Chapter Text
In the earliest and most vulnerable years of his childhood, Adil had learned the concept of acceptance. It was the willingness to adapt to a situation that was not necessarily to one’s own satisfaction. Society had taught him this lesson by spitting at his feet, sitting as far away from him in the underground as possible, calling him names like “pickaninny”, “chee-chee” or “interloper” in order to point out his external distinction and to show their disapproval of someone so different living amongst them. This was the contrary of acceptance, it was ignorance. Adil was aware of how they felt. And he quietly acknowledged the fact that the majority of them would never acknowledge him. Not because he was a coward but for the greater good. More precisely, for the greatest good he had: His family. Adil worshipped his parents and his six years elder sister. They had never come to feel at home in Britain yet had moved to Manchester in late 1920 when Adil had only been a few months old because they never wanted their infant son to experience the hard, perspectiveless life in India as they had.
“I would do it all over again in a heartbeat.”, his mother once had said, tousling little ten-year-old Adil’s hair and watching him lovingly.
“For my son to have a promising, self-determined future, no sacrifice is too big.”
Because that was it. A sacrifice out of love. Little ten-year-old Adil with tousled hair understood. And he saw that it was now on him to show his family that it did not have to be a sacrifice, that there was a safe and stable existence for all of them in Britain if he just worked hard for it. On this account, he worked hard, he fought through, he stayed strong. He never lost sight of reality which did not look too bright for his kind, but he kept his resolve in mind whenever he was confronted with discrimination and prejudice on the basis of his race. And he promised himself, that he would never risk what he had built up over some ignorance.
Finding a job in London was unexpectedly easy. Indeed, none of these positions were well-paid and since pretty much all of his employers and colleagues felt repulsed by Adil’s origins as well as automatically underestimated him and his abilities, they automatically assumed that he could be used as a cheap labor force without him noticing. Adil did notice but did not object. On the contrary, he led them to believe that he was as dense and inferior as they wanted him to be. It earned him a lot of pointed remarks and jokes at his expense, but Adil did not care about their opinion, he simply was not keen on attracting jealousy, offended pride and the urge to put obstacles in his way.
So, he had to play the part; which meant head down, act discreet and do not talk back. Follow the rules and supress all thoughts of rebellion. He did not intend to stay at these places for too long anyway, so he was not about making an impression and competitiveness rather than going quietly about his business, gaining knowledge and experience, biding his time and waiting for the right opportunity to strike.
All these years of pretending shaped him into a very even-tempered, patient, self-controlled but also a very reserved person. It was an act Adil had perfected so well through his early life, no longer was it just a facade that hid his true persona. It was an armor, a wall that shielded his heart from being too affected by cruel words or gestures, but also kept every new person in his life from entering it, even those who might had been worth the risk. Trapped in a system of balancing in between distance and proximity, looking over his shoulder, strategizing every move and fearing the consequences of a wrong word, Adil never got rid of this underlying feeling of constant discomfort and instability.
He did not show it outwardly, of course. It only would have made him appear weak. And Adil could not afford weakness.
~*~
Adil’s “strategy” reached its peak in summer 1935 when he was hired at the Halcyon at the tender age of fifteen. Before, he had been employed in several pubs and bars and had developed quite some skills in mixing drinks as well as a large knowledge of drink recipes, but Mr Garland only gave him a job in the kitchen, stating that Lord Hamilton would find it inappropriate to have his cocktails made by a someone who was still considered a child.
He did not mention anything of the fact that his Lordship and the other members of the upper class would probably smash every glass Adil had touched to the floor or stare at their drink as if it was poisoned. Adil played along for Mr Garland’s sake. He could only speculate about how much persuasion it must have cost the hotel manager, so he, the lowly Indian schoolboy, would receive a permanent job at this prestigious hotel. He also understood that this man, who had a daughter in Adil’s age, most likely wanted to spare him the bitter taste of high society’s unconcealed, shameless intolerance. And Adil was proper grateful for that thoughtful intention, although it was not necessary. Meeting Mr Garland had improved his picture of the British, in a good way. That there were English people - perhaps not among the aristocrats but rational, liberal citizens - who did not prejudge him, who were willing to give him a chance, who saw him as an equal. It gave him hope that during his lifetime, an epoch would arise in which nobody would be disadvantaged for who they were. In which he did not have to hide his alterity, external as well as internal, and be true to how he felt.
