Cathie frowned. ‘Not really, I always find her to be very lively.’ But a part of her was worrying over whether her niece would even remember her after being apart for over two weeks. She was but a toddler, after all. Little Heather was a child of some intelligence and with an increasing sense of independence, who might well blame her aunt for allowing her to be taken away by a stranger. Her resentment could well show itself in sulks or a tantrum, which surely wouldn’t go down well.
With some trepidation, Cathie climbed into the Ford motor car, as ordered by the social worker, to be driven to the orphanage. They rode out past the flattened warehouses in Piccadilly, along Market Street and Blackfriars, her mind in such turmoil that even the bright sunny June day failed to warm her.
On arrival, the matron led the pair of them along the passage to the playroom, Cathie’s gaze lighting upon little Heather the moment they entered. The toddler was sitting in a corner all alone, her arms wrapped about her knees and her plump little face a picture of sadness. Hearing the door bang shut behind the visitors, she glanced up to gaze across at her aunt in startled wonder. She at once jumped to her feet and came running across the room, squealing with delight.
‘Mummy, mummy, mummy!’ she cried, and flung her arms around Cathie’s legs.
Never had Heather called her by that name before, and the feel and sweet smell of the beloved child as Cathie sank to her knees to gather her in her arms made her weep with joy.
Mrs Simpson, along with the matron and the rest of the staff, stood watching with huge smiles on their faces.
‘Mummy has come to take you home,’ she announced, and Heather buried her face into Cathie’s neck, clinging to her so tight it was as if she never meant to let her go.
Alex had been keeping a close eye on Cathie ever since she stormed out, his rage increasing as he silently stalked her from a safe distance. He needed to check what exactly the stupid woman was up to. He watched as she visited the office at children’s services time and time again, eventually to be driven off in a car by that social worker person. Irritated that he couldn’t follow, not yet being able to afford a car of his own, he hung around by the River Medlock instead, in case she returned home. Eventually, it dawned on him that he was waiting in the wrong place, but by the time he reached the area around Brenda’s flat, it was almost dusk. Losing patience, he took himself off to the Pack Horse for a pint of bitter.
If only women would do as they were told, life would be so much simpler. He was infuriated that she’d discovered his ploy. That flaming social worker had no right to show her his letter, which was quite obviously what the woman had done.
As he spent the next morning lying in late, due to an indulgent evening with his mates at the pub, it was late afternoon when he finally spotted her. She came walking out of the Christmas card factory with her friend, holding the child by a rein, as she trotted along beaming with happiness. That was exactly how the kid should be treated, like a dog on a lead.
Holding out her arms, she cried, ‘Carry, carry,’ and laughing, Cathie picked her up to sit the child astride her hip as she walked away.
So now Cathie had managed to get the baby back without marrying him, which meant all his efforts had been in vain. His rage escalated all the more.
He’d never intended to keep the child for ever, just long enough to get his hands on her bloody money, which he was far more in need of than some waif and stray. Once Cathie had fallen pregnant he would have used that as an excuse to pack this alleged niece off to some orphanage or other. Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to happen now, so he’d need to devise some other plan to get his hands on the cash. Ever a man with ideas, he was quite certain he’d think of something. In the meantime, he would continue to keep a close eye on her every move.
And he could at least sell off that diamond ring she’d tossed back at him.
It was as the two girls were sitting down to supper one night that Brenda brought up the question of Davina. ‘Did you ever find out what happened to her?’ she asked.
Cathie shook her head. ‘I’ve no idea. Why?’
Brenda was silent for a moment as she tucked into her sausage and mash, then gave Cathie an apologetic little smile. ‘I appreciate the fact you may not be interested, but in view of what Alex has done to you, I’m wondering if he had anything to do with the fact that Davina has vanished.’
Cathie felt something lurch inside her, like a shaft of guilt or fear grasping her heart. ‘I did wonder where she might be, and if she’s safely given birth. But what are you suggesting?’ Was Brenda hiding something from her? she wondered. ‘What have you found out?’
