Chapter 3: Some Yesterdays Always Remain

Friday rolled round again and I had been working at The White Tiger for a week, and I still hadn't been let loose on the customers. But unlike my first week, my three-thirty Economics lecture did not run over (for the first time in forever) and I had time to do my hair and hurry down some Thai fish cakes (twenty minutes in the oven, courtesy of Morrison's) and French beans before leaving for work.

When I reached the restaurant, I was surprised to see that my two co-workers had got there before me. In the week since my first shift I had learnt two things about them: Their names were Rani and Gaurav, and they were never, ever early. They always seemed to arrive on time, just by the skin of their teeth. (My personal theory was that they were in a couple in a secret romantic, forbidden relationship, because they were promised to other people, - until Priya told me that Rani was a single mother who had problems finding childcare and Gaurav had Architecture classes that ran late at the other college in town, De Montfort University). Both of them had this worried, strained look on their faces and were having an urgent conference with Priya over the front desk. They fell silent, when I came in.

"Hi guys!" I said, as if I hadn't noticed anything wrong, and breezed past them into the office to dump my stuff and change into the black court-heels I wore for work. I hesitated longer at the door than was strictly necessary.

"Please don't be so superstitious guys, we've made it this far." Priya pleaded in a hurried undertone. "Have a little faith in us and we'll make it through together."

"It happens every time, Priya. Every time." Gaurav snapped, his worry overcoming his sense.

"Don't you see, Gaurav?" Demanded Priya. "Believing in the thing thing will make it so."

"But Maya and Karen -" He began counter.

"Maya and Karen believed, and now they're gone. It came to pass because they chose for it to be so." The manager countered with no small level of contempt.

"But still," I heard Rani's quieter voice reason. "A thing which comes to pass, still comes to pass – no matter how it does."

I heard Priya sigh. When she spoke again she sounded both much calmer and much kinder:

"I know it's hard for you. Both of you. But keep faith with us and we'll keep faith with you."

Silence. I counted to thirty before breezing out as though the tension in the room wasn't smothering.

"Everyone okay?" I asked casually, flipping open a menu as if I was doing some last minute revision.

"Yeah, fine," Rani eventually said with a smile so forced you would think I had a gun to her head.

"Your silver tiger will be here in a minute," Priya grinned at me. I winced and hid my blushing face in my hands. Apparently, my 3 AM slip was so amusing and/or gratifying that Kadam had been proudly sharing his new moniker with everyone.

"I'm never going to be allowed to forget that, am I?" I asked as I watched Gaurav and Rani go into the office to stow their things.

"Not as long as I have breath in my body."

"Oh. Good to know. Would you like me to arrange that for you sooner, or later?"

She laughed and told me to get to work.

I was folding napkins at one of the tables before service, when I called Priya over – as if to check my work.

"This is perfect, what do you need me for?" She asked.

"Priya," I murmured to her. "What happens "every time?""

Her perfect golden cinnamon skin seemed to blanch a moment. Within moments she had regained her composure.

"So, you heard?"

"Every word." I confirmed.

She sighed. It was the despondent, frustrated sigh of a soufflé collapsing.

"Tell me, Kelsey." Priya said with a pinch of her nose. "How long have you lived in Leicester?"

"Nearly three years, but I still see my family on the south coast during the holidays and summer vacation." Now seemed as good a time as any to tell her I couldn't work Christmas.

"So, you know nothing of the curse of The White Tiger?"

"No." I raised my eyebrows. "Did you build it on an ancient Indian burial ground?" Almost as soon as the words left my mouth, I realised how dumb using "Indian" was in this place, to this person was.

"Not exactly." Luckily she didn't seem to notice. Or care. "The White Tiger is something of a Leicester institution, it's been here since the first major wave of Indian migrants in the 1940's. When the original owner died ten years ago, he left it to both of his sons; two years later the business imploded over some nonsense with a girl between them. It was then sold to a couple called Patel, - two years later they were bitterly divorced and the restaurant was sold again. Then it was a trendy Indian tapas place owned by some young, bright thing. Two years later, he sold up for all the money he could. After him, it was a restaurant again. Until someone found things which would give Gordon Ramsey nightmares in the freezer. So it was sold again. To my uncle. Two years ago."

"And Rani and Gaurav are worried for their jobs?" I supplied.

"Exactly. Especially now that Maya and Karen have given in their notice. Apparently they said that anyone with any sense would get out while they still could."

"This is some serious Scooby-Doo stuff going on here!"

"Well, if a someone dressed as the White Tiger Man turns up I'll start looking for hidden gold mines in the basement!"

Our laughter was interrupted by a melodious voice from the door:

"There is only one tiger here, and he is silver!" You could hear the grin in Kadam's voice as he walked over to us. "Maybe I should change the name of the restaurant to The Silver Tiger? That would stop all this Polish chit-chat about a curse, for sure."

Oh, for a hole to crawl into and die in. Or a hole which, in fact, turned out to be a tandoori oven. Because a long, slow, burning death among skewered meat was preferable to my embarrassment at that moment. Stupid hot boss. Wait, wha-?!

Before I could pursue that thought any further, Kadam had clapped me on the shoulder.

"Brave heart, Kelsey. You shan't be rid of me so easily yet."

"Damn." I said with a smile. He returned it. Freely. I couldn't help but notice that he waited just that second too long to let go of my shoulder. Priya looked at us with this strange smile affixed to her face. As if something had been confirmed and she approved. A lot.

