Home is Where the Heart Is. Freda Lightfoot

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.

      Just as she’d almost given up hope, a whistle sounded, making her heart bump as if in unison. Then the air was filled with choking steam as the train came puffing slowly along the track. She could barely see the passengers as they hastily disembarked, thanks to the smoke and the crowds filling the platform. Cathie could hear the cries of joy, and the clatter of heels as women ran to fling themselves in the arms of their returning heroes.

      Then like a ghost emerging from the mists of the past, she saw a vaguely familiar figure walking smartly towards her. At first sight, Cathie didn’t recognise him as she was accustomed to seeing Alex in uniform, not this dreadful demob suit with trousers that didn’t quite reach his ankles, trilby hat and a greatcoat stripped of its usual army buttons and braid. Seconds later, he was enfolding her tight against his chest, smothering her with kisses. Her heart felt as if it might explode with happiness.

      ‘Let me look at you.’ Releasing her, Alex stepped back a pace so that his gaze could roam over her, taking in her rosebud mouth, flushed cheeks and sparkling hazel eyes before sliding downwards over her slender figure. ‘Even more beautiful than I remember.’

      Glowing with joy, she gave her most bewitching smile. ‘Oh, it’s so good to see you too, Alex, I can’t quite believe you’re here at last.’ She whipped off her gloves and stroked his face as if to prove to herself that he was.

      ‘I’ve missed you too, darling,’ he said, quickly responding with yet more kisses, his stubbled chin scraping against hers.

      ‘I’ve got so much to tell you.’

      He looked down at her, his chestnut brown eyes darkening with desire. ‘We have a great deal of catching up to do, not simply involving talk,’ he said, chuckling as he slid an exploring hand over her breast. ‘How soon can we be married? I can’t wait too long. I could eat you all up here and now.’

      Cathie felt her cheeks grow hot as she gave a little giggle. ‘We can fix a date for the wedding any time you like. But I haven’t even met your parents yet, nor have you met my mother, which you are now about to do. Mam suggested I invite you for Sunday dinner, I do hope you can come?’

      ‘Not today,’ he said, looking surprised by the suggestion. ‘My mother and father are anxious to have me home. We’ll need to arrange that for some other time.’

      ‘Oh, of course!’ Even as Cathie agreed, disappointment bit deep in her. But then perhaps she hadn’t been thinking clearly. Naturally, his parents were keen to see their only son again, after all this time away fighting in a war. It was easy to forget that other families were close when her own was not. She also thought with some regret of the expense of the half shoulder of lamb she’d left roasting in the oven. ‘Can we at least walk some of the way together?’

      ‘It will be my pleasure.’ Linking her arm in his, he hitched his kitbag on to his other shoulder and they set off to walk along Deansgate.

      Cathie felt a little downhearted that, even though she was his fiancée, she had not been included in his plans for his first day home. Surely on such a special occasion she should have been allowed to share it? In all the time they’d been going out together, not once had he thought to invite her to meet his family. Alex lived on St John Street, as his father was a doctor who worked at the local hospital. Unlike where she lived, close to the Potato Wharf district, it was quite a smart area even if it was still in Castlefield. Cathie couldn’t help but wonder if that was the reason.

      For now though, she should be simply relieved to see how fit Alex looked, marching as if on parade, straight-backed with his head held high, if unshaven and his expression somewhat stern. All her anxiety and worries had evaporated in seconds on seeing him as, unlike Steve, Alex seemed perfectly normal with no sign of any injuries. After six years of war, being only nineteen when he’d been called up in 1939, he was now a grown man of vast experience. And if there was a slight sense of distance between them, surely that was to be expected after these long years apart. But it was wonderful that they were together at last. Her future secure.

      ‘I look forward to you coming some other time, at your convenience. I should warn you in advance that my mother, Rona, is not an easy person, being rather selfish, and very full of herself. She doesn’t believe in sitting still for five minutes. She has ever been obsessed with giving herself a good time, always going off somewhere: to dances, band concerts, pubs or horse racing. Having a bit of fun is how she terms it.’

      ‘There’s nothing wrong with that,’ Alex said. ‘I dreamed of doing very much the same when I was stuck out in the desert in Egypt.’

      ‘I’m sure you did,’ Cathie said, filled with remorse for having implied that living a full life was somehow wrong, even if she had only been attempting to explain her self-obsessed mother. ‘And we all had fun when peace was declared. Did you get to celebrate VE Day?’

      ‘No, I was still overseas,’ he responded grimly.

      ‘Oh, you poor thing. We went to Albert Square, everywhere ablaze with lights and hordes of people all dancing and singing ‘Roll Out the Barrel’, ‘White Cliffs of Dover’, ‘Bless ‘Em All’, and loads of other popular songs. It was