Chapter Thirteen
Anya
It had only been seven months but, to her, it seemed a lifetime ago; the sights and sounds of Calcutta no more now than distant memories – and pretty depressing ones at that. Recollection made all the easier to jettison given its dispiriting nature. Any intention she might have entertained to create a database of a fonder and more recent variety; at least in the near future; non-existent – even if taking up a position in England had been a massive step for a young Indian girl of minimal education and deprived background.
But then, what was there to keep her in Calcutta she gave a fig about?
The cramped room she rented above a sweatshop?
The family she neither had nor wanted?
The friends she had yet to make and couldn’t locate interest enough to try – not to ment
