In times of fear, exhaustion or the adrenaline-pumping moments of this hellish war, Sam had tortured himself with thoughts of Adela. In some perverse way it made it all seem more bearable to think of her living, breathing and laughing somewhere in the world rather than to imagine a world without her. Even if he never saw her again, just to think that she lived a life under the same moon and stars was a comfort; it made the world worth fighting for.
Yet there she was in Imphal just a few hours ago, stepping out of a filthy Jeep and into his life again. Sam mocked himself for his runaway thoughts. Just because she looked pleased to see him didn’t mean she shared the same strong feelings. How could she? They hadn’t met for over six years. Adela had been hardly out of girlhood. He had known back then that she had cared for him – until his impetuous actions at the Sipi Fair. At least he would have the chance to explain all that to her. If they ever got back to Imphal on schedule. Impatience curdled in his gut.
Sam set to the task of filming as they travelled on to Kohima. He had seen it all from the air, the carnage and devastation. It was amazing how just one monsoon was already covering the pounded earth and the mass graves with lush new growth. He took footage of Wavell looking through binoculars at recent battle areas. As the cloud cleared over the Naga Hills, the courageous tribesmen who had helped the Allies lined up to salute the Viceroy and the Maharajah in the traditional way by putting their hands to their noses.
Sam was suddenly overwhelmed. Their villages and animals had been destroyed by someone else’s war, yet the Nagas greeted the British with gifts of machetes and homespun cloth. Sam felt a lump in his throat at their generosity and lack of reproach. Yet again he felt humbled by the lion-hearted spirit of India’s hill people.
Adela had no idea how she had kept so outwardly calm at seeing Sam again. Sam! He had stridden towards her, camera swinging from his chest as if he had been waiting for her to arrive. He looked older, his tanned face scored with deeper lines around his hazel eyes and firm mouth. His hair was cropped short, his cap stuffed into his belt out of the way for filming. But his easy smile was just as broad, and his eyes shone with the same mixture of warmth and mischief that made her pulse race.
Then he had taken her hand and almost crushed it in his. Her heart had felt as if it would explode out of her chest at his touch. Surely he had been aware of her shaking or seen the flush rise up her neck.
‘So you’re just as keen on Sam Jackman as ever?’ Prue teased her.
Adela gave a rueful laugh. ‘Was it that obvious?’
‘It was to me,’ said Prue, ‘but then you have talked a lot about him since we’ve got back to India.’
‘Have I?’ Adela put her hands to hot cheeks.
‘Yes. And he couldn’t take his eyes off you either.’ Prue smiled. ‘I predict a possibility of some Jubbulpore when he returns tonight.’
‘Not if he’s still married to Pema.’
‘That wasn’t a proper marriage,’ Prue said dismissively, ‘just a Sipi tradition.’
‘But Mother said ages ago that he lived with Pema as her husband,’ Adela fretted.
‘Well, you’ll just have to come right out and ask him. In true forthright Adela style.’
The following day a message came through that Wavell’s party would like to attend an ENSA performance that evening, which threw the small troupe into a panic.
‘I can’t play ukulele to the Viceroy!’ Betsie shrieked. One of the dancers started throwing up.
Tommy came up with a compromise and made arrangements for an army concert band to play with them.
Prue had an uncharacteristic fit of nerves as darkness fell and word came through that Wavell’s party had arrived back in Imphal. ‘I don’t think we can wear our leotards in front of all those VIPs, can we? Won’t they be shocked?’
‘Who cares about them?’ said Tommy. ‘You’ll send the lads off in high spirits, and that’s what counts.’
Just before they were due to start, they learned that the Viceroy had left for Calcutta, pressure of work not allowing him to stay another night. Adela tried to hide how upset she was. Prue gave her shoulder a sympathetic squeeze as they took to the stage. Adela paused to take three deep breaths and then smiled into the lights, determined to give a good show no matter how disappointed she was.