Heaving a little sigh, her friend said, ‘Actually, I called on her landlady to ask if she knew where she was living, and discovered that Davina had been taken to a home for unmarried mothers.’
‘Oh, well that’s all to the good, isn’t it? At least she would have been somewhere safe and protected when the baby was born.’
‘Those are not always terribly friendly or happy places to be, often ruled by a rod of iron, and they allow women little say over what happens to their child once they do give birth.’
Cathie wondered how Brenda knew this. She had once mentioned losing a child, but not quite how that had come about. She’d rather assumed it had been stillborn, but what if it had been adopted? It didn’t seem her place to ask. Cathie was all too aware there were some matters her friend preferred to keep secret. ‘She surely wouldn’t stay there fore ver though, so why are you so concerned for her?’
‘I wondered if perhaps she might be regretting having fallen for Alex’s charms, as much as you do. Also, Cathie, wouldn’t you like to know exactly what happened between the two of them, and how she ended up in such a place even though she’d been led to believe they were about to be married?’
‘I believed I was to marry him too, until she told me otherwise,’ Cathie said, a swell of worry starting to grow within her despite the devastation that had caused. ‘It’s certainly possible that Alex may well have used Davina too, if in a different way. Maybe we should check that all is well with her.’
Brenda smiled. ‘What a lovely, kind person you are. I have the address, so why don’t we pay her a visit?’
‘Yes, let’s.’
Strangely, the nuns did not welcome them. ‘That young lady is no longer with us,’ said the sister, rather tartly when they asked to speak with Davina.
‘Oh, she has left then. Where did she go?’ Brenda politely enquired.
‘We have no idea as the silly girl did a bunk with a friend. A most foolish thing to do with the baby due only a few weeks later.’
‘I wonder why she did that. Wasn’t she happy here?’
‘I wouldn’t know,’ came the sharp reply. ‘She was certainly showing little remorse for her sins.’
Cathie quickly interjected, sensing Brenda could say something she might later regret. ‘So who is this friend? Do you know where she lives?’
‘She lived here,’ snapped the nun. ‘Now they’ve both left and are no longer our responsibility,’ whereupon she closed the door in their faces.
They looked at each other in dismay. ‘“Curiouser, and curiouser,” cried Alice,’ Brenda remarked dryly.
Life settled into a pleasant and orderly routine with Cathie and Brenda working happily together at the factory, sharing the housework in the flat, as well as the cost of rent and shopping. They enjoyed little in the way of a social life, apart from the odd Saturday matinee at the flicks, as Cathie devoted herself to the care of her beloved niece.
‘Do feel free to go out with other friends. There’s no reason for you to be tied to this little one,’ Cathie assured her, but Brenda would generally shrug her shoulders and insist she was quite happy. ‘After all the harassment my brother-in-law has given me, right now I feel in dire need of a little peace and quiet.’
The pair of them would sometimes walk by the Rochdale or Bridgewater canal, enjoying a lovely day out in the summer sunshine, as they we
re doing today, being a Sunday.
As they strolled along the towpath, smiling at the waterhens bobbing about, Cathie said, ‘Did you know that the building of this canal began way back in 1759 by the third Duke of Bridgewater? He employed a famous engineer, James Brindley, to build it for him, as he needed these waterways in order to transport coal from his mines. It crosses the River Irwell, and links up with the Manchester Ship Canal as well as with the Rochdale Canal and others. It was the first of many. So began the start of the canal age and a profitable industrial period for Manchester.’
‘I’m aware the canals have a rich history, but how do you know so much?’
‘My dad told me endless stories when he used to take me out in his barge. His job was to transport goods from the docks to the warehouses. More and more warehouses had been built, although on occasions they’d be damaged by fire. He always had a fire in the bow of his barge, which he would put out when he sailed underneath a warehouse to unload. Not good on a cold January morning, but it was the rule. You had to be safe. After he left, I missed going out on such trips with him,’ she said with a sad smile. ‘I bet he’s still sailing a boat some place or other. And I still love walking along the towpaths, and looking at barges and narrowboats. Perhaps it helps me to remember him.’
