Page 11 of The Secrets of the Tea Garden
‘And of course you’ve got your own mother in Cullercoats, Sam,’ said Tilly. ‘You’ll be longing to see her again after all this time.’
Libby thought she saw Sam wince but he forced a smile. ‘My adoptive mother,’ he corrected. ‘Yes, I intend to visit MrsJackman.’
Adela squeezed her husband’s hand. ‘Sam will do that in his own time. It’s so kind of you to let us stay here, Tilly. We’re very grateful and we won’t overstay our welcome. As soon as we find a place of our own—’
Tilly cut her off. ‘You’ll stay as long as you want. Libby’s already moved up into the attic so you can have the double bed.’
Adela protested. ‘We mustn’t turf Libby out of her own room!’
‘She doesn’t mind,’ said Tilly. ‘And you love birds need it more than she does.’
Libby rolled her eyes at Adela. ‘Sorry about Mother. And I’m more than happy for you to have the back bedroom. It’s just wonderful to see you again.’
Adela laughed, her green eyes full of merriment. ‘It’s so good to see you all too. I’ve missed the Robson banter.’
‘And we’ve missed you more than we can say, dear girl,’ said Tilly, her deep-set hazel eyes glistening with sudden tears. ‘You’ve always been like another daughter to me.’
Libby’s heart squeezed. Her mother had never hidden her preference for Adela, even though she was not even a blood relation of Tilly’s. It was through their Robson fathers – James and Wesley were first cousins – that Libby and Adela were cousins. But Libby had always adored her older cousin; she was not only a glamorous entertainer who had performed for the troops during the War but was warm-hearted and good fun. Libby could never resent Adela, yet it pained her that nothing she, Libby, did had ever seemed to please her mother. Long ago, she had given up trying to win Tilly’s approval.
‘So did you bring any messages from India?’ Libby asked in hope. She squirmed at the look of pity that flitted across Adela’s pretty face.
‘Your father sends his love,’ she said.
‘But no letter?’
‘He sent tea,’ Sam said. ‘Didn’t he, darling?’
‘Yes, of course.’ Adela got up.
‘Don’t worry about that now,’ said Tilly. ‘I want to hear all about your passage home. Did you throw your sola topees into the sea after Suez?’
Adela laughed, fondly touching Libby’s tangled hair before making for the door. ‘We did. The sea was littered with them. The boat was jam-packed. We were lucky to get a billet.’
‘Everyone bailing out of India,’ said Tilly, with a glance at Libby. ‘I’m not surprised with all the violence going on.’
Adela dashed into the hallway and came back carrying a large lacquered box which she placed on a low inlaid Indian table.
‘I remember that!’ Libby grinned. ‘Auntie Clarrie kept her letters in it so they didn’t go mouldy in the monsoon.’
‘Fancy you remembering,’ said Adela.
‘Of course I do.’
‘Darling, you were only a small child when you were last there,’ reminded Tilly.
‘All my memories of Belgooree are as clear as photographs,’ Libby insisted.
‘Mother said I could have the box,’ said Adela. ‘I wanted something to remind me of h-home.’
Libby heard the catch in Adela’s throat. She caught Adela’s hand, squeezed it in her own and said, ‘It’s a lovely thing to have.’
Adela’s eyes brimmed with tears and Libby realised how difficult leaving India must have been for her cousin, despite Sam’s assertion they wanted to start anew in Britain.
Sam stood up swiftly and unlatched the box. ‘I’ll make us some tea.’
Tilly shrieked. ‘Certainly not! You’re our guest and a man. Sit down, Sam.’
‘I’ll make it with him,’ said Libby, aware that Sam needed something to do. She could sense the pent-up energy in his lanky frame. He must be approaching forty but, from what she’d heard, he was a man who still relished the outdoors. Before being a pilot, he’d once been a river captain and then become an itinerant missionary, planting orchards in the Himalayan foothills.
