Page 18 of The Secrets of the Tea Garden
When Adela spoke, her voice was oddly shaky. ‘Can I have one of your cigarettes, Lexy?’
Lexy passed her the packet and matchbox. Libby watched Adela light up the cigarette and inhale deeply. She thought her cousin had given up smoking.
‘Have I said something to upset you?’ Libby asked. ‘I wasn’t blaming George – far from it.’
‘No, you haven’t,’ Adela said, immediately stubbing out the cigarette.
To Libby’s alarm, Adela’s eyes flooded with sudden tears. Libby leapt out of her chair and rushed to put an arm around her cousin.
‘I’m sorry; tell me what I’ve said. I’m always putting my foot in it.’
At this, Adela dissolved into tears. Shocked, Libby wrapped her arms tighter around her. Adela’s shoulders felt fragile and bony, shaking under Libby’s hold. Libby let her cry against her hair, not minding. Yet it upset her to see Adela in such a state, and she felt terrible that it was obviously something she had said that had reduced Adela to tears. On so many occasions it had been the older cousin who had comforted Libby, never this way round.
Adela made an effort to stop weeping. Pulling back from Libby and fumbling in her skirt pocket to produce a man’s large handkerchief – no doubt Sam’s – she blew her nose.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Adela tearfully. ‘I don’t know what came over me. I’m still a bit emotional about leaving India and Mother.’
Lexy gave a bronchial cough. ‘Tell her, hinny,’ she said gently. ‘Libby’s not a bairn any more – she’s a woman of the world. She knows about men who promise the earth and then leave you in the lurch.’
Libby blushed deeply. She remembered how eighteen months ago, sore-hearted over Lorenzo, she had poured out her troubles to asympathetic Lexy. She sat on the floor at Adela’s feet, watching the dark-haired woman struggle with her emotions. Her slim, pretty face was full of anguish. Libby realised her upset was nothing to do with George or Joan but something much more personal.
‘You know you can trust me,’ said Libby. ‘I won’t say anything you don’t want repeated. But only tell me if you want to.’
‘Gan on,’ Lexy encouraged. ‘A burden shared is a burden halved. Libby’s broad-minded and won’t judge you.’
Adela wiped her nose again. She sat clutching the handkerchief as if it gave her strength. Libby thought she was never going to speak.
Abruptly, Adela said, ‘When I was eighteen, I had an affair with a man in India and got pregnant. He never knew about the pregnancy. By the time I knew, I was back in Britain and had to deal with it alone. Except, thanks to Lexy, I wasn’t on my own for long.’
Libby reeled from the revelation. Adelapregnant? What man in India?
‘Oh, Adela, you poor thing,’ Libby gasped. ‘How on earth did you cope?’
Adela swallowed hard before continuing. ‘It was a few months before war broke out. I was living with Aunt Olive but she found out and said I had to go.’
‘She threw you out?’ Libby exclaimed. ‘How awful!’
‘It was Lexy who got me somewhere to live until the baby came.’
Libby gaped at her, searching back in her mind. It must have been when she was fourteen and railing against boarding school.
‘That Christmas term,’ said Libby, ‘I remember being disappointed you never came to visit. The boys and I had to go to Auntie Mona’s in Dunbar for the Christmas holidays. All that time I was feeling sorry for myself, you were having to deal with that terrible situation. I wish I’d known. Everyone said you were in panto in Edinburgh.’
Adela nodded, her eyes welling with tears again. ‘But I wasn’t. I was living with friends of Lexy’s in Cullercoats, keeping out of the wayso no one would know my shameful secret. The women were so kind and looked after me well – it was a little haven – I can’t imagine what I would have done without them.’
Libby’s insides twisted. She hardly dared ask. ‘And did the baby ...? What happened to it?’
Adela’s chin wobbled as she answered. ‘I had a son. A beautiful boy. I gave him away – for adoption – just wanted it all over and forgotten. I was so young. I had no idea. But I’ve thought of him every day since.’
Fresh tears trickled down Adela’s cheeks and she balled the handkerchief in her fist. Libby reached up quickly and put a comforting hand over hers.
‘So you never told the father?’ Libby asked.
Adela shook her head, too overcome to say more.
Lexy answered for her. ‘It wouldn’t have made any difference – the lad led her on with talk of getting wed but he was never in a position to marry her.’
Libby wanted to ask who the father was but didn’t want to upset Adela any more than she already had.
