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‘We can eat the curry before it gets cold,’ she said softly, ‘or we can go upstairs.’

He gave her a questioning look.

‘Lexy and Doreen have leant me the flat for the night,’ she explained.

His eyes widened. ‘They have?’

‘Yes,’ said Adela with a smile. ‘So I can seduce you.’

Sam laughed in delighted surprise. ‘I can eat curry cold if you can.’

Hand in hand, they left the tearoom and headed upstairs to the empty flat.

Hours later, after bouts of love-making and lying in each other’s arms talking, Sam and Adela retrieved the plates of cold curry and carried them upstairs. Adela, dressed in an old dressing gown of Lexy’s, reheated the food while Sam stood close, fondling her hair.

‘You look very sexy in that,’ he murmured, stooping to kiss the back of her neck.

Adela laughed. ‘I wouldn’t have bothered with the expensive red dress if I’d known that brown worsted drove you wild.’

Sam slid his arms around her waist and pulled her to him. ‘I find you irresistible whatever you wear.’

She swivelled around and kissed him. ‘Oh, Sam, I’ve missed our silly conversations. I love you so much.’

He answered her with another long lingering kiss.

They wolfed down the curry. Adela realised she hadn’t eaten a proper meal for days. It left her feeling warm and contented – and stirred her desire again.

Sam must have been feeling the same because, as she stood to clear the plates, he stopped her, saying, ‘Let’s leave those till the morning.’

He pulled at the cord of her dressing gown so that the garment fell open. He pushed it from her shoulders and, scooping her up in his arms, carried her back to bed.

At some point during the night they fell asleep. When Adela woke, she saw Sam propped on an elbow gazing at her in the dawn light. They smiled at each other and Adela was filled with tenderness for Sam as well as relief that they still loved one another.

He brought them cups of tea and lit cigarettes. Adela leant against his chest and they talked again about their future and the possibility of leaving Newcastle.

‘I’ve been thinking of writing to my cousin Jane Brewis to see if she might be interested in taking over the café again,’ she said.

‘Your Aunt Olive’s daughter?’ Sam said. ‘The one who used to run the café before the War?’

‘Yes. She was very good at it but she was called up and joined the ATS – ended up in Yorkshire and married a man she met when driving for the catering corps.’

‘But isn’t she settled where she is?’

‘I’m not sure,’ said Adela. ‘That’s why I thought I’d write. We used to correspond with each other a lot but got out of the habit. I know she’s always been a home-bird. Aunt Olive relied on her greatly and I knowshe’d love it if Jane came back to the area.’ Adela looked at Sam. ‘If you’re really serious about wanting to go back to India, then this would be a way of keeping the café running but handing over responsibility.’

‘Is that what you want?’ Sam pressed.

‘I find the café a real chore,’ Adela admitted. ‘And I do miss India. But would it be foolhardy going back when most of the British are leaving?’

‘Your mother and brother are there,’ said Sam, ‘and so are Sophie and Rafi. James and Libby may stay on too – and your cousin George. There will always be opportunities for those who are committed to make a go of it.’

Adela felt excitement quicken inside. ‘It would be wonderful to be at Belgooree again – I’ve missed it far more than I thought I would.’

‘I wouldn’t want your mother to feel she had to give me a job though,’ Sam said cautiously. ‘We might have to go elsewhere.’

‘Would you want to carry on with your photography?’ Adela asked.

‘I’m not sure,’ Sam said. ‘I do enjoy being behind a camera – but I also like working outdoors.’ He stroked her hair. ‘But it’s your choice too. I want you to have the chance to enjoy the things you like. Since coming back to Newcastle you’ve done none of those things – acting and singing and having fun.’