Page 68 of The Secrets of the Tea Garden

Adela slipped her arm through his. ‘Wouldn’t that be wonderful if Sophie and Rafi decided to retire back to Britain too? I know you miss her and it would make me feel a whole lot better for having dragged you back to Newcastle.’

Sam gave her an intent look. ‘You didn’t drag me anywhere. I don’t mind where I live as long as you are there, Adela.’

Her heart drummed at his loving words. ‘Darling Sam, I don’t deserve you.’

‘Nonsense. I’m the luckiest man in the world, having you as my wife,’ he said and leant in to kiss her on the lips.

Adela kissed him back, flooded with love for him. Gently, Sam pushed her back on the rug and began to kiss her more deeply as his hands searched to loosen her jacket and blouse. Adela’s arousal turned abruptly to panic. She pushed him away.

‘Not here, Sam,’ she said. ‘It’s too public.’

He gave a puzzled smile. ‘There’s no one around. I want you so much, my darling.’ He tried to kiss her again but Adela sat up.

‘I can’t – someone’s bound to come. We’re just off the footpath.’

Sam sighed and pulled away. Adela felt confused by her reluctance to make love – she desired him just as much as ever – but she couldn’t. The place was wrong, that was all. Guilt swept her at the look of hurt on her husband’s face. It was all this talk of India; it was making her homesick and unsettled. It reminded her of how happy they had been in the early days of their marriage, when they had been so easy in each other’s company – so spontaneous.

‘Let’s put our feet in the river,’ she suggested, standing up.

‘It’ll be freezing,’ he protested.

‘I know.’ She smiled and, kicking off her shoes, scrambled down the sandy bank.

The river was fast flowing but they were perched above a shallow pool gouged out of the bank where the current slowed. Adela rolled down her stockings and shoved them in a jacket pocket. Holding up her skirt, she waded into the icy water with a shriek.

Sam was soon rolling up his trouser legs and joining her with a loud bellow at the freezing water. He flicked water at her, making her scream and splash him back. A few minutes later, a worried-looking man appeared on a bicycle.

‘Are you okay?’ he shouted down.

Spluttering, Adela called out, ‘We’re fine – just paddling!’

‘You’re daft in the head,’ said the man before cycling on.

After that they climbed out with bashful laughter and pulled on their shoes with numb fingers. Packing up swiftly, they made their wayback to the car. It clouded over and the sun went. By the time they got back to Tilly’s house, they were chilled through. Tilly scolded Sam for allowing Adela in the river and ordered her into a hot bath. Adela nearly fell asleep in the steamy bathroom and, excusing herself from the evening meal, retreated to bed.

‘It’s been a lovely day,’ she said, ‘but I can hardly stay awake.’

Even though it was still light outside, Adela fell asleep in minutes and wasn’t even aware of Sam creeping under the covers later that night.

Adela, refreshed after a long sleep, determined that she would make a real effort to be nicer to Sam and her staff in the coming week. She didn’t like the fretful, short-tempered woman she had become. Despite the daily grind, she must try and be more like the gregarious Adela of old who would lift people’s spirits and encourage harmony. That day at the café she refrained from criticising Joan, complimenting her on being chatty with the customers and thanking her for helping out.

She allowed MrsJackman to order her about in the kitchen and retreated to a corner of the café to do her paperwork. She liked to sit half hidden behind a screen and listen to the customers and the waitresses, being on hand to smooth things over if a complaint or problem arose. She was always touched when some of the older customers remembered her mother fondly and told Adela that she reminded them of Clarrie. To her, that was the greatest compliment anyone could give her.

Sam turned down his mother’s invitation to go to her house for a meal that evening.

‘Maybe Adela and I could come over on Sunday?’ he suggested.

MrsJackman looked dismayed. ‘That’s a whole week away.’

‘It’ll soon be here,’ said Sam with a smile of reassurance. ‘We’ve too much to do at the café at the moment – redecorating and odd jobs that can’t be done during the day.’

‘Very well,’ MrsJackman agreed with reluctance, ‘I’ll expect you for Sunday dinner.’

Adela was grateful to Sam for standing up to his mother and told him so. That evening, as they walked from the bus stop to Tilly’s, arm in arm, they discussed what they would plant next in the allotment and whether they should alter the style of the café décor.

‘The palms and brass urns are all a bit dated, aren’t they?’ said Adela.

‘I like the eastern look,’ said Sam.