Page 116 of The Girl from the Tea Garden
CHAPTER 22
It was my friend Ros Mitchell who put the idea in my head,’ Tilly explained once Adela had brought her crying under control and was sitting beside her at the table. ‘Her husband, Duncan, has been posted back to Newcastle. You know he works for Strachan’s agency? Well, their headquarters are here. Ros is simply my very best friend in Assam, and I really can’t bear the thought of her being here and me out there. But that’s as may be. She suggested I keep her company on the ship home– come back for the summer.’
‘Why didn’t you say you were coming?’ Adela smiled tearfully. ‘Mother never mentioned it.’
‘It was all very last minute. I was lucky to get a berth on board. But there have been cancellations– some people aren’t sure if coming home is a good idea.’ Tilly paused and glanced at her children. ‘Their father wasn’t happy. He’s got it into his head that Europe’s on the verge of war.’
‘He’s right: it is,’ Libby interrupted. ‘Hitler’s got his sights on half the Continent. Poland will be next and—’
‘All right, we don’t need a political lecture, thank you, dear.’ Tilly waved an impatient hand.
‘I hope there is a war,’ eleven-year-old Mungo said in excitement. ‘I’m going to join the army as soon as I’m allowed and fight the Germans.’
‘Don’t be stupid,’ said Jamie. ‘War’s a horrible thing, and you’re just a kid.’
‘Don’t be unkind; he’s only being patriotic,’ Tilly said, defending her youngest and putting a protective hand on his head of unruly red curls.
‘Idiotic,’ muttered Jamie, lolling back in his chair. At sixteen, Adela noticed, he was gangly and slightly clumsy, as if not sure what to do with his long limbs. His voice had deepened in the past year. Libby was still plump-faced and wearing her hair in girlish plaits, but her figure was developing. She kept crossing her arms self-consciously over her breasts, as if by doing so she could hide them. Adela felt a pang of pity for the awkward fourteen-year-old.
‘Anyway, I’m just here for the summer holidays,’ Tilly continued. ‘Ros has kindly invited us to stay at their house in Jesmond. It’s just two streets away from my old home– can you believe it? We’re going to spend a week in StAbb’s with Ros’s in-laws, and of course we’ll visit Mona at Dunbar, but most of the time we’ll be here in Newcastle.’
‘That’s wonderful,’ cried Adela. ‘We’ll be able to see lots of each other.’
‘Exactly,’ Tilly said, covering her hand and squeezing it.
‘You never came to see me at school,’ Libby said, giving Adela a steady look with her dark blue eyes.
Adela flushed. ‘No, I didn’t and I’m sorry. It’s been a hectic year.’
‘I was really looking forward to it,’ said Libby.
‘Don’t be rude, darling,’ Tilly intervened. ‘Adela is a busy young woman.’
‘We’ll spend some time together this holiday,’ Adela said hastily. ‘I could take you to The People’s Theatre and introduce you to the cast.’
‘Is that the socialist theatre?’ Libby asked, her interest sparking.
‘I think so,’ said Adela. ‘It grew out of the Clarion Theatre.’
‘It is then.’ Libby smiled. ‘I’d love you to take me there. When can we go?’
‘Goodness me!’ Tilly exclaimed. ‘Stop badgering poor Adela. And do sit up straight; you’ll end up with round shoulders like me.’
Libby flushed and sat back with a mutinous look.
‘We’ll go at the weekend, Libby,’ Adela promised, ‘just you and me.’ She turned to Tilly. ‘How is Mother coping? And what news of Sophie and Rafi? I want to hear everything.’
‘As expected, your mother is being a tower of strength,’ said Tilly. ‘She is coping amazingly well with the tea garden and the business side of things. And Harry keeps her busy too. I don’t know when she has time to sleep. Of course she has a very good undermanager in Daleep, and James gets across about once a month to make sure things are running smoothly. I usually go with him. The climate is so much better at Belgooree. I’m getting the most awful night sweats at Cheviot View, and on top of the prickly heat, I’m getting no sleep at all. I’m just not made for the climate in Assam. I can’t tell you what a relief it is to be back in Britain, where the wind doesn’t feel like a blast from a furnace.’
‘And Sophie?’ Adela prompted.
‘Oh, you know Sophie – enjoying the jungli life. We managed to meet up at Belgooree in the cold season so that James could join a fishing trip with Rafi and the Raja. Sophie went too, of course, while I reread Clarrie’s set of Dickens on your lovely veranda. But no doubt they both wrote and told you all about it.’
‘Yes, but not in any detail,’ said Adela. ‘Was ... was Prince Sanjay on the trip?’
‘Oh no, he wasn’t invited. Rafi thought it might be difficult for Clarrie to have to entertain him– bring back memories of the ghastly tiger hunt.’
Adela winced. ‘Yes, of course.’
