Page 63 of The Secrets of the Tea Garden
CHAPTER 13
Herbert’s Café, Newcastle, England, April
Adela glanced out of the hot kitchen to see Joan loitering with Sam in the back yard and sharing his cigarettes. She’d wondered where the lazy woman had got to. Sam, on his way in from the allotment, had obviously been distracted. He had a box of spring greens at his feet. With a stab of irritation, Adela made for the door.
‘As soon as the divorce comes through, me and Tommy are ganin’ to get wed,’ Joan was saying, with a toss of blonde hair. ‘He doesn’t care about me being married before – not like all the gossips round here – and he’s twice as respectable as them, him being in charge of Major Gibson’s stables.’
‘It’s good that Tommy wants to take on your daughter Bonnie,’ said Sam, tipping up his battered hat and scratching his head. His face was glistening and his hands were ingrained with soil. Adela felt a familiar pang of affection for her husband but it was quickly replaced by annoyance at Joan.
‘Joan, you’re needed in the café, please,’ Adela said. ‘Doreen can’t manage the waitressingandthe washing up.’
Joan blew out a smoke ring. ‘Well, she’ll have to manage without me soon. I’m not stoppin’ to help out much longer. Tommy’s got ahouse on Major Gibson’s estate and I’ll be moving up to Willowburn once we’re wed.’
‘So you keep telling us,’ Adela said.
‘The only job I’ll have will be taking care of Tommy,’ Joan said, staring into the distance with a dreamy smile.
‘And Bonnie,’ Sam reminded her.
‘I hope Tommy’s good at cooking his own meals and cleaning up after himself,’ Adela muttered.
‘Adela!’ Sam said with a look that was half amused, half reproving.
She ignored his appeal. ‘Well, in the meantime, Joan, you can practise in our kitchen, if that isn’t too much of an inconvenience. You are getting paid, remember?’
‘Talking of which,’ said Joan, ‘Tommy thinks I should be getting paid a lot more than I am. He thinks you’re taking advantage of my good nature.’
‘Good nature?’ Adela snapped. ‘I’d call it lazy nature. You swan in here when it suits you and leave early.’
‘Only ’cause I have to pick up Bonnie from MrsBrewis,’ Joan said.
‘Or sneak off to the pictures,’ Adela accused.
Joan flushed pink. ‘Well, we all need a bit of time off now and again – it’s hard work being a mam.’
Adela was stung by the comment. Joan was one of the few who knew she had given up her baby; was she trying deliberately to hurt her?
‘Hard work for Aunt Olive you mean,’ retorted Adela. ‘I can’t imagine how you’re going to manage when you haven’t got my aunt to look after Bonnie all day.’
‘I won’t need George’s mam once I’m up at Willowburn,’ Joan said with a dismissive wave. ‘It’ll be just me and Bonnie and Tommy – a perfect life.’
Adela bit back a waspish reply about Joan being completely unsuited for a life in the country.
‘Smells like something’s burning,’ Sam said.
‘Oh hell!’ Adela turned on her heels and dashed back into the kitchen. She had forgotten all about the rhubarb pies. Wrenching them out of the old oven, she saw that the pastry crusts were burnt black. Acrid smoke billowed around.
‘Eeh, you’ve ruined MrsJackman’s pies,’ said Joan who had followed her inside. ‘What a shame. That’ll be her ration of butter gone. And Sam was so proud of that rhubarb; weren’t you Sam?’
Sam stood scratching his head. He caught Adela’s thunderous look and quickly said, ‘There’s more – I’ll go and pick some.’
‘No!’ Adela turned back to the pies. ‘They’re not ruined. We’ll cut the tops off and serve them with whipped cream. They’ll still be delicious. Mohammed Din did a recipe like this. We’ll put ginger in the cream.’
‘They’ll not eat that round here,’ said Joan.
‘Of course they will,’ Adela said, her temper rising, ‘and you are going to serve it to them. Put that cigarette out and get your apron back on again.’
With a pout, Joan did as she was told.
