The Silent Woman: The USA TODAY BESTSELLER - a gripping historical fiction. Terry Thomas Lynn

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СКАЧАТЬ Never forget that. You’re doing a patriotic service for your King and country. Caution is the operative word, my dear. I’ll have something else for you in a few days. Look for my ad.’ Reginald stood, his arthritic knees popping from the effort. ‘Not as young as I used to be. I’ll do anything I can to help you get sorted, Catherine. I mean that. Not all women are destined to do what society expects of them. I’m sorry that you and Benton weren’t blessed with children, but that’s not your fault, my dear. And there’s certainly no shame in it.’ He touched a gentle hand to her shoulder.

      ‘I know. Thank you for that.’

      She sat on the bench in the warm summer sun and watched Reginald walk away. He was keeping something from her. Every fibre of her being sang with that truth. She wondered where he went when he wasn’t meeting with her. He told her over and over again – more so during the past six months or so – that another war was coming. Hitler was rearming, while France and England were sitting by, doing nothing.

      Cat wondered why there was no mention of war in the newspapers. She’d never been interested in politics until she met Reginald. Now she scoured the newspapers, looking for any hint of the things Reginald told her about during their meetings in the park. Cat had been too young to do anything important in the last war, and it had resolved by the time she could make some contribution. But she had seen the soldiers coming home from the battlefield with their arms and legs blown off. She had seen the women who had lost husbands and sons and soon came to recognise that look of sorrow and emptiness.

      Cat had arrived in London as a seventeen-year-old country girl, with a northern accent and all the wrong clothes. In the beginning, she tried to embrace her new life. Moving from a small village in Cumberland to London required a bit of adjustment. Lydia took her shopping for the latest fashions and dragged her along to art openings, plays, and writers’ salons. Cat tried to fit in. Aunt Lydia went out of her way to help Cat find a set of like-minded friends, but the death of her parents had ripped a hole in her heart. Cat preferred spending time alone with her grief.

      And that was why – Cat realised from the Olympian vantage point of one who looks at the past with a critical eye – she married Benton at twenty-two, when she was young and naive and thought that the passion he stirred in her was the type of love that would withstand time, the type of love her parents shared. Cat knew now that her judgement about Benton – and about love in general – was gravely flawed.

      She shook her head, chastising herself for her sentimentality. This was not the time for wistful dreams of days gone by. Full of purpose, Cat set off at a brisk pace, her heels clicking in time to the beat of the city. She blended in with the foot traffic, savouring the feeling that she was part of something bigger than herself, that she was doing something productive. Every now and again Reginald’s words would pop into her head. Not all women are destined to do what society expects of them. She certainly hadn’t disappointed on that score.

      As she walked, her thoughts turned – as they often did of late – to her relationship with Alicia Montrose. Cat and Alicia became friends the minute they laid eyes on each other. Benton’s work schedule allowed Cat plenty of freedom. He approved of Cat’s friendship with the influential Montroses, and didn’t seem to care when they went on holidays to the sea, skiing in Switzerland, and to Alicia’s country house. Sometimes they would travel in a large group of women – Alicia Montrose had a large circle of friends – sometimes Cat and Alicia would travel alone.

      The women were overjoyed when they became pregnant at the same time. But Cat had lost her child, while Alicia had given birth to a healthy boy. Reeling from the loss, Cat had slowly stepped away from society in general. She lost her desire to travel. She had no interest in anything. Over the next three years Alicia gave birth to two more children, while Cat suffered three more miscarriages.

      Now the sight of Alicia Montrose caused an unbearable ache in Cat. She felt guilty for it. She knew that she had turned her back on a good friend. But she simply couldn’t face Alicia and her children, and the painful reminder of how things could have turned out for Benton and her.

      Time changes friendships. Alicia was busy with her children. Cat involved herself in the fundraising work and charity balls that were the centre of her sister-in-law’s life. She found she had a knack for it, so she threw herself in, using the exhausting work as a psychological crutch. She and Alicia crossed paths and were polite to each other, but the sister-ness between them – a word coined by Alicia – had left. Cat lived a whirlwind of committee meetings and fundraisers, which she managed and oversaw with great success. The charity balls she organised grew exponentially each year. She was creative and hired lavish entertainment.

      She worked herself to exhaustion, and would have continued to do so until a bout of influenza almost killed her. She had been in hospital for a month, and then at a luxurious spa for a rest cure for three months after that. During this time, Cat had re-examined the choices she made and had found herself wanting.

      During Cat’s hospitalisation Alicia had visited her regularly. When Cat requested the nurses turn Alicia away, Alicia sent flowers and books. To this day, Alicia – with the tact and social grace that was her birthright – still made an effort. She had proven to be a true friend, and Cat had shunned her for her efforts.

      She walked amid a throng of people, past the tobacco shop, a tea shop, and a dress shop. The woman who ran the haberdasher’s stood outside, surveying the street as though it were her personal domain, a faraway look in her eyes. Cat nodded to her as she walked past.

      She needed to make things right with Alicia, but she had no idea how to go about doing so. The foot traffic diminished as Cat approached the block that housed Hamer, Codrington, and Blythe. She passed an insurance office and a watch and clock repair shop. What if she could just start over, someplace where no one knew her? She could adopt a child … She almost snorted with laughter. What would she do with a child? How could she possibly cope with a child by herself, with no job? She was snapped out of her reverie when someone grabbed the strap of her bag and yanked hard.

      Cat cried out as pain wrenched her arm and raced up to her shoulder, like electricity travelling up a wire. The force stopped her and yanked her around, forcing her to come face to face with what at first glance appeared to be a small boy. On closer inspection Cat saw that her assailant was a woman, lithe and spry as a dancer, and very strong despite her size. The woman had clear skin, devoid of any cosmetics, brown eyes, and a thin mouth pursed in a line of determination.

      ‘Let go of my purse!’ Cat cried out.

      The woman yanked on the bag. When that didn’t work, she reached inside, her fingers grasping Reginald’s envelope. Cat pulled her bag close to her chest and held fast. Her attacker persisted, but Cat held on.

      ‘Give it to me,’ the woman said.

      ‘Let go of me,’ Cat said.

      ‘You there!’ a man called out from down the street. He took off at a run towards Cat and her assailant, his tie flapping in the wind.

      ‘Just give me the envelope and you won’t get hurt,’ the woman said through gritted teeth.

      With one final pull, Cat jerked the bag free of the woman’s grasp. The woman growled like a dog. The punch came hard and fast, like the strike of a snake. The woman’s fist connected with Cat’s cheek, knocking Cat’s head back. Stars swam before her. Her knees started to buckle. She clung to the bag as she sank to the hard pavement. Once she was down on the ground, she sat dazed and unable to move. Through the crowd of legs that stood around her, she recognised the scuffed brown shoes that belonged to the woman as she walked away, her gait sure and steady.

      ‘Call the police,’ someone said.

      ‘Is СКАЧАТЬ