Page 100 of The Girl from the Tea Garden
Libby shook him off. ‘We wouldn’t like it if we were ruled by people thousands of miles away, would we?’
Adela was jolted by the words. She remembered Ghulam Khan being passionate about the same thing. How strange that she should hear it repeated by her youthful second cousin.
‘Well, young lady,’ Tilly said in exasperation, ‘it’s British people like your father who are working hard thousands of miles away who make it possible for you to go to your very good school. So you can tell that to your Miss MacGregor.’
‘From what I remember,’ Libby sparked back, ‘it was hundreds of coolies who did most of the work. It’s because they are paid so little that Daddy can afford to send me to school over here.’
‘Don’t be so rude!’
‘Not that I got any say in the matter.’
Adela could see Tilly’s eyes begin to fill. She knew how reluctant Tilly had been to send her children so far away for their schooling, so Libby’s words were bound to wound.
‘Don’t start that again,’ Tilly pleaded.
‘I wish I’d been allowed to stay in India like Adela was,’ Libby persisted. ‘You chose your school, didn’t you, Adela? And you ran away from the one you didn’t like.’
‘Well, it was my parents’ decision to send me to StMary’s,’ Adela replied, not wanting to fuel the argument, ‘and it was your cousin Sophie who suggested it.’
‘I wish she’d suggested that I go there too,’ said Libby.
‘And I’d wish you’d stop going on about it,’ Tilly snapped. ‘You’re perfectly happy at StBride’s.’
Lexy saved the situation by bustling over with a fresh plate of cakes. Jamie and Libby tucked in, and for a while the conversation turned to what Adela had been doing in Newcastle. They were interrupted by the surprise appearance of George.
‘Hello, MrsRobson,’ he said as he strode across and kissed Tilly robustly on the cheek.
‘Goodness me, George,’ she cried. ‘What a handsome young man you are. Children, do you remember Adela’s cousin George Brewis?’
Jamie stood and shook George formally by the hand. Libby sat up and smiled. George pecked her on the cheek, which brought the colour flooding to her face.
‘Couldn’t miss out on seeing the Robson family.’ George winked. He sat down and helped himself to a sandwich. ‘Come on you two; you have to finish these cakes,’ he ordered, ‘or Lexy will never speak to you again.’
He chatted easily, asking the youngsters about their holiday in Dunbar. Adela noticed how Libby’s dark blue eyes shone as she looked at George and her cheeks remained flushed as she answered his questions. Adela recognised the yearning in the girl’s face, her impatience to grow up and be treated as an adult. She had been Libby’s age when she had fallen for Sam Jackman. Yet she had not rebelled against her mother as Libby was doing. But then the poor girl had been separated from Tilly for six long years, and her aunt Mona in Dunbar had become a mother substitute. Tilly wanted her to be the little girl she had left all those years ago, whereas Libby was on the cusp of womanhood and kicking against being treated as a child.
‘Libby, would you like George and me to take you out in the van this afternoon?’ Adela suggested. ‘Let your mother and Jamie go to the library and art gallery.’
‘Yes, I’d love that,’ Libby said, beaming.
‘What do you say, George?’ Adela asked, conveying a certain look. ‘We could help you sort out the orders.’
He read the signal. ‘I’d be delighted to have the company of two charming ladies. I’m going upriver to Wylam. We’ll have ice creams in Prudhoe on the way home.’
‘That’s very kind.’ Tilly gave a smile of relief. ‘You will behave yourself, won’t you, Libby?’
‘I promise not to put my elbows anywhere I shouldn’t,’ Libby answered with a grin.
At the beginning of September, before Tilly’s children were due to start the new school year Adela was to join them in StAbb’s on the Berwickshire coast. They were renting a solid stone house on the clifftop with Sophie for a week. Just before she went she received a parcel of Belgooree tea from her mother, which had been sent sea mail at the beginning of August. In it was a letter telling her about Sam’s unexpected visit. Adela’s heart quickened.
...He was sorry not to find you here. I could tell he was disappointed. James wasn’t very kind to him– there seems to be some animosity there– so he didn’t stay long. But I thought you’d want to know that he came to pay his respects to your father. Sam spoke a lot about your time at Narkanda helping at the clinic. I’m so proud that you did that, my darling. And here I was thinking you were spending most of your time in Simla just enjoying yourself! I’m sorry to have misjudged you.
Sam’s no longer living at the mission, though he appears to be doing their work further into the mountains at Sarahan. Do you know it? He is such a nice man. I think it’s very unfair of the British community in Simla to ostracise him for taking responsibility for Pema. I’m sorry to tell you though, my darling, that Sam is plainly living with her as man and wife– that’s what he said ...
As man and wife. The words were like a kick to the stomach. Adela felt desolate at the news. A part of her had still hoped that Sam was merely protecting Pema as one of his household. But no, he was living openly with her as her husband. She doubled up in pain at the thought of Sam and Pema living a life of intimacy. She thought she would be physically sick. Adela wished no ill on the Gaddi girl, and was thankful that she had escaped her cruel uncle, but would have given anything for it to have been any man in the world other than Sam who had stepped forward and saved her.
With a numb heart Adela prepared for her holiday in StAbb’s. Olive rejected the gift of tea.
‘Fancy Clarrie sending that. My Jack’s a tea merchant; tea is the one thing we don’t want for!’