The Toodle Pips received a rapturous reception from the audience of NCOs and privates; the stuffy tent was crammed with men, their sweating faces shining in the lamplight.
When they came off and the army band came on, Tommy took her by the arm and said, ‘Take a peek. You’ve just been filmed.’
Adela peered from backstage. Halfway down the room, there was Sam crouching behind his camera. Her heart leapt. He had stayed behind to film. Would he have to go straight off afterwards, or would she get to see him for more than a snatched moment? As the band played popular tunes, she felt a confusion of excitement and anxiety. She changed quickly into her evening dress of green silk that she’d had made in Bombay on their arrival back in India.
Then it was her turn to go on and sing, with Tommy on piano. The instrument sounded tinny from heat damage, but her friend attacked the keys with gusto. Adela sang ‘A Lovely Way to Spend an Evening’ and ‘A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square’. Her third song was supposed to be a light-hearted one from the musical Oklahoma! On the spur of the moment she touched Tommy on the shoulder and murmured, ‘Play “You’ll Never Know”.’
He gave her a pitying look. ‘No guesses who this is for.’ But he played the opening bars.
Adela announced, ‘I’m going to sing a special song that Alice Faye made popular in last year’s film Hello, Frisco, Hello. This song is for all your sweethearts at home who are missing you – may you soon be reunited.’
She began to sing the tender song of yearning, of a woman declaring her love for a man who doesn’t seem to notice how much she loves him. He will never know how much she misses him; he has taken her heart with him, and if he doesn’t realise how deeply she loves him now, then he will never know. Adela sang straight to the camera, her heart swelling with the bittersweet words. If she never got another chance to speak properly to Sam, then she hoped fervently that these words would say all there was to say.
As she finished, there was a moment of complete silence, and then the room erupted in applause and cheers. Adela smiled, took Tommy’s hand and they bowed together. Betsie came on with her ukulele and gave them two jaunty numbers, and then The Toodle Pips returned for their final signature song, ‘Don’t Sit Under the Apple Tree’.
Afterwards they were swept into the sergeant’s mess for drinks and almost mobbed by the high-spirited men. There seemed to be a feverishness in the air, as if everyone knew that their respite in Imphal was coming to end and they would soon be back in action.
Adela began to worry that her chance of seeing Sam was slipping away. Suddenly she spotted him in the crush of people – a head taller than most – and moving towards her. With just a smile and no words, he reached for her hand and hung on to her as he pulled her back through the crowds. Some ribald comments were shouted after them and grumbles about officers always getting the ENSA girls. But Sam ignored them as he steered Adela out of the hall, leaving Tommy playing away on the mess piano.
He led her to a row of officers’ bungalows that had remained intact through the siege, round the side of one to a small garden with a bench and a view of the eastern hills, bathed in moonlight. The noise of crickets pulsed in the undergrowth, and the trees were restless with night birds.
‘I hope you’ve taken your Mepacrine,’ Sam joked. ‘I’d hate to be responsible for you catching malaria on my account.’
‘I have,’ said Adela, ‘but we could share a cigarette and keep the moskies at bay.’ Silently she hoped it might steady her nerves at being suddenly so close to Sam in the dark. After six long years apart, would they still have anything to say to each other? Would he still be the same man with a zest for life who had made her feel so alive and special wh
en they had worked together in Narkanda?
He lit two cigarettes and gave her one. ‘You start first,’ he ordered, ‘and tell me about the last six years.’
Perhaps he was wondering the same about her. Adela gave the same sanitised story that she had trotted out for Flowers Dunlop, making him laugh with stories about her Brewis relations and the characters at the theatre in Newcastle. They finished their cigarettes. He took her hand gently, firmly between his two.
‘I’m so very sorry about your father’s death, Adela. I came to see you at Belgooree, but you’d already gone to England.’
‘Yes, I know. Mother wrote and told me. It was kind of you.’
‘Not kind – I wanted to see you and to explain about the Sipi Fair.’