‘That’s lovely,’ Brenda said, then with a shiver added, ‘but maybe not when there are clouds gathering. It looks like rain and the wind is whistling towards us under the canal bridge. Time to go home, I think.’ As a spatter of rain began to fall right on cue, Brenda spun around. Unfortunately, her foot slipped on the damp path, and she might well have fallen had not one of the boatmen busily tethering his boat nearby, managed to catch her.
‘Whoops, take care. We don’t want another accident.’
‘Sorry, silly me,’ Brenda said, thanking him.
Cathie added her own thanks, then asked, ‘What do you mean by another accident, has there been one already today?’
‘Nay, not today, thank goodness, but a young lass was found a month or so ago under a bridge on the Rochdale Canal. She must have fallen in and drowned, poor soul. So do take care how you walk on these slippy towpaths. And learn to swim, just to be safe.’
‘Goodness, and there was me thinking canals were lovely safe places,’ Brenda said, giving a wry smile as they walked on. ‘But after what you and that boatman have told me, I can see they are not at all safe. Fortunately, I can swim. How about you?’
Cathie shook her head. ‘Never felt the urge to learn, but maybe I should. In fact, Heather and I could learn together at the Corporation Baths on New Quay Street.’
‘Good idea. I’ll come with you and teach you.’
This became one of their regular weekly jaunts, sharing the cost of threepence for the baths, and twopence for a towel, since money was still a little tight. Cathie felt deeply grateful to have a good friend like Brenda, even if her other one-time friend, as well as her fiancé, had betrayed her. At times she would stand staring bleakly out over the bombsites as sadness swamped her. Their on and off engagement had been an absolute nightmare, and all because of that dratted war. Now, her hopes for marriage with the man she’d loved were quite dead. Alex had cheated on her, used and abused her, then attempted to deprive her of this precious child for unspeakably selfish reasons.
There could be no question of her ever forgiving him for such callous behaviour. However sad that made her feel in her heart, their relationship was most definitely over.
But then Cathie would watch little Heather chuckling as she played, and her heart would swell with love and happiness. The little girl would shout, ‘Mummy, look,’ chuckling with delight as she showed off something she’d built with her bricks, or drawn with crayons, or how she could make her precious teddy dance across the rug. Cathie could barely let the child out of her sight. Marriage, she decided, was most definitely not for her. But what did that matter when she had this adorable child to love and cuddle?
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
It was early August and Cathie had called in at the Co-op on her way home from work one Friday afternoon to do a bit of shopping, as she liked to do. It was a hot, sultry day and she was trying to decide whether she could afford to buy a tin of salmon to go with the salad for tea. It was a miracle to see such an item on the shelf, as shortages were still common. Would it ever end? ‘We have tins of tuna if that price is too high,’ a familiar voice behind her said.
Whirling about in startled delight, she could hardly believe her eyes. ‘Steve, is it really you?’
‘I’m afraid it is.’
She felt an urge to give him a hug, but managed to restrain herself. ‘Oh, how lovely to see you again. I thought you were working for a printers’ in Birmingham.’
‘I was, but now I’m back.’ He laughed.
‘You’re looking well,’ she told him, feeling a strange shyness ripple through her at the sight of his smiling face. He looked different somehow, no longer as pale or as thin as he’d been when last she’d seen him, nor his blue-grey eyes quite so bleak.
Mr Leeson, the manager, came to stand beside him, giving him a playful slap on his shoulder. ‘Hello, Cathie, it’s good to see your old friend again, eh? I remembered what you told me about that fight not being Steve’s fault, so I’ve given him his job back.’
Steve grinned. ‘Actually, it’s only for the summer, as I’ve gained myself a place at a teacher training college, starting September.’
‘Oh, Steve, that’s wonderful. I’m so pleased for you.’ The joy that had exploded within her on seeing him began to instantly fade as Cathie realised this meant he would be leaving again soon.
