weeks ago. I had to wonder—”
Barir’s heart stuttered, a sudden nervousness in his chest. “You think this young woman is Miss Khan.”
“I'm not certain. But perhaps. Either way, would you translate? If you can't I shall ask Mr Sharma to ask Mr Malik, but I understand that they are very busy, and I told the couple to come back this afternoon.”
“This afternoon! Jenny—!”
“I know, my dear, but I don't like to leave them waiting for long. They seemed so very lost, and I wish to help as soon as I can.”
Barir sighed, a plume of air fogging before him. It was just like Jenny, to make promises and then to push through anything in order to deliver them. If she had been the one cursed to roll a boulder up a hill for eternity she would have had the thing secured at the top within a week.
“Oh, very well, of course I’ll help.”
“Capital fellow. I knew you would!” Jenny took his arm, briskly pleased. “You know, I have high hopes for this new society. I didn’t realise how terribly some of your fellows have been treated; there have been Lascar chaps here for months, unable to work or find passage home, because so many ships refuse to employ them, and when they do, the conditions are so dreadful that many are left terribly ill and injured. Mr Sharma gave a towering speech to me about it; I wish I’d worked with him before.”
Barir made an agreeable sort of noise. None of what Jenny had learned was new or surprising to him, and he had been the recipient of many of Sharma’s towering speeches, but of course Jenny’s response to hearing of such hardship had been to try to help. It was one of the things Barir loved best about her; when she had first tried to help him he had found her interfering, but he soon learned that Jenny simply could not stand to let an injustice slide.
“Now that we are beginning to set up in earnest, and raise money and donations, I find that we need somebody to keep track of things, ensure it’s all budgeted correctly, etcetera,” Jenny was saying.
“‘Somebody’,” Barir repeated wryly. “Why do I have a feeling that I know the name of this poor chap?”
“Poor chap, my hat. I have been managing it myself so far, but we really do need somebody to take them over. Will you at least consider it?”
Barir did not much want to spend even more of his life looking over columns of figures, but he had always felt rather guilty for not following in Jenny and Amador’s charitable footsteps. If he were actively trying to help the poor Indians of Britain, then he could feel that he was doing some good in the world, and could even turn his return to the country into something that would help his countrymen. A selfish reason, perhaps.
“I’ll think about it,” he said. “But look, my friend: how fine the weather is, for the season. I’m considering getting the balloon out this weekend, if it remains fair. Would you come up with me?” He felt a little guilty for the fact that he would have preferred to invite Kay, but he had barely seen Jenny this last week, and Kay had a great many rehearsals for the impending Christmas concerts.
Jenny smiled, tipping her face up into the pale winter sun. “Oh yes! I would like to drag Carlos up again, but I think once was quite enough for him. No constitution at all.”