And maybe, if he let his greatest fantasies carry him along far enough… find someone who felt the same.
~*~
The head chef had made it clear from the start that he was the boss in the kitchen and that he called the shots. In some way, he was no different than the noblemen and women. He did not want to see Adil in the kitchen, or worse, to “meddle in his affairs”. So Adil had got assigned to take the rubbish out, to sweep the entrance area, to stowage all deliveries by himself etcetera. He did as he was told, accepted the invidious treatment once again. Sure, he had his not so great moments, cursing the long hours outdoors, especially as summer went to autumn, but then again, Adil had to think about not wanting to disappoint his family or Mr Garland and held onto his hope for change. His time would come, he was sure of it.
Besides, Adil discovered that working in the backyard did have a positive aspect. When summer went to autumn, something caught his eye. Or rather someone. A boy, about the same age, who passed by the hotel on the other side of the street day after day at half past five, walking hurriedly and not paying much attention to his surroundings. He did not stand out from any other face Adil saw passing by, except that his face was always hidden in a large heavy book. It was a different book every time, but they were all large, heavy and the boy seemed very absorbed in its content. Adil did not know who he was nor where he always went. And yet - strangely – he wanted to. Every time he saw the thin boy with pale skin and brown curls, he wondered who he was, whether the books he read excited or scared him. The wish to just once see an expression on his face became increasingly special to Adil and quickly turned into disappointment when the illiteracy stayed all the same.
But one day was different. Adil was occupied with raking the fallen leaves aside of the back entrance. It was a chilly day, the temperature dropped continuously and the wind blew even harder than usual, making Adil’s task quite a challenge. But his concentration was not on work anyhow. From the corner of his eye, he noticed a middle-aged woman, homeless he presumed, sitting slumped up against a building across the street. She was wearing thin clothes and was shaking with cold. Adil took pity on her, as he had seen a lot of people in London sharing the same destiny. The destiny that was the everyday life of thousands of people in India, that could have been his had his family not moved to Britain and had he not found this employment.
All of a sudden, a car drove into Adil’s field of vision which came to a jerking halt. The car door opened and a familiar mop of curly hair emerged. Cautiously, he went towards the woman, who was shivering uncontrollably and made whimpering sounds, and took off his coat. Then he turned around and Adil got a glimpse on his face for the first time.
The boy did not notice him though. He knelt down in front of the woman and held out the coat to her. Slowly, she wrapped it around he shoulders and muttered something that Adil could not understand due to the ambient noises but appeared as a thank you. The boy did not respond. Instead, a smile spread across his face.
It was tiny, a small movement of the boy’s mouth angles going upwards. It seemed more like an attempt to smile, as if he was waiting to be given permission. And still, there was so much genuine kindness and gentleness shining on his lips as well as in his soft hazel eyes that Adil could feel it just by watching in secret. A warmth blossomed in his chest, he was completely mesmerized by the good-heartedness Adil could feel in every fibre of his being.
The impatient chauffeur sounded the horn loudly, causing the boy to whirl around in surprise and Adil to almost drop the rake. Hastily, the adolescent jumped on the backseat and the car raced out of Adil’s sight.
~*~
After that, many months went by. Adil’s everyday life at the Halcyon stayed the same, but he never saw the mysterious boy again. At the beginning, he still watched out for dark curls and huge books, even dared to leave work in order to inconsciously lie in wait at the hotel’s wall whenever the clock struck half past six. At one point, he gave up and resigned himself to his dull work routine which held no excitement for him anymore.
On New Year’s Eve 1935, Adil’s fate took an unexpected turn. The Halcyon was hosting a lavish party, the lounge and the bar were full. For once, Adil’s presence in the kitchen was actually tolerated since they needed every workforce available. The stress level increased in the course of the evening and reached its peak when the dinner service was stalling.
“What the hell is going on out there?!”, the head chef yelled at one of the servants who came into the kitchen, completely out of patience, which very little by itself.
“There are some important business partners of Lord Hamilton’s outside and they want to be served a ‘Vieux Carré’ by all means.”
