Home is Where the Heart Is. Freda Lightfoot

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СКАЧАТЬ thinking of her dream to make this the best Christmas ever for Alex. ‘Unfortunately, my skills are more concerned with checking tyres.’ She gave a dry little laugh. ‘Can’t see that being of any use slicing bacon, butter and cheese, let alone keeping track of people’s accounts. I’d be hopeless.’

      ‘Probably you would at first, but with a bit of effort you might at last learn to count, and even add up.’

      ‘Cheeky!’ she snapped, playfully punching him on the shoulder.

      He laughed as he ducked, in case she tried again. ‘I trained as a junior instructor in the army and eventually became a trainer myself, doing a lot of work with small arms. What has that got to do with cheese? You’d soon get the hang of it, Cathie. It’s plain to see that you’ve grown much more confident and capable as a result of this war.’

      Was that true? Cathie rather hoped it may well be. She had changed quite a lot over the years, gaining considerably more courage and faith in herself. Had Steve noticed that in her, or was he playing her for a fool yet again? They’d been friends from childhood, as he came from the same rough area as herself. But although he was fun to work with at these charity events, she still had her reservations about him.

      She recalled how once he’d built them a tree house down by the River Irwell, and persuaded her to climb up and sit in it. Then he’d dashed off to play with his mates, leaving her stuck up the tree, too afraid to climb down without assistance. Hours later, soaked to the skin from a downpour of rain, she was rescued by Sal who came looking for her. Steve claimed he’d meant to return but forgot. Knowing how he loved to play endless practical jokes and tricks upon her, she’d never entirely forgiven him, refusing to speak to him for months afterwards. They’d fallen out countless times over the years due to her innate caution, while Steve, on the other hand, had always been a bit reckless and impulsive, lively and ruddy-cheeked.

      Now his face was drawn and pale with a bleakness to his blue-grey eyes. Out of pity for the pain he was suffering, their friendship was slowly improving. But not for a moment could she ever feel the same way about him as she did for Alex, who was much more handsome, smart and sweetly polite. Steve would never be anything more to her than an old friend, but at least he was trying to be helpful now.

      ‘Maybe I should make a polite enquiry, just in case.’

      ‘Good. I’m sure you’ll find another job, Cathie, assuming you decide you need one.’

      She looked at him in surprise. ‘Why would I not?’

      ‘I heard that Alex will be home soon. You must be looking forward to seeing him again, and may soon be busy raising a family instead.’ He glanced across at little Heather, contentedly asleep in her pram with her thumb in her mouth.

      They both fell silent as Cathie considered this point. Was she eager to have children of her own? She hadn’t thought that far ahead, obsessed only with seeing Alex again, as well as caring for Sally’s little one. But a job could well prove to be unnecessary if they married quickly and she fell pregnant. Did she want that to happen? ‘It’s certainly true that I can’t wait see him. It’s been two years or more.’

      ‘Let’s hope he soon settles into Civvy Street. I found it difficult at first,’ Steve admitted, as he gathered the balloons into a net. ‘Once everyone has welcomed you home by buying you a pint, they tend to forget all about you. Life can feel a bit flat after that, and rather lonely to suddenly find yourself without all the mates you’ve lived and worked with for years, let alone shared untold horrors.’ He drew in a deep sigh, a frown marking his too thin face. ‘And some of them I’ll never see again.’

      Cathie was filled with sympathy as she waited for him to reveal more of his war story, but as always his mouth clammed shut. Could it be that grief overwhelmed him, the pain of remembering being too much to bear, or was he holding back some secret he wished to keep to himself? ‘It must have been very difficult for you, Steve. But I’ll be there for Alex, as I’m sure his family will too.’ Not that she knew anything about his family, never having met them.

      ‘He’s a lucky man to have you. I was not so fortunate.’

      ‘Maybe you will be one day.’ Tucking the blanket over the baby’s sprawled chubby body, Cathie decided it was time to change the subject. ‘Will Father Christmas be coming to this charity concert?’

      ‘I’ve written to invite him,’ Steve replied in all seriousness. ‘It wouldn’t be Christmas without him, would it? He’s promised to call in towards the end, with presents for all the children. There’s a special group coming from Styal, St Patrick’s and other local orphanages.’

      Glancing again at Heather, thankful that her niece hadn’t ended up in such a place, she smiled. ‘That’s wonderful. I always feel so sorry for all the poor orphans created by this dratted war.’

      Steve gave a grim little nod. ‘Yes indeed. At least we can provide them with a good Christmas party, thanks to the generosity of the Co-op. And a fun concert.’

      Before leaving, Cathie called at the office downstairs to ask if by any chance they did have any vacancies, and was politely informed that sadly that was not the case.

      ‘Hope you didn’t mind my asking, Mr Leeson. Admittedly, I don’t have any experience as a shop assistant, but I’m willing to learn. Should there ever be one, do please let me know.’

      ‘Of course,’ the manager, said. ‘Keep your eye on our window, Cathie, which is generally where we post vacancies. Although people tend to hang on to their jobs rather a long time these days.’

      Over the next few days, having had the idea of being a shop assistant planted in her head, Cathie enquired about work at several other shops too, only to receive the same response. She called in at warehouses and factories, explaining her skills and experience during the war, forced to walk away as heads were shaken. She chose not to apply at the cotton mill, as working with her mother did not appeal.

      Only a short time ago they’d been celebrating the end of the war with ticker tape and dancing, street parties, funny hats and flags. Now everyone seemed to have sunk back into a gloomy depression. Except that in two days time she’d be welcoming Alex home, which lifted her heart afresh. Their future together was surely all that truly mattered now?

CHAPTER FOUR

      A cold north-east wind was buffeting her as Cathie stood anxiously waiting on Victoria station platform, pacing back and forth, and constantly glancing up at the big clock high on the wall. The train must be running late as she seemed to have been standing here for an awful long time, yet she felt more concerned about the coming reunion with Alex than worrying about the cold. Did she properly remember him? How well had she got to know him in the excitement of their love match? Cathie recalled a kind, gentle, handsome man, very polite and caring. Would he still be the same, or might he have suffered some injury that he’d chosen not to mention in the few letters that had managed to get through? More importantly, would he still love her?

      Cathie had tried to look her best, dressed in a tailored navy jacket and skirt with a neat pleat down the front, over which she wore a beige raincoat to protect her against the weather. A wide-brimmed red wool hat decorated with a navy hatband sat carefully tilted to one side over her neatly styled hair, a matching handbag dangling on one arm, and warm red gloves. But what if he remembered her as being far more glamorous and beautiful, instead of homely and ordinary, which was how she saw herself now? If only the weather had been better, then she could have worn a pretty dress.

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