The Major was sure that Amina had told George the truth when she said she had no money. He was certain she could not afford a taxi. With great reluctance, tinged with curiosity, he put the cozy on the pot and fetched his coat. He would have to at least offer to drive the pair back to town.

Through the distortion of the plate glass window he could see Mrs. Ali leaning against the counter as if she were slightly faint. Her nephew stood rigid, which was hardly unusual, but he was staring past the Major’s shoulder at some distant point outside the window. Amina looked down at her bright crimson boots, her shoulders sunk into an old woman’s hunch that telegraphed defeat. This was no job interview. The Major was just thinking about sneaking away again when he was accosted by a loud voice.

“Major, yoo-hoo!” He turned around and was greeted with the sight of Daisy, Alma, Grace, and Lord Dagenham’s niece, Gertrude, crammed into Daisy’s Mercedes with so many overstuffed and billowing bags and packages that they looked like four china figurines packed in a gift box. “So happy to have spotted you, you’re just the man we wanted to see,” added Daisy, as the four ladies did their best to emerge from the car without spilling their purchases into the street. It was not the most dignified scene. The Major held the car door for Alma and tried not to look at her plump knees as he bent to rescue a large yellow satin turban that had almost tumbled into a puddle.

“I see Alec is all taken care of,” he said.

“I’m so glad we spotted you,” repeated Daisy. “We couldn’t wait to tell you all about the exciting new plan we came up with,”

“It involves you!” said Alma, as if the Major should feel pleased.

“Major, we have been debating whether our folk dancing was enough to set the theme of our evening,” said Daisy. “Then this morning, while we were breakfasting at Lord Dagenham’s, we came up with a delightful proposition.”

“It was a lovely breakfast, Gertrude,” said Alma to the niece. “Such a delightful start to the day.”

“Thank you,” said Gertrude. “I’m more used to grabbing a bacon sandwich in the stables than entertaining other ladies. I’m so sorry about the kippers.”

“Nonsense,” said Alma. “Quite my own fault for gobbling them up so fast.”

“I was standing by to attempt the Heimlich, but I’m more experienced with horse choke.”

“Ladies, ladies,” said Daisy. “If we could stay on point?” She paused for effect. “We’ve settled on a series of scenes—very tasteful—and we were discussing how to make them relevant.”

“Oh, you tell him, Grace—it was partly your idea,” added Alma.

“Oh, no, no,” said Grace. She stood a little apart, shifting slightly from foot to foot. The Major found this nervous fretting irritating in an otherwise sensible woman. “We were just talking about local connections to India and I happened to mention your father. I didn’t mean to suggest anything.”

“My father?” asked the Major.

“If I might explain,” said Daisy, quelling Grace with a lifted eyebrow. “We were reminded of the story of your father and his brave service to the Maharajah. We’ve decided to do it in three or four scenes. It’ll be the perfect core of our entertainment.”

“No, no, no,” the Major said. He felt quite faint at the idea. “My father was in India in the thirties and early forties.”

“Yes?” said Daisy.

“The Mughal Empire died out around 1750,” said the Major, his exasperation overcoming his politeness. “So you see it doesn’t go at all.”

“Well, it’s all the same thing,” said Daisy. “It’s all India, isn’t it?”

“But it’s not the same at all,” said the Major. “The Mughals—that’s Shah Jehan and the Taj Mahal. My father served at Partition. That’s the end of the English in India.”

“So much the better,” said Daisy. “We’ll just change ‘Mughal’ to ‘Maharajah’ and celebrate how we gave India and Pakistan their independence. Dawn of a new era and all that. I think it’s the only sensitive option.”

“That would solve the costume problem for a lot of people,” said Alma. “I was trying to tell Hugh Whetstone that pith helmets weren’t fully developed until the nineteenth century, but he didn’t want to hear it. If we add an element of ‘Last Days,’ they can wear their ‘Charles Dickens’ summer dresses if they prefer.”

“Though ‘Last Days’ is what got us in trouble last year,” ventured Grace.

“We needn’t be so specific,” snapped Alma.

“Partition was 1947,” said the Major. “People wore uniforms and short frocks.”

“We’re not trying to be rigidly historical, Major,” said Daisy. “Now I understand you do have possession of your father’s guns? And what about some kind of dress uniform? I understand he was at least a colonel, wasn’t he?”

“We’ll need to find someone younger than you, Major, to play him, of course,” said Alma. “And we’ll need some men to play the murderous mob.”

“Maybe Roger, your son, would do it?” said Gertrude. “That would be very appropriate.”

“To be a murderous mob?” asked the Major.

“No, to be the Colonel, of course,” said Gertrude.

“I’m sure the lunch girls have a few murderous-looking boyfriends between them to be our mob,” said Daisy.

“My father was a very private man,” said the Major. He almost stammered under the sense that all around him were losing their reason. That the ladies could imagine that he or Roger would consent to appear in any sort of theatrical was beyond comprehension.

“My father thinks it’s a wonderful story,” added Gertrude. “He wants to present you with some kind of silver plate at the end of the evening’s speeches. Recognition of the Pettigrews’ proud history, and so on. He’ll be so disappointed if I have to tell him you declined his honor.” She looked at him with wide eyes and he noticed she held her cell phone ready as if to call on a moment’s notice. The Major fumbled for words.

“Perhaps we should give the Major some time to absorb the idea,” said Grace, speaking up. Her feet ceased to move and became planted as she defended him. “It’s rather a big honor, after all.”

“Quite right, quite right,” said Daisy. “We’ll say no more right now, Major.” She looked at the windows of the shop and waved at Mrs. Ali inside. “Let’s go in and secure Mrs. Ali’s help for the dance, shall we, ladies?”

“Why, that’s Amina, the girl who’s teaching our waitresses to dance,” said Gertrude also looking in the window. “I wonder what on earth she’s doing here in Edgecombe.”

“Oh, it’s a small community,” said Alma with the sweeping certainty reserved for the ignorant. “They’re all related in some way or another.”

“Perhaps now is not the best time,” said the Major, anxious to spare Mrs. Ali an assault by the ladies. “I believe they have business together.”

“It’s the perfect opportunity to speak to both of them,” said Daisy. “Everybody in, in, in!” The Major was obliged to hold the door open and found himself herded inside the shop along with the ladies. It was a tight squeeze around the counter area, and the Major found himself standing so close to Mrs. Ali that it was difficult to raise his hat.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I could not dissuade them from coming in.”

“Those that will come, will come,” she said in a tired voice. “It is not in our power to prevent them.” She looked at Amina, to whom Daisy was talking.

“What luck that you are here as well,” said Daisy. “How is the dancing coming along?”

“Considering they all have two left feet and no sense of rhythm, it was going quite well,” said Amina. “But I don’t think your club manager will be letting me back in anytime soon.”

“You mean the secretary?” said Gertrude. “Yes, he was quite apoplectic on the phone.” She stopped to chuckle. “But don’t you worry about the little man. I told him he must have more patience, considering your unfortunate circumstances and our pressing need for your talent.”

“My circumstances?” said Amina.

“You know, single mother and all that,” said Gertrude. “Afraid I laid it on a bit thick but we do hope you’ll carry on. I think we can approve a little more money, given the bigger scope of the project.”

“You’re dancing for money?” asked Mrs. Ali’s nephew.

“I’m only teaching a few routines,” she said. “You mustn’t think of it as dancing.” He said no more, but his scowl deepened, and the Major marveled anew at the way so many people were willing to spend time and energy on the adverse judgment of others.