Page 66 of The Secrets of the Tea Garden

Adela took sly glances at his face in profile; his long features were weathered from working outdoors and his hair was still a youthful honey brown. He caught her staring and gave her a quizzical smile.

‘A penny for your thoughts?’ he asked.

‘I was just remembering the very first time I ever sat in a car beside you,’ said Adela. ‘When I’d escaped from school and made you drive me back to Belgooree.’

Sam laughed. ‘I should have known then that the rebellious tea planter’s daughter would turn my world upside down.’

Adela smiled and traced a finger down his lean face. ‘I fell in love with you that day, Sam Jackman.’

‘Lucky me,’ Sam said with a grin. She could tell he was pleased with her sudden show of affection. She felt bad that she hadn’t made an effort to be more loving in recent weeks.

Sam said, ‘I first fell in love with you when I saw you at the top of the veranda steps in Simla looking divine in a red dress at your birthday party.’

Adela gave a wry laugh. ‘It was a pink dress.’

‘Was it? Well, it looked red in the setting sun.’

‘You arrived after dark,’ Adela said in amusement.

‘Did I?’ Sam gave a rueful smile. ‘Well, you looked delectable and I had a hard time trying not to kiss you that night.’

Adela laughed. ‘I spent the evening wishing you would.’

He put out a hand and squeezed her knee. ‘I’m not always very quick to understand what you want, am I?’

‘I wish we had kissed back then,’ sighed Adela. ‘It would have saved a lot of trouble—’

She bit off her words, suddenly remembering how misunderstandings between her and Sam had led to her allowing Prince Sanjay to seduce her and leave her pregnant.

Sam withdrew his hand. ‘It worked out well for us in the end, didn’t it? I hope you don’t have any regrets – I certainly don’t.’

‘Of course I don’t,’ Adela said quickly.

After that, they drove in silence. Adela stared out of the window at the passing scenery. Trees were finally in bud after the severe winter frosts and the fields were sprouting the first tiny green shoots of wheat and barley. Sam didn’t whistle any more; he seemed lost in his own thoughts. She had an unexpected pang of longing for Belgooree and her mother. At this time of year Clarrie would be busy overseeing the first flush of tea. Adela was gripped with sudden worry that she had made a terrible mistake in leaving India. Perhaps she and Sam could only ever be really happy in their old surroundings?

But things were changing in India. Within the next year many of the British would have to retire from service and return to Britain. Even some of the tea planters might not want to stay on, knowing that their way of life might have to change too. The last letter she had had from her mother had been full of concern for Libby’s father James. He appeared to be recuperating at Belgooree from some nervous condition and was yet to be reunited with Libby.

Sam broke into her thoughts. ‘Shall we picnic near the river? I don’t want to use up too much of Tilly’s petrol ration.’

‘Yes, that would be nice.’

A few miles on they drove through an attractive village of stone houses called Wylam and parked up. Sam hauled the picnic basket out of the boot and Adela carried the rug. They walked through a wood,upriver, passing an occasional courting couple and boys skimming stones at the river’s edge. After a while, they came to a deserted patch of grass by a sandy bank, sheltered by trees and undergrowth.

Spreading out the rug on the damp grass, Sam opened up the basket. They shared a bottle of beer and munched on egg-and-cress sandwiches and slices of corned beef. Adela had got hold of some oranges through a contact at the Grainger Market. They sat sucking segments of the sweet fruit.

Then Sam produced something wrapped in greaseproof paper.

‘I got Mum to make this,’ he said, glancing at her cautiously as he unwrapped it.

‘Ginger cake?’ Adela exclaimed. ‘My favourite!’

‘And there’s butter to go with it,’ Sam said, smiling, as he cut off a slice and spread butter on it.

‘Is that your mother’s own ration?’ Adela asked guiltily.

‘She’s happy for us to have it.’ He held out the slice. ‘Eat it.’

‘Delicious,’ said Adela, biting into the cake. Silently she thought it lacked the richness and spicy tang of Mohammed Din’s ginger cake but she was touched by MrsJackman’s offering and Sam’s boyish eagerness to please her. ‘Takes me right back to Belgooree.’