Page 55 of The Girl from the Tea Garden (The India Tea #3)

A dela 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?

When she 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.

‘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.’

‘Not want to? 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.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I know all about our family. Mother told me. Your Indian grandmother went with a British clerk, and Jane Cooper, your mother, was the result. So we’re all half-castes.’

‘How dare you!’ Olive struck, half slapping, half clawing at Adela’s cheek. Adela recoiled, clutching at her face.

‘Don’t you ever dare say such a thing again,’ Olive cried. ‘George and Jane know nothing of all that, so don’t you say a word. You’re a disgrace to the family. You can’t stay here. So get out of my sight!’

‘So you’d put me out on the street at six months gone?’ Adela cried. ‘Mother would never do that to one of yours.’

‘No daughter of mine would have been so shameless.’ Olive glared.

Adela swallowed and took a deep breath. ‘You’re right to be angry with me. I’ll regret what I’ve done for the rest of my life. But please, Aunt Olive, help me. We’re family.’

Olive collapsed into her chair again. ‘What am I to do with you?’

‘Perhaps I could go and stay in the flat with Lexy.’

‘No. Not the café. We’d be the talk of the town. You’ll have to stop going round there.’