He glanced about him. ‘Where’s little Heather?’
‘With Brenda at the flat.’
He frowned. ‘Not with your husband then?’
‘Ah, I think you are a little out of date on my news.’
‘Can’t wait to here it.’
They went to sit in their favourite café just a few doors down to enjoy a cup of tea while Cathie filled him in on recent events. ‘I can’t say I’m surprised by what you’ve told me,’ he admitted, when she reached the part where Alex had written an anonymous letter to children’s services accusing her of immoral behaviour. ‘Although I’m seriously appalled and angry on your behalf, particularly for his betrayal. I always thought the chap was a liar, so it doesn’t surprise me that he’s also a cheat and a fraudster. Think yourself fortunate to have found out before he actually put a ring on your finger.’
The mention of a ring brought back the memory of her bumping the pram into that dear old man on Oldham Street, and she smiled. ‘Certainly not a wedding ring, and I gave him his engagement ring back. So yes, you’re right, life would have been much more difficult had I been stupid enough to marry him. What was I thinking of to be so naïve?’
‘Love does strange things to people,’ he said, with a wry smile.
‘I suppose that’s true. What did you mean when you said you knew that he was a liar?’
‘Ah, well, the fact is that I saw him with another woman in the Pack Horse one night.’
Cathie blinked as she stared at him in shock. ‘Who was it?’
‘No one I recognised.’
‘It could have been his sister, Thelma.’
Shaking his head, Steve said, ‘It obviously wasn’t, as he was kissing her quite thoroughly, and not in a way a man would kiss his sister.’
Cathie’s heart plummeted yet again. ‘Then it must have been Davina. So why didn’t you tell me?’
‘In retrospect, I can see that I probably should have done, but I wasn’t sure it would be the right thing to do at the time. You were very defensive of him as you quite rightly felt you were helping Alex to recover from the traumas of war. However, he lied about that too.’
‘In what way?’
‘He may have been stationed in the desert out in Egypt, but not on the front line. He was a cook in the mess tent. I found this out when I met one of his old mates at the British Leg
ion. Ryman resented being treated as a mere labourer, but apparently had no hope of promotion because he was deemed to be a coward at heart. He wasn’t even a good cook, spending most of his time peeling potatoes, chopping veg and scouring pans.’
Cathie stared at Steve in stunned silence for some seconds. ‘But he’s a bully who feels the need to be in control.’
‘Bullies are often cowards when faced with real danger. That’s why they enjoy lording it over women whom they view as inferior, or they attempt to make them feel as if they are. In my opinion that shows how little he really knew you,’ he said with a grin, leaning closer so that Cathie could feel the warmth of his breath against her cheek, which sparked a ray of happiness to light up within.
‘It’s true that he did seem to rob me of my confidence with the way he gave orders and attempted to control me, behaving rather like a sergeant major at times. He was constantly demanding my pity while making out he was traumatised from fighting, not peeling spuds. Lord, what a fool I’ve been. I should have questioned him more, although we women are advised not to do that. So how did he come to find himself in such a menial position?’
‘Apparently he never made any effort to improve his skills, being far too self-obsessed to care about others, or take any risks.’
‘So his father was right about him. He’s certainly a puzzle,’ Cathie admitted. ‘For some time I’ve been wondering where he’s getting his income from, since as far as I’m aware he still doesn’t have a job.’
‘Really? That’s interesting. Judging by what he told the Co-op manager, I have some suspicions on that score, which may or may not be correct. I’ll make a few enquiries on the quiet and see what I can find out. Now let’s stop talking about that idiot. Tell me more about yourself, and this new job of yours.’
He was gazing into her eyes so deeply that Cathie felt as if her heart was doing cartwheels. ‘Oh, it’s great to have you back, Steve. I’ve missed you so much.’
‘That’s good to hear,’ he said, the husky tone of his voice resonating within her. ‘I’ve missed you too.’
Home Is Where the Heart Is Page 21
