Page 103 of The Girl from the Tea Garden
‘I know the signs, hen. Your breasts are bigger and you’ve put on weight. And lately you’ve stopped drinking tea. I went off tea when I was expecting.’
‘Expecting?’ Adela gasped. ‘I’m not ... I can’t be—’
‘Aye, lassie, I think you are. And I tak’ it from the shock on yer face that yer family dinnae ken.’
Adela swallowed down hard. Pregnant? She couldn’t possibly be! She didn’t feel any different, and she could go months without a period. Her pulse began to race. How many months this time? She racked her brains, counting back. She’d had a bleed two weeks before theArabian Nightsopened at the Gaiety, so end of April, beginning of May. Before her affair with Jay. Over five months ago.
Adela put her head in her hands. ‘Oh my God!’ she wailed.
‘Wheesht, lassie.’ Myra bustled round and put her arms around her shoulders. ‘Worse things have happened at sea. Is it one o’ George’s friends? He’ll just have tae dee the honest thing and put a ring on yer finger before it really shows. And you’ll have tae pick the right time tae tell the sherry queen in there. It’s a shame yer that far frae hame.’
Adela felt a sob rise up. ‘I can’t.’ She gulped. ‘It’s not one of George’s friends. It didn’t happen in Newcastle, it was in India.’
Myra sighed. ‘Oh, lassie,’ Myra sighed, ‘then I don’t know what yer gangin’ tae dee.’
CHAPTER 19
Adela pleaded with Myra to tell no one. She went off to work, her head reeling. It couldn’t be true. It mustn’t be true! She did her job distractedly. Lying on the pull-out bed that night, listening to Jane’s even breathing, she wondered if her cousin had had her suspicions. Was that why Jane was avoiding her? Did she think it was contagious, or did she worry at what Aunt Olive would do if she found out?Whenshe found out! Adela felt waves of panic pin her to the bed. The shock to her aunt might tip her over the edge into hysteria.
In a week’s time she could be sailing back to India. That’s what she’d do: return home to Belgooree. Her mother would know what to do. But Mother would be furious too– or worse, she’d be ashamed and feel let down by her only daughter. She couldn’t bear her mother’s disappointment after the pain she’d already caused her. God, she was a hateful person! A stupid, selfish girl! And what if Sam were ever to find out about it? She went hot and then cold at the thought. His censure would be the worst of all. She would not be able to endure it.
In the early hours of the morning, still sleepless, Adela thought about Jay for the first time in an age – properly thought about him. She was sure that he had taken precautions; he’d talked of coitus interruptus and said there was no chance of conception. She’d believed him just like she’d believed everything else he’d told her. How selfish of him! But what a fool she had been. How could she not have guessed that she was pregnant? The signs had been there if she’d thought about them: the weight she was gaining and the strange queasy metallic taste in her mouth. Had she deliberately ignored the changes in herself because she couldn’t bear it to be true? The thought that she was now carrying his seed inside her filled her with fear and revulsion. The last thing on earth she wanted was a baby– especially not that man’s baby! He had already brought so much heartache to her and her family.
She couldn’t go home; it was her last thought before falling into a troubled sleep. She woke exhausted two hours later and dragged herself down for breakfast, forcing down porridge and tea. She mustn’t do anything to cause suspicion.
Two days later she met Sophie and Tilly on the Town Moor for a walk and then lunch at Fenwick’s. Adela put on make-up and wore a new woollen skirt and jumper she’d bought in the market that didn’t accentuate her shape. She put on a cheerful face.
‘You’re absolutely sure you don’t want to come back with us?’ Tilly said in dismay.
‘I’m having too much fun here,’ Adela replied. ‘And I’m still hopeful of getting into a theatre company soon.’
‘Yes, you’d be silly to give up the chance,’ Sophie agreed.
‘We’ll miss you, dear girl.’ Tilly sighed.
‘She’ll be able to keep an eye on the children for you,’ Sophie pointed out.
Tilly brightened. ‘Oh yes, will you?’
‘Of course,’ Adela promised.
‘Perhaps you could go to Mona’s for Christmas. If your aunt Olive can spare you. I’d so love it if I thought you’d be there with my darlings.’ Tilly turned tearful and fumbled for a handkerchief. Adela thought it best not to linger.
‘I have to work at two,’ she said, getting up. In the buzz of the restaurant, she briefly hugged her aunties and forced a cheerful goodbye. She felt sick inside having to leave them, but she couldn’t let them guess her state of turmoil or let them cling on for close hugs.
She turned at the door and gave them a broad smile and a final wave, then hurried down the stairs. By the time she was out in the sharp autumn air, tears were coursing down her cheeks. She didn’t really have to go to work for another hour, but she couldn’t have kept up the pretence any longer. How many times was it on the tip of her tongue to blurt out her troubles to her closest friends and confidantes? Over the following days Adela wondered again and again what Sophie and Tilly would have said and done if she had let them into her shameful secret.
But the day of their sailing came and went and Adela would never know. She had got herself into this mess and was going to have to deal with it herself. Was it still possible to get rid of the thing inside her? Perhaps Myra would know. Could she confide in Lexy and ask her advice?
As she returned home to Lime Terrace late that night after work, she felt a strange sensation in her stomach. At first she thought it was from walking too quickly uphill in the cold damp air; it was like a hard pulse. But it wasn’t regular. It stopped, then five minutes later began again, this time more like the flutter of a tiny bird. She’d felt it before, but hadn’t thought anything of it. Now she instinctively knew what it was. Her baby– Jay’s baby– was stirring inside her.
‘What did you say?’ Olive clutched at the chair and then sank into it.
‘I’m having a baby,’ Adela repeated, rushing forward in alarm. Her aunt had gone chalky white.
She had brooded on her problem for a month, but by November she knew it was only a matter of time before rumours would start. She had a pot belly under the layers of jumpers and cardigans that she wore, pretending that she was always cold in England.
‘Don’t touch me!’ Olive screeched.