"So, Young American." Kadam cleared his throat. "Tonight we shall initiate you into the mysteries of the bar..."

That shift was a night of revelations. True to his word, Kadam showed me how the bar worked – getting Priya to man the front desk. It went pretty well. Even if I refused to believe that salty lime juice was a thing. Lime and sugar syrup, yeah I could get behind that – but who the hell willingly drinks saltwater?! He rolled his eyes and told me just to make the damn thing like he told me to. As soon as the thing was made, instead of testing it – like I thought he would – he disappeared into the kitchen. I waited. And waited. I did some drinks orders. I told Rani that I could give her the number of one of my friends, if she was having trouble finding childcare. She told me she'd probably take me up on the offer, once service had ended. And I waited some more.

Eventually, Kadam emerged from the kitchen cradling something in his hand.

"Open wide," he ordered.

Unthinkingly I did so and he popped something into my mouth. Tangy, sour and spicy pickled lime chutney mingled on my tongue with the crispy texture of a piece of poppadom. It was very good. And very hot. My tongue was burning.

"Drink this," he ordered me again, pushing the salty lime juice towards me.

It was less salty than I thought it would be. The balance of salt, lime and water seemed to blend harmoniously with the spices on my tongue, whilst wiping away the heat.

"Refreshing, isn't it?"He said with a smile that knew he had been proven right. "Although you shouldn't drink too many of those in one go."

"Yeah, osmosis – we covered it in High School." I may not know about salty lime juice and the entire geopolitical history of India, but there are some things I do know and Science definitely falls under those!

Kadam raised his eyebrows sardonically:

"But they didn't tell you not to open your mouth when just anyone told you to. Who knows what someone might pop in the there one day?"

A horrible, awful, and extremely awkward moment passed as we both realised what had just potentially been said. God knows what the customers thought as a tall, older Indian man and younger brunette white girl with a face the colour of a beet stood stupefied and staring at each other in shock behind the bar.

"I'm going to go and mingle," Kadam said suddenly.

"You do that." I agreed. He disappeared very quickly.

Later that night, a large group of younger and older Indian men came in and sat down. They were no noisier than any normal table of that size. They were conversing loudly in one of the Indian languages (I knew there were different ones by this point, but I had no clue how to differentiate). I did their drink order and Gaurav took it over. It was only when Kadam went over to ask them how they were enjoying things, if they were being served etc. that all broke loose.

All of a sudden, they were very excited and smiling – grinning like idiots, in fact – and their voices had shifted a semi-tone up in their joy. I could distinguish the words "Anik Kadam" being said a lot, but that was it. The man himself looked gracious and poised, with an air of a sort of calm and measured pleasure about him. Soon he was signing any scraps of paper the men could get their hands on and taking selfies with some of them. He walked away, waving and smiling, to the next table – apologising for the commotion when he got there. What. The actual. Hell.

I motioned at Priya and gestured towards the table of men in the middle of a collective fangasm.

"Explain. Please."

Priya took one look at my face and nearly laughed aloud.

"My uncle may or may not be one of the biggest Bollywood stars of the last forty years. Perhaps ever."

"Huh?!"

"Yep. Imagine if Humphrey Bogart came over to ask you how your meal was."

"Oh my..."

"He's semi-retired now that he's moved here and has the restaurant to keep him busy, but he still takes the odd role if it looks interesting," she continued proudly. "He stopped making as many films after my mother died and he had to come and look after me, but he has always been in the public eye."

"Your mother..?" I asked momentarily distracted from my boss' apparent superstar status by my friend's grief.

"When I was fourteen." Priya swallowed. "Heart attack. Uncle Anik dropped everything to come and look after me. So he's like a father to me Kelsey – more of a father than the scumbag who left without a word when I was born."

She looked away, clearly distressed. I reached a hand over the bar and rubbed her arm in a what I hoped was a comforting manner. The worst possible thing that I could say now was that I was sorry.

"It's okay," Priya said after a while. "I have Uncle, I have Akash, I have friends. I am blessed." The mantra seemed a well-rehearsed truth.

"Who's Akash?" I asked pleasantly.

"He's my husband!" She waved her wedding ring in front of me. "He's the head chef! It's how we met."

"Wow, I really need to get out back more often."

"Don't worry, it will be fine once you start serving food. You should come round to ours some time, you can watch one of Uncle's films!"

"It's a date!" I agreed enthusiastically.

"Hey, you two – enough with the Polish chit-chat and get back to work," Kadam said to us as he went past.

Before I left that night, Kadam pressed a lunchbox filled with a lentil daal and rice into my hands. He muttered something about doing a good job at the bar, but I wondered if it was his way of apologising and a silent plea not to sue him for sexual harassment.

"Mr Kadam," I said as he began to walk away. He faced me. "You're not "just anyone." I trust you."

He seemed to consider this a moment as something soft seemed to pass over his face.

"Thank you, Kelsey. Good night."

I had reached the door by the time he called after me.

"Kelsey?"

"Yes?"

He paused. He seemed to struggle with what he was going to say, before deciding upon:

"See you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow. Kadam."

The service the day after was fine. Little did I know that Monday's was going to be hell incarnate.


Buh, duh, nuh, nuh. NUUUUUUH! As always, Colleen Houck owns the characters and I own the Indian restaurant sandbox that I happen to be playing in. A big thank you to everyone that's got in touch - you are lovely, lovely ego-soothing individuals. I will get round to showing Kelsaey's life outside of The White Tiger eventually, but until then next chapter: The service from hell, a.k.a. Murphy's Law.