Page 90 of The Girl from the Tea Garden
The train pulled into the cavernous Newcastle Central Station with a hiss and a billow of steam. Adela hugged her aunties and Mungo goodbye– they were all going on to Dunbar to stay with Tilly’s sister Mona– and then they helped her out of the carriage with her two suitcases and hatbox.
‘We’ll meet soon,’ Tilly promised. ‘I’ll come for a day out in Newcastle.’
‘And don’t forget you’re invited on holiday to StAbb’s in September,’ Sophie reminded. ‘See if Cousin Jane would like to come too.’
‘I will,’ Adela said, feeling suddenly teary that she was losing their company. ‘Have a lovely reunion with Jamie and Libby. Tell them we’ll play tennis together.’
‘Will do, darling girl,’ Tilly said, beaming and waving like an excited child.
Adela looked around for a porter. At any Indian station she would have been surrounded by red-jacketed coolies offering help and swinging her cases on to their heads before she could utter the words. As the train pulled away, she stood feeling foolish. She waved to a man with a trolley.
‘Sorry, missus,’ he said, ‘I’m meetin’ the posh uns in first class.’ He called to a younger skinny man to deal with her.
The youth struggled with her two cases, while she carried the hatbox to the ticket barrier. Beyond were a crowd of expectant people come to meet passengers. Adela strained for a sight of any Brewises and worried that she wouldn’t recognise any of them. A tall, thin young woman with a short pageboy haircut under an old-fashioned cloche hat raised her hand and gave an uncertain smile.
‘Cousin Jane?’ Adela called. The woman nodded. Adela muscled through the barriers, relieved that someone was there to meet her. She plonked down her hatbox and threw her arms around her cousin. Jane tensed, startled by the demonstrative greeting.
‘It’s wonderful to meet you at last.’ Adela grinned. ‘We could be sisters, couldn’t we? Same dark hair and shape of the eyes.’
Jane blushed, pleased at the remark. ‘You’re much prettier.’
‘No, I’m not.’
‘George is waiting with the van outside. He’s supposed to be at work, but he said he couldn’t let you go on the tram.’
‘That’s very kind.’ Adela smiled.
Under the blackened portico, Adela spotted a dark green van bearing the name of The Tyneside Tea Company, her uncle Jack’s firm. The driver tooted, then jumped out and took the cases from the panting porter.
‘Bloody lead weights,’ the youth muttered, holding out his hand for a tip.
George paid him, then turned to Adela with a broad smile and an outstretched hand. ‘So, you’re my exotic cousin. You’re even prettier than all your photos.’
Adela laughed and shook hands. ‘And you’re just as handsome as yours.’
She was amused to see his fair face blush. He was good looking, with well-groomed blond hair and regular features. Brother and sister were nothing like each other in looks, and by the way George chatted and Jane fell silent, Adela guessed they were opposites in temperament too.
They clambered into the front of the van, Adela squeezing in between her older cousins, and George was soon swinging the vehicle into the traffic.
‘Sorry to hear about Uncle Wesley,’ George said.
‘Thank you,’ said Adela.
‘What a terrible business.’
‘Yes, it was.’ She dug her nails into her palms.
‘He was really canny, your father,’ said George.
‘Canny?’
‘Aye, likeable man– fun with us bairns. He taught me how to play cricket and took me riding the last time you were home. I must’ve been about nine.’
Adela’s eyes prickled. ‘I don’t remember that.’
‘You were just a nipper. Bet he was a great dad.’
Adela nodded, swallowing down tears. When would she stop wanting to cry at the very mention of her father’s name?