Adela’s heart banged with excitement at his touch, but also fear at what he might be about to say. Abruptly she said, ‘Don’t say anything yet.’
‘But it’s important that you know. I think we cared for each other then—’
‘Kiss me, Sam,’ Adela interrupted. ‘Kiss me first before you say anything else.’
They looked deep into each other’s eyes, and then Sam was pulling her towards him and lowering his mouth to hers. He kissed her long and hard, as if he had hungered for this moment for years; she knew that she had. His hands held her body; her heart drummed under his touch. His kisses consumed her, stirring her longing for him. She ran her hands over his face and hair, wanting to feel his skin under her fingers. She had felt passion before, but this was more than physical lust: she wanted every part of his being.
They paused for breath. Sam murmured, ‘I’ve loved you for so long.’
‘Truly?’ Adela marvelled at the thought.
‘I’ve longed for you,’ he insisted.
She said, ‘I’ve dreamed of this happening so many times.’
Sam went on, ‘That’s why I want to set things straight about Sipi.’
Adela braced herself. ‘I don’t really want to know. I don’t want to hear about your wife, even if it wasn’t a proper marriage. You made a choice over Pema – a brave and honourable choice – but it changed everything.’
Sam gripped her. ‘It doesn’t have to. She isn’t my wife. I gave her a home, but we never lived as man and wife.’
‘But Mother said you did.’
Sam gave an exasperated cry. ‘Your uncle James was needling me – I let him believe what he wanted to believe.’
‘So it isn’t true? You never lived together?’
‘Not in the way you mean. I stood by her while she needed me. Pema gave birth to a child,’ Sam admitted. Adela gasped. Sam’s look bore into her. ‘But not my child.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘The poor girl was already carrying a baby when I rescued her at the fair. Her uncle had forced himself on her, and that was why he was getting rid of her at Sipi.’
Adela moaned, ‘How terrible.’
‘She has a son.’
Adela looked at him with dismay. ‘You can’t just abandon them, Sam.’
‘I haven’t.’ Sam’s hold slackened and his tone hardened. ‘I would never abandon a child – not like my mother did me. What sort of woman would give up her son?’
Adela felt her insides go cold. Sam didn’t notice her tense.
‘Well, I made sure that Pema wasn’t put in that position. My servant Nitin is her protector now. He fell in love with Pema, and I encouraged him to take on her child. They married five years ago – a proper Hindu marriage – and they have a daughter now too. You couldn’t get a more proud father than Nitin.’
Adela swallowed. Her heart was racing. ‘You’re a good man, Sam,’ she whispered.
‘No, I’m not. I’ve done some idiotic things in my life. The worst of them being allowing you to leave Simla thinking I didn’t care for you. I know I hurt your feelings – I saw you that day at Sipi with Prince Sanjay. I was mad with envy, especially after Fatima told me she had warned you about him. You were such an innocent. But you didn’t love him, did you?’
Adela squirmed at his words. ‘No, I didn’t.’
Now was the moment to confess everything, tell Sam about her affair and the baby and how she had been one of those terrible women who gave their sons away. Let him know what sort of person she really was – not the innocent girl of his dreams, but a foolish and heartless one.
Yet she couldn’t bring herself to tell him. She couldn’t bear to see the loving expression and passion in his eyes turn to disillusion and disappointment. He pulled her into his arms once more and kissed her tenderly. Adela felt slow, hot tears trickle down her cheeks. Sam pulled away.
‘Adela, my darling, what’s wrong?’ He looked at her with such loving compassion that she thought her heart would break in two.
‘Nothing,’ she said. What a coward she was! ‘I better get back.’
‘Adela.’ He stopped her getting up. ‘Speak to me. Have I gone too fast? I don’t want to put you off, but I thought we felt the same about each other. I’ll wait if that’s what you want.’
She looked away. ‘I do love you Sam, so very much. But—’
‘But what? Is there someone else, Adela? Have you promised yourself to another man? I wouldn’t blame you after all this time.’ When she didn’t answer, he dropped his hold and sighed. ‘I thought it was too good to be true that you weren’t already spoken for.’
