Page 104 of The Secrets of the Tea Garden

‘Shan’t promise,’ Doreen said with a teasing smile. ‘Would you like me to have a word with Lexy and Mam? I bet they can find a suitable lass.’

‘Would you?’ Adela asked in relief.

‘Aye, of course,’ the waitress agreed. ‘Then maybe’s you and Sam will have one less thing to argue over.’

Adela blushed with guilt. Was it so obvious to everyone that she and Sam were not getting on? She dismissed the thought. She had too much else to think about. Sam would soon tire of living at Cullercoats and once she had tracked down the Segals, she would have more time to repair her unravelling marriage.

Adela approached a group of boys playing football with a tin can on the bomb site in Railway Terrace. Pulse racing, she searched their faces for any similarity to her or Sanjay but found none. They paused in their game, eying her in curiosity.

‘What d’yer want, Missus?’ demanded a red-haired youth who looked older than the others.

‘Do any of you know a boy called Jacques?’ she asked. She hadn’t meant to come straight out with such a direct question but the boy had asked and he looked old enough to have remembered people who had lived round there before the War.

‘Jack who?’

‘Jacques Segal.’

The boy laughed. ‘Jack Seagull? Na, there’s neebody here called that!’

Another boy made a squawking bird noise and the others started laughing too.

Adela smiled. ‘It’s a Belgian name. He’d be eight years old. I know they lived in this street in the early part of the War.’

‘Sorry, Missus, never heard o’ him.’ The red-headed boy turned away.

Adela’s heart sank. Perhaps Doris Kelly had remembered the street incorrectly.

‘There were them people who talked foreign, remember, Micky?’ said the squawking boy. ‘Lived at number twenty-eight. Me mam used to speak to the wife.’

‘Oh, aye,’ said his friend, ‘they were Frenchies or some’at.’

‘That could be them,’ Adela said, hope flaring. ‘Which is twenty-eight?’

The older youth, Micky, pointed at one of the piles of rubble. ‘Right there, Missus.’

Adela’s worst fears were confirmed. ‘Do you know if they survived the bombing?’

‘Divn’t kna,’ said Micky with a shrug. ‘But Billy’s mam might remember.’

‘Aye,’ his friend agreed. ‘Me mam knew everyone in the street before the War.’

‘Would she speak to me?’ Adela asked.

‘If you give me a tanner,’ intervened Micky, ‘I’ll tak’ you to Billy’s mam’s.’

‘She’s my mam not yours,’ Billy protested. ‘I should get the tanner.’

‘It’s my can,’ said Micky, picking up the battered tin they were using as a football. ‘And I say who gets to play wi’ it.’

Swiftly, Adela fished out a coin each for Billy and Micky. ‘You can both take me, please.’

The other boys whooped and hollered behind the two leaders as they led Adela back up the street to Billy’s house. Adela was ushered into a dark passageway as Billy called out, ‘Mam! Someone to see yer!’

‘Well, bring them in,’ a voice replied. ‘Unless it’s the Grim Reaper.’

Adela found herself in a narrow galley kitchen that smelt of boiling vegetables, facing a wiry woman in a faded apron. She gaped at Adela.

‘You didn’t tell me it was Vivien Leigh!’