Page 64 of The Girl from the Tea Garden (The India Tea #3)
Perhaps Adela had been too eager to ignore what was happening in Europe, so bound up was she in her new life in England.
After the distress of her pregnancy and the shameful birth of her baby, all her energies had been channelled into forging a fresh existence with new friends and interests.
If news came on the wireless in the flat, she would turn it off or retune it to popular songs or band music.
She was always singing. ‘My little nightingale’, Lexy called her.
When Adela sang, it made all other thoughts go away.
But after the discussion at the theatre that day, everything seemed to move with dizzying speed.
Within a week Hitler was threatening to march on Danzig in Poland, and Britain and France had restated their pledge to protect Poland’s independence.
Emergency powers were introduced to put the country on a war footing.
Schools practised evacuating children to the countryside, kerbs were painted white in anticipation of night-time blackouts, gas masks handed out and restrictions put on carrying cameras in certain areas.
Each day the newspapers and newsreels carried instructions to civilians, while soldiers and sailors had leave cancelled and hurried to report to barracks and ports.
Tilly came round to the café in a panic. ‘They’re saying the Admiralty is stopping British shipping from entering the Mediterranean. It’s out of bounds. What does that mean for boats to India?’
‘I don’t know,’ Adela said, trying not to show alarm, ‘but we could go down to the shipping offices on the quayside and find out.’
On the way they noticed the frantic activity.
People were sandbagging buildings, and throngs of men in uniform were milling about the lofty entrance to Central Station.
The offices of the shipping lines were besieged by people wanting to know about sailings across the Atlantic to America and Canada, as well as to the East. Adela steered Tilly away after a harassed clerk suggested that they’d do better going to India by aeroplane.
‘You can fly to Karachi in four days via Cairo and Damascus,’ he said. ‘That’s what I’d do if I wanted to get back out to my family.’
Adela’s stomach clenched in fear. It all seemed like a bad dream.
But the man’s anxiety was infectious. War was coming.
Neither woman spoke as they toiled back up steep Dean Street into the town.
Adela steered Tilly into a café and ordered them coffee.
The older woman was perspiring, her brow creased in worry.
‘What do you want to do?’ asked Adela. Her mind was in turmoil. She couldn’t think.
Tilly stared at her coffee, stirring it with a spoon though she’d forgotten to put in sugar. Finally she glanced up and met Adela’s look. ‘My family is here,’ she said quietly. ‘I won’t go back to India without them.’
‘And what about Uncle James? He’ll be expecting you back.’
Tilly gave a small shrug. ‘He will cope, like he always does. Besides, this whole thing might still blow over. I wasn’t due to go back till after the children start school again in mid-September.’
Tilly put a hand out and covered Adela’s. ‘What about you?’
Adela had refused to think about her situation up till now.
She had been sure that war would be averted– somehow, by someone– but she could no longer ignore what was happening.
If war was coming, her mother would want her to come home, wouldn’t she?
India held those most dear to her – her mother, her brother, Sophie and Rafi, Aunt Fluffy, and somewhere in the mountains Sam lived his life.
She felt the familiar hollowness inside at the thought of him. He seemed further away now than ever.
Yet if Tilly was to stay ...? Here in Newcastle, Adela had her new life and friends, and she felt she owed them her loyalty too.
She had a feeling that to turn her back and run away to safety in India would be a betrayal of these people, who had opened their hearts and homes to her: Lexy and the waitresses, Josey and the players, Maggie and Ina, her Brewis cousins and Uncle Jack.
Even if Aunt Olive had found it difficult to love her, the others had shown her friendship and support. She held on to Tilly’s hand.
‘I feel so torn,’ Adela admitted. ‘I’m not sure what to do.’
Tilly squeezed her hand. ‘I understand. You need time to think about it. It’s different for me. The children are my first priority.’
They left the café, their coffees cold and half-drunk.
On the walk back to Tyne Street, Adela wrestled with her thoughts.
Tilly’s fierce protectiveness towards her children plagued her.
Deep down Adela had another reason to stay in England that she could hardly even admit to herself.
Her baby. John Wesley was a quiet, insistent pull on her heart.
She knew it was irrational, for he could never be hers.
How could she even acknowledge that she’d ever had a son?
She had no idea if he was still in the country– most likely not– yet she couldn’t bring herself to leave this place where he was born.
Those strange intense weeks with the women at Cullercoats and the few days with the baby were dreamlike now, but they tied her to the area.
Adela drew comfort from living with Lexy, who knew what she’d been through and what she had given up,and that she had once been a mother.
None of this she could ever say to Tilly, but by the time they reached Herbert’s Café, Adela had made up her mind.
‘Auntie Tilly, if you’re staying,’ she said tentatively, ‘then I think I will too. At least for the moment, while things are still uncertain. Like you say, it might all blow over.’
Tilly brightened. ‘Are you sure?’
Adela nodded.
Tilly’s face broke into a smile of relief. ‘Oh, darling girl! That’s what I hoped you’d say.’
The following day the prime minister, Neville Chamberlain, announced over the airwaves that Britain was at war with Germany.