‘It’s not like that,’ Adela struggled to explain.
‘Then what is it, my darling?’
Adela stood up. She mustn’t lead him on. She had ruined their chance of being happy together when she had chosen to have the affair with Jay. She knew Sam would despise her for what she had done – perhaps not the affair, but her abandoning of her child. That, in the eyes of Sam Jackman, with his fierce sense of loyalty and justice, would be unforgiveable. Suddenly it became clear in her mind as it had never been before: she would never be at peace unless she returned to Newcastle and tried to find her son. If he had remained in an orphanage and not been adopted, then she would claim him back. Her heart yearned for that – perhaps more than the love of any man.
‘There is someone – someone whom I must go back to England for after this war is over.’ She forced herself not to weaken in her resolve. ‘My loyalty lies with him. I’m so sorry, Sam.’
He looked at her, stunned. The confusion on his handsome features made her wince in shame. Sam stood too, trying to put on a brave face.
‘Lucky chap,’ he said.
Adela knew in that moment that she would probably never see Sam again. She could do one last thing for him, even though he might not thank her for it. She told him about visiting his mother in Cullercoats.
‘She was a nice woman – kind. She made me feel at home.’
His expression turned from regret to disbelief. ‘Why would you do that? Why go and see that woman?’
‘I thought it might help reconcile the two of you. She was full of remorse at leaving you behind. She said she’d tried to take you with her, but your father wouldn’t let her. Threatened her with the police.’
‘That’s a bloody lie!’ Sam’s anger ignited. ‘She was just saying that so you wouldn’t think badly of her. I can’t believe you were taken in. You better not have raised her hopes that I wanted anything to do with her. Did you, Adela?’
‘Yes, I did.’ She faced him. ‘I said she could write to Belgooree, and I would send on any post when I found out where you were. Then when I heard you were filming for SEAC, I wrote and gave her the Delhi address. Has she written to you?’
‘No, thank God!’ He glared at her. ‘Please tell me you didn’t just play along tonight so that you could get me to write to my mother.’
‘Of course not!’ Adela reached out a hand. Sam kept his fists balled by his side. ‘Why are you so hard on her? She made a mistake in giving you up, but she longs to be reconciled. Can’t you ever forgive her?’
‘No!’ Sam said, his jaw clenching. ‘When she walked out on me and my father, she tore my family
apart. I’ve never known family life – not until I joined the squadron. They’re my family now. I can rely on them to always be there – we protect and look out for each other. That’s what people do when they care.’
That was the last Sam spoke until he had walked her safely back to her quarters. He nodded a curt goodnight. ‘Look after yourself, Adela. I hope you have a happy life and that the man you love deserves you.’
Adela rasped, ‘Take care too, Sam.’
She stood in the dark, watching him go. For a long time she remained there, listening to the harsh sound of jackals calling in the jungle, echoing the desolation in her heart.
CHAPTER 30
The only way Adela knew how to ease her broken heart was to work ever harder. She drove herself relentlessly, pushing the troupe to do extra performances and staying up late being a confidante to homesick and war-weary men. They spent another month on the Burmese border, but she never came across Sam. She heard that 194 Squadron were on operations further into Burma. She prayed that he would stay alive and might one day forgive her for hurting him.
At times, lying awake in uncomfortable billets, she wondered if she had made a terrible error in not giving Sam the full facts about what she had done, to let him choose whether he still wanted to be with her. But she always concluded that his love would have been poisoned by the knowledge; she would have reminded him too much of his inadequate mother. She couldn’t have suffered his contempt.
Prue and Tommy could not fathom what had gone wrong.
‘He was asking for you at the hospital the morning he left,’ Prue told her. ‘One of the nurses said. He’d heard you came to sing to the patients early. What on earth did you say to put him off?’
Adela never replied to her friend’s exasperated questioning.
The Girl From the Tea Garden Page 42