This name rang a bell with Adil. He looked up from the carrot he was cutting and carefully studied the other employee’s facial expressions, surprised to discover nothing but confusion.
“What’s a ‘Vieux Carré’?”, Robbie asked.
“That’s the exact problem!”, the servant panicked.
“None of the bartenders have ever heard of this drink, let alone how to make it!”
The kitchen door swung open and Mr Garland barged in, his otherwise professional face marked by a deep frown of sorrow.
“His Lordship is not pleased by the way his guests’ requests have been handled. We must find a solution immediately, research this drink and its origins as quickly as possible-”
“It’s a brand-new cocktail from New Orleans, contains cognac, rey whiskey, sweet vermouth, bénédictine liqueur…”
The room went silent while the words just came out of Adil’s mouth, he saw each hand movement in his mind’s eye and his fingers tingled at the memory of handling colourful liquids, a cocktail shaker and several other bar equipment.
“You know the drink?”, Robbie enquired, mildly astounded.
“Get me the ingredients and we can serve the gentlemen their drinks in a couple of minutes.”, Adil replied, cautiously.
The head chef looked like he wanted to chop Adil’s head off for even entertaining the thought of doing something beyond his commands but under Mr Garland’s watch, he restrained himself. The latter paused for a moment, taking in the critical situation. Eventually, he sighed and said: “The kitchen will have to spare Mr Joshi for a bit.”, and addressed to Adil, “Come with me. I’ll fetch everything you need.”
Whether it was the lack of other options or Mr Garland’s characteristic to place faith where others only felt distrust that drove him to stake all on Adil’s promises without ever having seen or tasted a cocktail made by the young boy and risk to get all of Lord Hamilton’s anger if Adil had failed stayed a mystery to him until the present day. Or perhaps he was just more of a daredevil than Adil had given him credit for.
Of course, after the last drink was mixed, Adil was immediately dragged back into the kitchen, for and ordered to clean up the kitchen all by himself as a punishment. Adil took it without turning an eyelid, because while scrubbing dirt from the floor, he could hear a slightly buzzed Lord Hamilton yelling “Richard, if the bar is capable of creating stuff like this out of nothing, why am I still served the same old swill every day!” and later that night, when he was finishing up, Mr Garland approached him with the offer of a probationary employment at the bar.
“It won’t be easy, Adil.”, the hotel manager warned him emphatically.
“I can see that you’re gifted, but managing a bar in a hotel of this magnitude makes other demands than the establishments you’ve experienced. There is a reputation to uphold, the maintenance at the bar is comparable with a business card. At peak hours, you’ll have to provide high quality service to over fifty customers in a very tight time frame but carry out all tasks with attention to detail, cleanliness and safety. Stress is commonplace, there needs to be clear organization, structure and communication between the barmen whereas you need to ensure that the guests can enjoy a relaxed ambience…”
Adil found it very hard to listen carefully because of the excitement spreading through him. There it was. His time had come. The right opportunity had arrived. And Adil seized it with both hands, more than eager to prove himself. Naturally, he did not let his giddiness take over and kept a straight face nodded in agreement, maintaining the attitude he knew would be even more crucial in his new position.
~*~
Everything went faster than Adil had expected: Over the course of just one week of his trial period, Adil had memorized all drink recipes of the bar menu and even added some new lesser known ones to the list which where highly praised by the customers. Due to his interaction with the upper class, Adil managed to create classic and innovative drinks in accordance to the guests’ needs. Even Lord Hamilton seemed so pleased with the taste of his cocktails that he forgot that they were mixed by an Indian teenage boy.
Suddenly, what had been so hard became so easy. Adil had found a place to stay, a profession he was passionate about. He received a fair salary, high enough to provide for his family, pay his rent and there was even something left to put by every month. Adil’s life truly turned to good account. He lived every day to its fullest, completely absorbed by his change of environment, unable to imagine spending his remaining years anywhere else. Soon, he hardly remembered what his prospects in the world of work used to look like. All hardships and memories of injustice vanished.
For the first time in Adil’s life, everything was perfect. He did not wish for anything else.
Or at least, that was what he told himself.
Because try as he might, Adil could not erase the crystal clear picture of this cordial smile in his head.
Though, admittedly, Adil did not actually try too hard.