Home is Where the Heart Is. Freda Lightfoot

her food. At one point, she slid a hand beneath the table to clasp Alex’s knee, needing the reassurance of his presence beside her. Even that brought little response beyond a small sideways twist of a smile.

      Striving not to appear offended at being so ignored, Cathie concentrated on eating the Christmas turkey. ‘This is so tender,’ she said at last, unable to bear the awkward silence any longer. ‘We were going to have goose, unfortunately …’ She stopped in her tracks, not wishing to explain how her selfish mother had given it away, despite the curious glances directed her way.

      ‘What? You didn’t know how to cook it?’ Thelma asked with a laugh.

      Cathie’s cheeks flushed bright red. ‘Well, yes, actually, I did, although my cooking is nowhere near as good as yours, Mrs Ryman.’

      ‘Then perhaps you should take lessons from the WVS,’ Dorothy remarked coolly. ‘Particularly if you are soon to be married.’

      ‘Oh, I’d never thought of that. Not that I could afford to, nor have I the time.’

      His mother gave a wintry sort of smile that did not reach her cloudy grey eyes. ‘Such classes are free. Besides, you have all the time in the world to make your husband happy. That will be your job from now on, so long as you feel up to the task, that is.’

      Cathie felt a strong urge to dispute this remark, but fortunately her sense of caution won out and she kept silent. The conversation around the table again reverted to personal matters, which she allowed to drift over her head, making no attempt to listen, let alone join in. Alex was likewise ignoring her, exchanging a few words with his father. Perhaps, she thought, when lunch was over, there would be the opportunity for them to be alone at last and have time to talk. Till then, she’d button her lip and say nothing more.

      But his mother’s next question, directed specifically at her, changed everything. ‘I perfectly understand why a young girl such as yourself would be eager to quickly tie the knot, but you need to remember that my son has only just returned from the war, so must be allowed some time to recover before you rush him down the aisle.’

      Cathie let out a little gasp. ‘I wasn’t planning on doing any such thing.’ The joy she’d felt in anticipation of Alex’s homecoming, and their wedding, had now quite deserted her. ‘We haven’t even fixed a date yet, have we, Alex?’ she said, turning to him for confirmation.

      ‘It’s none of your business, Ma. We’ll marry when we choose,’ he announced firmly.

      ‘Don’t speak to your mother in that manner,’ ordered his father. ‘She is only showing concern for you.’

      ‘I don’t need her concern. I’m perfectly well. No injuries, no loss of limb, not blind or deaf. Nor am I any longer the young boy I was when I joined the army back in ‘39, but a grown man who makes his own decisions in life.’

      ‘You are most certainly not the man you were, darling boy,’ she insisted. ‘You don’t even seem happy to be home, behaving ridiculously tetchy and bad-tempered one minute, and sunk into silent gloom the next.’

      ‘You won’t even tell us where you’ve been stationed, or what you’ve been up to these last years,’ his father growled. ‘Nothing about your role or rank in the army, let alone what you hope to do in the future.’

      ‘We were shelled, bombed, friends killed, intimidated and attacked by our enemies. Why would I wish to speak of any of that?’ Alex snapped.

      ‘You could share some of your agony with us. It might help.’

      ‘I have friends who don’t care to remember painful times either,’ Cathie hastily put in, anxious to offer Alex her support.

      ‘Quite!’ he grumbled, slapping down his knife and fork and pushing aside his half-eaten meal, his tone harsh with anger.

      Dorothy cast Cathie a furious glare, as if the fault were hers that he’d abandoned his dinner, before turning with a gentle smile back to her son. ‘Then it’s even more important for you to take time to rest and recuperate. Landing yourself with the hassle of organising a wedding and finding a home as well as a new job is not a good idea right now. It’s not as if this girl is in the family way, which would be the only reason to rush headlong into marriage. At least I assume that to be the case?’ she caustically remarked.

      Shocked by the question, and feeling the food clog her throat, Cathie took a quick sip of water to stop herself from choking, an attack of nerves making her shake. Was this the moment to reveal all? She was struggling to find the rights words to explain her position when the butler, who had quietly entered the dining room, whispered something in Mrs Ryman’s ear. The woman seemed to freeze as her narrowed eyes glowered at Cathie with a flint-eyed glare.

      ‘There’s someone at the door asking for you. She has apparently brought your baby in a pram, and the child is crying for her mummy!’

      All around the table knives and forks dropped, conversation halted and every pair of eyes fell upon her like daggers.

      ‘Good God,’ Alex said. ‘You have a child? So who’s the damned father? It certainly isn’t me?’

      They were seated in the conservatory, Cathie quietly sobbing into her handkerchief. ‘I know I should have told you before now, Alex. I truly meant to. I tried on numerous occasions to summon up the courage to mention it in a letter, but was always put off by my mother. She insisted you had enough to contend with fighting a war. Also, I was still grieving, and couldn’t bear to keep going over Sal’s death.’

      ‘Your reasons for keeping it a secret are much more basic than that,’ he snarled. ‘You were obviously reluctant to admit that you’d had a baby.’

      Alex was striding back and forth, fists clenched, fury etched upon his handsome face. Cathie felt as if he were a commanding officer and she was one of his men, whom he was reprimanding for some alleged misconduct. Brushing the tears from her eyes, she whispered, ‘You aren’t listening to me, Alex. I’ve just explained that the child is my niece.’

      His glance was scathing. ‘Do you have proof of that fact?’

      ‘Such as?’

      ‘A birth certificate.’

      Cathie shook her head. ‘I’m afraid not. Sal hadn’t got around to registering the birth before she was killed.’

      ‘How very convenient.’

      ‘Heather is most definitely the daughter of my sister Sally and her husband Tony, who, as you know, were both tragically killed. The poor child is an orphan and I’m the only relative she has left in the world, save for her useless grandmother. I love her, and rather hoped you would come to adore her too. Look at what a sweetie she is.’

      Watching her aunt weep had earlier brought a rather sad expression to the baby’s round face. Now Heather was smiling as she sat happily on Cathie’s lap, rubbing her little head into her neck, obviously feeling the need for a loving cuddle. How Cathie longed for Alex to take her into his arms and offer the same sort of comfort, to somehow overcome this distance growing between them.

      ‘That child’s behaviour is appalling. I’ve never seen such a fusspot. She seems to be a right little madam.’

      ‘Heather was upset, that’s all.’ It was true the baby had been screaming and kicking quite hysterically, in something of a tantrum when Cathie had dashed to the door. Davina had looked equally distressed. Holding the teddy bear in her hand, her friend had explained how the baby had refused to eat a thing, and wouldn’t stop crying.

      ‘I swear that I would not have brought her to you otherwise. I know you didn’t want Alex to know about the child yet,’ she said, adopting a woeful expression.

      Only too aware that he stood hovering close behind her, a shocked expression on his face, and must surely have heard this remark, Cathie had hastily gathered the child in her arms and offered reassurance to Davina. ‘Don’t worry, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have left her.’