Chapter 19

My first job the next morning was to get Nasreen Baji’s breakfast tray ready to bring up to her. The meal was a simple one: tea, toast with a dollop of jam, and a plate of sliced apples. Mumtaz showed me where the trays and teacups were kept in the kitchen before she left to sweep the terrace. I turned on the chai percolator and arranged the tray. Nabila wiped down the countertop next to the sink. Fatima swept up crumbs from the floor while her father stored chopped vegetables in the refrigerator.

As I waited for the water to heat, I looked out the window. With Jawad Sahib gone, the servants were relaxed and our verandah was busy. Toqir, the elderly servant who dusted and swept the main level of the estate, rested on a charpai. Shagufta sat on a bench and chatted with another cleaning girl. The gardener was still holding a clipper in one hand as he was drinking tea and chatting with a few other men.

When the chai was ready, I poured it into a porcelain cup etched with hummingbirds. Fatima tugged at my kamiz. “You want to try some?”

“Try what?” I asked.

“The chai,” Fatima said. “I can get you a cup from the other cupboard.”

“I don’t think I’m allowed.”

“If they don’t find out, then it’s not wrong. That’s what Nabila always says. She sneaks things all the time!”

“Hush!” Nabila glowered at the girl.

Fatima reddened and hurried to the back of the kitchen.

“She’s just a kid,” I told Nabila. “She didn’t mean anything by it.”

“You don’t get to come here for a day and tell me what she did or didn’t mean.”

I wanted to ask her what her problem was, but I bit my tongue. She could hate me for whatever reason she wanted, I thought. My father was collecting money for me at this very moment, and soon enough, I’d be gone.

Mumtaz hadn’t mentioned how much sugar Nasreen Baji took, so to be safe, I placed five sugar cubes in a crystal bowl and set it on the tray.

“What are you doing?” Nabila frowned at my tray. “Why aren’t you using the proper breakfast tray?”

“Proper breakfast tray? I got this one from the drawer Mumtaz showed me.”

“There’s more than one drawer.” She smirked and pointed to a cabinet under the sink. “She uses the pink one with the gold trim for breakfast. Always has.”

I walked over to the sink and leaned down to open the cupboard and sift through the fancy plates and serving dishes. I craned my neck. There were no trays. Would Nasreen Baji be angry if I served her breakfast on the wrong one?

When I walked back to the counter, the tray I’d prepared was missing.

“She took it.” Fatima sat cross-legged, peeling potatoes. “She took it,” she repeated. “Probably went to Nasreen Baji herself.”

I rushed down the hall and up the stairs into Nasreen Baji’s bedroom. Nabila stood in front of Nasreen Baji holding the tray in her hands.

“I’m sorry.” Nabila’s voice shook. “I wanted to make sure you had it exactly the way you liked it.”

“But you’re not my maidservant anymore, Nabila. You understand that, don’t you?”

She looked down at the ground and nodded.

“Go on now and check with Mumtaz to see what needs to be done in the kitchen.”

Nabila set down the tray on the nightstand by the bed and rushed past me. Her elbow bumped sharply into me. I walked over to Nasreen Baji and mixed in her sugar—two cubes, she told me. Like my mother.

“I’ll make it with the right amount of sugar next time.” I handed her the cup. “And I’m sorry about the tray. I should have paid better attention.”

“Nabila is having a difficult time adjusting to the new situation.” Nasreen Baji took a sip of tea. “She was my maidservant before you came.”

“She was? But why did you replace her with me?” I blurted out.

“Nabila is a good girl, but she just made too many mistakes. The timing of your arrival was perfect. I was planning to replace her anyway.”

I carried the tray back down the stairs to the kitchen and thought about Nabila. It was clear she despised me almost since the moment I arrived. But it made sense now. My life had changed overnight—and hers had, too.