Page 124 of The Secrets of the Tea Garden
CHAPTER 24
The days of waiting to hear from Sam were some of the most painful Adela could remember. She was still beset with anxious thoughts about John Wesley’s fate, though she tried hard to put them from her mind. This mental struggle – and desperate worry over Sam – left her in turmoil. Josey and Tilly tried to distract her with a trip to the theatre and a game of tennis with Mungo and some of his university friends. But Adela found the only relief came from working hard in the café and distracting her mind from thoughts of her collapsing marriage.
It was Lexy who she confided in the most about her innermost feelings, dear Lexy who had been her anchor in her times of trouble. And it was while talking to Lexy, late one evening after work, that Adela began to formulate a plan.
At the end of the week, Tilly took a call from Sam to say that he was back in Cullercoats and wished to speak to Adela. Rather than ringing him back, Adela sent a note asking him to meet her at the café after closing on Saturday evening.
With Doreen and Freda’s help, and Lexy giving out instructions from a chair, Adela prepared a mutton curry and set a table behind a screen of potted plants with a fresh tablecloth and sweet peas from theallotment. Adela carried down the old gramophone player from Lexy’s flat and borrowed a selection of Josey’s records with songs that her old trio, the Toodle Pips, had once sung. Then Adela changed into a red evening dress that she’d bought in Calcutta and applied rouge to her sallow cheeks and lipstick to her pale lips.
She paced anxiously around the café, checking the clock, unable to sit still.
‘What if he doesn’t come?’ she fretted.
‘He’ll come,’ said Lexy. ‘Sit down before you wear out the floor.’
But Adela couldn’t settle. Only when Doreen dashed in from the kitchen to say he was coming across the backyard did Adela go behind the screen.
She heard Sam talking to Doreen in the kitchen, a note of surprise in his voice.
‘Just go in the café, MrJackman,’ Doreen urged.
The door swung open. Adela could see Sam in profile from her half-hidden position behind the plants. Heart hammering, she wound up the gramophone and lifted the needle on to the record. The jaunty song that had been the Toodle Pips’ signature tune, ‘Don’t Sit Under the Apple Tree’, began to play.
‘Here you are, bonny lad,’ said Lexy, rising stiffly to her feet and pointing to a jug of homemade juice. ‘Help yourself to Nimby-pimby or whatever daft name you give lemonade in India.’
‘Nimbu pani,’ said Adela, stepping out from the corner with a nervous smile.
Sam stared at her, his mouth dropping open in astonishment. He was dressed in an old cricket shirt and grey flannel trousers with no jacket. His head was bare of his usual hat and his hair looked unkempt. With a pang of guilt, she noticed how gaunt his face was, his hazel eyes smudged with fatigue.
‘I-I didn’t realise ...’ he began but his words petered out.
As Lexy hobbled from the room, Adela went forward and poured them both glasses of the iced drink. She handed him one with a shaking hand.
‘I want to say sorry, Sam,’ she said quickly. ‘Truly sorry for the way I’ve been treating you – for making you so unhappy.’
‘Adela—’
‘Don’t say anything yet,’ she stopped him. ‘I know you’re planning to go abroad without me. I don’t blame you. But I want us to try and patch things up – have a meal together – and then talk things over. Please, can we do that?’
Sam nodded. She could see the tension in his jaw and the muscle working in his cheek as he struggled with some emotion. Was it anger or regret that it was all too late? She gulped down her drink and led him over to the table set for dinner. As Doreen emerged with a tray laden with plates of curry and potato, Adela put on another record: ‘A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square’.
‘We’ll be off now,’ Doreen said with a nod to Sam and a swift encouraging smile to Adela.
‘Thank you,’ Adela replied with a grateful look.
Adela sat down at the table opposite Sam. Her stomach was so churned up she didn’t think she could eat a mouthful.
‘Do you remember when I sang this at the army base in Imphal?’ she asked.
He gave her a wistful smile. ‘Of course I do.’
‘And then I sang “You’ll Never Know How Much I Love You”?’
He nodded, holding her look. He hadn’t touched his food either.
‘I sang that especially for you, Sam,’ she said. ‘I thought I might never get the chance to say how I felt about you, so I sang it in that song.’
Sam gave her a baffled look. ‘Adela, tell me what’s going on here. Are you buttering me up for something? Are you about to tell me you’ve found your son?’
