Page 104 of The Girl from the Tea Garden
‘I’m sorry, Aunt Olive. I’ve been trying to pluck up the courage to tell you.’
‘Whose is it?’ Olive asked. She looked terrified. ‘Some docker you’ve met at the cinema or the tea room?’
Adela shook her head.
‘Someone from the cricket club then? That’s it, isn’t it? I knew I should never have let you gan to that dance. And to think you took our Jane with you!’
‘It’s no one from the cricket club. It doesn’t matter who it is.’
‘Doesn’t matter?’ she hissed. ‘Of course it matters. You’ll have to marry him double quick.’
‘I can’t.’ Adela tried to stay calm. ‘And I wouldn’t want to.’
‘Notwantto? I’ve never heard a lass so brazen! Who is the father? It’s not my George?’ she gasped, clamping a hand to her mouth.
‘Of course not!’ Adela was appalled her aunt could even think such a thing. ‘It’s nothing to do with your family or any of their friends. No one here is to blame except me and the man who did this, and he can’t possibly help me now.’
‘How could you do this to your mother? Clarrie will be that ashamed of you. What will she think of me an’ all? Not able to keep you from going with men like a common tart. Is it that Wilfred who was after Jane? Did you oblige him instead?’
‘No,’ Adela insisted, ‘it’s no one you know. It happened in India.’
‘India?’ Olive echoed. ‘How far gone are you?’
‘Six months.’
‘Oh my God!’ Olive swore, close to tears.
‘I know it’s a terrible shock,’ said Adela, ‘but I’m not going to keep it. I just wanted you to know that I’ll have it adopted as soon as it’s born. Then I’ll move out and find somewhere else to live.’
Olive stared at her. ‘You can’t stay here. Not in your condition. What would the neighbours say? And my Jack; he’d have a fit! No,’ Olive said, standing up in agitation, ‘you’ll have to find somewhere else till the bairn’s born. No one must know.’
Adela’s spirits plunged; this was the reaction she had feared most but had suspected would be the most likely. She watched her trembling aunt cross over to the sideboard, reach inside for a bottle of sherry and pour herself a full glass. She glugged it down in one go.
‘Myra knows,’ said Adela, ‘and I think Jane might suspect.’
Olive looked at her, horrified. ‘If you’ve corrupted my lass—’
‘I’ve done no such thing. Jane’s a grown woman.’
‘Myra will have to go,’ Olive fretted, ‘or she’ll be telling all the other housewives in the street she works for.’
‘Please don’t sack her! Myra won’t tell a soul – she’s promised. She’s the one who noticed first, not me, and she’s not breathed a word for over a month.’
Olive poured and drank a second glass. Then she rounded on Adela.
‘Tell me who the father is.’
‘You don’t need to know.’
‘It might not be too late to get him over here sharp and marry you. Does he have money? If it’s one of your posh friends, he could fly. They say it only takes four days.’
‘He’s got money but he’s engaged to someone else– has been for years.’
Olive’s expression changed. The fear returned. ‘It’s not that Indian you acted with?’
When Adela didn’t deny it, Olive advanced, face contorting in horror. ‘You went with a native? How could you? Have you got a half-caste in your belly?’ Adela winced at the disgust in her voice. ‘A bastard Eurasian!’
‘Stop it, Aunt Olive!’ She faced her squarely. ‘It’s not as if that hasn’t happened in our family before.’
