Page 90 of The Secrets of the Tea Garden

‘Herbert’s,’ said Adela, ‘in the West End.’

Lily nodded enthusiastically. ‘I remember going there when Dorothy was little. There was that nice park nearby. We’d go there for a cup of tea and the lady in charge would always give Dorothy a toffee. Would that be your mother?’

‘Probably the manageress Lexy.’ Adela smiled. ‘Mother went back to India with my father after the Great War.’

They were interrupted by Dorothy bringing in a tray of tea things, a girl of about three following and clinging on to her skirt while peering at the visitor. She reminded Adela of fair-haired little Bonnie.

‘Hello.’ Adela smiled at her. ‘What’s your name?’

The girl darted behind her mother.

‘This is Maureen,’ said Dorothy. ‘Say hello to the lady, Maureen.’

Adela went down on her knees as the girl peeped out again. ‘I see you!’ Adela grinned. ‘Hello, Maureen.’

The girl gave a shy smile.

‘Where’s your big brother Michael?’ asked Adela.

‘Playing football,’ Maureen whispered. Then she turned and ran out of the room.

Dorothy said to Adela, ‘I hope you don’t mind if I leave you to pour the tea while I keep an eye on the children?’

‘Of course not,’ said Adela, relieved that she would not have to ask awkward questions in front of the younger woman.

As Adela put a cup down on the side table next to Lily, the older woman asked, ‘Do you have children, dear?’

Adela’s stomach lurched. ‘My husband and I haven’t managed to have a baby yet.’

‘All in good time.’ Lily gave her a sympathetic look. ‘I know you haven’t come here just to chat to me – pleasant as that is. What is it you would like to know, MrsJackman?’

Adela sat down again and tried to calm the thumping in her chest.

‘I – I wanted to ask you about your work with the adoption society – the one the mission church used to run in Newcastle.’

‘I’m not sure I can help you. I haven’t been involved with the society since early in the War,’ said Lily. ‘You’d be better off speaking to the minister if you’re thinking of adopting. He can put you in touch with the society.’

‘But you used to help with the children – the babies – that were given up for adoption?’ Adela asked.

‘I wasn’t one of the inner circle who made decisions,’ said Lily, looking puzzled. ‘But I did help with fostering now and again before the babies were found parents.’

Adela’s heart drummed to think this woman might have cared for John Wesley and cradled him in her ample arms. She took a deep breath.

‘Did you foster a baby boy just before the War? A baby with black hair and skin a bit darker than mine?’ She ploughed on. ‘You went to Cullercoats with Miss Trimble to fetch him ...’

Lily’s expression changed. She stared at Adela.

‘You remember him, don’t you?’ Adela pressed her.

It seemed an age before Lily spoke. The clock on the mantelpiece chimed four o’clock.

‘Are you the mother?’ Lily finally asked.

Adela’s eyes smarted. ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘Please tell me what happened to him.’

Lily gave her a pitying look. ‘He went to a good home – to parents who wanted him.’

Adela was cut by the remark. ‘I wasn’t able to keep him – not then – but I’ve regretted it ever since.’