Page 127 of The Girl from the Tea Garden
‘Came back to help the Mother Country,’ Tommy had said, ‘in the only way I know how.’
‘You never answered my letters about Sophie Khan and whether you might be her brother,’ Adela had chided.
‘All that weird and wonderful stuff about carved heads on bracelets? Seemed too Agatha Christie for words.’
‘Sophie was so hoping to meet you. You could at least have sent a reply.’
Tommy had given her a strange look and dropped his air of insouciance for a moment. ‘I’m not sure I want to be reinvented as someone’s brother. It would change everything– and I don’t want to be changed. I know who Tommy Villiers is. I don’t know what sort of person Sophie Khan’s brother might be. Does that make any sense to you?’
‘Yes, I suppose it does.’ She had kissed him on the cheek and never mentioned Sophie again. They had only spoken once about the painful ending to Adela’s last summer in Simla and her being ostracised by her theatre friends over her behaviour with Jay. Tommy told her that Nina Davidge’s mother had swiftly married a widowed district officer and gone to live in Sialkot, dragging Nina with her.
‘Nina wanted to stay in Simla, but her mother wouldn’t hear of it. Never thought I’d feel sorry for the girl, but her mother was a gorgon.’
‘So Nina never did go to RADA then?’ Adela had asked.
Tommy had snorted. ‘You have to be able to act to do that.’
Adela had expected to feel a flicker of triumph that the privileged, popular Nina had not had it easy after all. But she felt nothing except a small twinge of pity. The gut-wrenching emotion that the name Nina Davidge had provoked for so many years had vanished.
Deborah Halliday, Tommy told her, had returned to Burma. They had worried about what might have become of the Hallidays, but Tommy had lost touch with Adela’s one-time school friend and didn’t know. The news from Burma grew more grim, and Adela was always trying to glean information. Her beloved Assam was now on the front line.
The last she’d heard from her mother was that Uncle James had been working himself into the ground directing labour to help build defences. While other companies had pulled out their personnel, the tea planters had rallied round to defend Assam’s upper valleys. But there was precious little about it in the newspapers. The censors appeared to be throwing a blanket of secrecy over that theatre of war that just increased her anxiety. Adela had pangs of guilt that she hadn’t returned to Belgooree at the start of the war. But how could she possibly have guessed that India would be threatened with invasion by Japan? She knew now the dread that her mother must have experienced at the thought of her only daughter being encircled by the enemy. Yet it was useless to dwell on past decisions, as she could do nothing to change them. So Adela learned how to mask her constant fear for her family and homeland by keeping busy and acting cheerful.
It was when they were putting together a review troupe to tour Scotland in early 1942 that Prudence Knight had walked in, whistling and offering to paint stage scenery. Adela had been overjoyed to meet her old Simla school friend, and when one of the three Toodle Pips went ill with measles, brunette Prue stepped in and took her place. Her dance steps were a bit wooden and not always in time, but Prue had a rich alto voice and enough bravado to make up for it.
Josey sometimes joined them too– when she wasn’t in a touring play– and performed in a series of sketches that Tommy had written. The rest of the show was made up of two acrobats who could unicycle, a crooner with a husky smoker’s voice, a mediocre ventriloquist and a jaunty band consisting of an accordionist, violinist and drummer who always got feet tapping. If there was a piano at the venue which was moderately in tune and had most of its keys, Adela would also sing solo, with Tommy bashing away on the piano.
For the last eighteen months they had criss-crossed Britain in overcrowded trains and battered trucks with their show – from Newquay in the south to the Orkneys in the far north; from Blackpool in the west to Lincolnshire in the east. They performed in vast army camps, RAF aerodromes, garrison theatres and village halls, sometimes to hundreds of men and at other times to a handful in some remote anti-aircraft battery. They toured hospitals, factories, mines and prisoner-of-war camps. On one occasion, when Tommy’s comedy routine was met with silence and stony looks, The Toodle Pips were sent back on to save the show. Afterwards it was discovered that the baffled audience were a group of Polish airmen, who hadn’t understood Tommy’s quick delivery or humour. Josey had teased him for weeks afterwards. ‘Give us your best Polish jokes, Villiers.’
Their schedules were relentless, the travel gruelling and the accommodation often primitive, but they knew they were doing it not just to entertain, but to lift morale among jaded troops and nervous trainees. They were never off-duty on these tours, but expected to socialise and dance afterwards.
‘Always make a beeline for the sergeants’ mess,’ Josey had advised. ‘They give you hot meals and lashings of tea– as long as you don’t mind it brewed up in the urn with tinned milk and sugar.’
‘Sugar?’ Tommy had cried. ‘What heaven!’
But often the women were monopolised by the officers and ended up in late-night drinking parties and slow dancing. They had been warned at the outset by an ENSA official, ‘Be friendly and chat to the boys– they’ll need cheering up most likely– but don’t be flighty or lead them on.’ She had fixed the new girls with a look and said words that made Adela flinch. ‘No loose behaviour or babies on tour, do you hear?’
Prue was often quoting this in mock-severe tones, unaware of just how painfully it reminded Adela of her shameful mistake with Jay. Her friend was always one of the last to leave the fun and revelled in the attention.
‘You’re such a prude,’ Prue would tease Adela. ‘You won’t even let them give you a goodnight kiss.’
‘Can’t be flighty,’ Adela would quip, and change the subject.
When she thought back to her time in Simla and her infatuation with Prince Sanjay, she wondered if that could really have been her. She could think of him with dispassion now– he’d been handsome and charming– but she felt no flicker of desire or emotion towards him. But Sam was another matter. She looked at the young officers and soldiers who were eager for friendship, and none of them stirred her heart in the way Sam still did. Sometimes she would glimpse a ruffled head of fair hair or a pair of muscled shoulders that made her insides somersault, and for a split second she thought she had found him again, was desperate for it to be Sam. Always her hopes were dashed, and she would turn away and hide her desolation. Adela knew she would never be able to fall for another man the way she had for Sam. It made it easier to resist the advances of other men yet left her feeling alone and yearning for what she couldn’t have.
After the show in Cumberland to the Land Girls, Adela and her companions travelled south. With one week left of their six-week tour, conversation turned to what they might do next. Tommy raised the subject of going abroad.
‘You know they’re wanting more of us to volunteer for North Africa now that the Germans have surrendered there. Desert is positively groaning with army boys with not enough to keep them from going mad with heat and boredom.’
‘I’d heard ENSA is wanting to send touring parties further east to India,’ said Josey.
‘India?’ Adela felt a quickening of interest. ‘Really?’
‘I heard Basil Dean discussing it when I was last in London. Thinks Mountbatten’s South East Asia Command troops are being neglected as far as entertainment goes– they’re the forgotten army.’
‘You’ll not get me going out there,’ said Helen, a fellow Toodle Pip. ‘It’s all disease and creepy-crawlies and horrible heat, isn’t it?’
‘Not all the time,’ Tommy said, winking at Adela.
