Silence fell at these words as they regarded each other quite seriously, their constantly fractured friendship resonating with a new understanding. Cathie felt her heart lift a little, as if by talking to Steve she’d slightly eased her sense of loss and abandonment. An unexpected closeness seemed to have sprung up between them. Or was that some fantasy on her part? Bringing herself back to reality, Cathie glanced up at the clock on the wall. ‘Goodness, your dinner hour is over, and I must take this little one home for her own lunch.’
As they came out of the café, chatting and laughing, Cathie was shocked to find Alex standing waiting at the door, arms folded and cold fury etched on his face.
‘So I was right, you are the father of her child!’ he yelled, and punched Steve in the jaw.
CHAPTER NINE
Cathie flew to Steve’s side as he lay sprawled on the pavement, desperate to help him to his feet, which was not easy with his artificial leg. She shouted at Alex as she did so. ‘You are absolutely wrong! I’ve explained everything about the baby, so stop this nonsense right now.’
Recovering his balance, Steve took a step back, holding up both his hands in defence. ‘I’ve never touched Cathie in that way, and I’ve done enough fighting to last a lifetime, so let’s not take this any further.’
Alex’s upper lip curled into a scornful sneer as he half turned away, before suddenly whirling about and throwing yet another ferocious punch. This time Steve managed to duck, missing it by a whisker, then, flinging himself at Alex, he grappled him to the ground.
Crowds gathered to watch as the two men battered and thumped, punched and kicked each other, rolling about on the dusty pavement. Some were cheering, others shouting out instructions to one or other of them on how to retaliate. Several times, Cathie tried to put a stop to the fight, only to be pulled back by someone attempting to keep her safe.
‘Your baby’s crying,’ a woman told her, pointing to little Heather who was sitting in her pram screaming with distress. Cathie wanted to shout that this wasn’t her baby, that Alex had no right to accuse Steve of being the father of her niece, but, gathering the child in her arms, she just sobbed.
The fight might have got even more nasty had not Mr Leeson, the manager of the Co-op, heard the commotion and come running out. Even then it took the assistance of several of the more sensible onlookers before he managed to drag the two men apart.
‘So help me, I’ll pummel your brains out if you ever sleep with her again,’ Alex roared.
‘I’ve already told you, I never touched her!’
Alex brought up his fist in a left uppercut and knocked Steve out cold.
Dear Aunt Evie was so sympathetic when Cathie called round to fill her in on this latest bad news, even though she was still busily battling for the return of her own children, which was taking far longer than she’d hoped. Cathie explained about the fight, and how Alex had accused Steve of being the father of little Heather. ‘It was dreadful. I thought for a moment he might kill Steve. We had to call a doctor to make sure he was all right. Even so, Alex obviously doesn’t love me enough to be prepared to accept the baby,’ Cathie sobbed. ‘And I love little Heather far too much to let someone else have her. What on earth can I do?’
‘Dry your eyes for a start, as you’re upsetting this little one by crying.’
‘Oh, she’s seen too much pain lately. Poor little love.’ After grabbing the handkerchief her aunt offered, Cathie quickly dabbed her eyes and managed to give a smile at Heather who was sitting on the rug with a sad expression on her plump little face. ‘Sorry, Auntie, you’re right, no more tears, I promise. I really must get a grip on myself.’ Taking a breath, she asked again, ‘So how do I deal with this problem?’
‘You could ask the authorities if you could adopt the baby yourself.’
‘Without a father? Why would they allow that?’
‘We’ve suffered a war, and men are in short supply. Besides, they surely can’t expect to put all these poor lost kids into orphanages, not when a family member is willing to adopt. Anyroad, it’s worth asking.’
Cathie did so the moment all the New Year celebrations were over, hurrying round to Children’s Services only to be coolly informed that it was not possible for her to adopt a child, not unless she was married. ‘Although you can foster your niece,’ the woman added with a more kindly smile when she’d heard the full story. ‘Then, one day, when you find the man of your dreams, you could adopt her.’
‘Oh, that would be wonderful!’ Cathie said, relieved to at least be made legally responsible for her darling niece. It put her in a much brighter state of mind. This might not be the future she’d planned or hoped for, but if she was forced to choose between the baby and Alex, then there could be no question about where her responsibility lay, or a large part of her heart. Giving Heather up for someone else to adopt, or dumping her in an orphanage, was most definitely not on her agenda. Although, she might still secretly hope and pray that she could persuade Alex to change his mind.
It would take some weeks to deal with all the necessary paperwork, but having resolved the problem of her lovely niece, Cathie went next to see Davina. She readily accepted her friend’s apology and offered forgiveness for revealing the truth to Alex. ‘I’m sure you did your best for the baby. I really don’t blame you for coming,’ Cathie told her, managing a smile.
‘The little girl was so upset, she simply wouldn’t stop crying. I felt I had to bring her to you, and could only hope you’d got around to telling him by then.’
‘I’m afraid I hadn’t, as we’d had no time alone to talk. But Alex is certainly aware of the facts now, and Brenda thinks he might always have reacted in this way. Sadly, he is clearly not interested in children, is convinced she is my child, and has accused me of sleeping with another man.’
Davina raised her beautifully pencilled brows in surprise. ‘So the marriage is off then?’
‘It would seem so.’
‘Well, I’d say if that’s his attitude, you’re better off without him. Forget him.’
How could she forget him when she loved him so, Cathie thought, misery closing in on her yet again. But, making no response to this remark, she buried her hurt feelings by changing the subject and asking Davina about her own family. ‘Did you get to see them over New Year, if not Christmas?’ she asked.
‘It wasn’t possible for me to find the money to pay the fare for such a long journey. Besides, I left home years ago so it’s not as if we’re close any more.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that. How old were you when you left home, Davina? Was there some sort of problem?’
‘Aren’t there always with families?’ her friend said, and quickly changed the subject to talk about how busy they’d been on the market stall over Christmas, and how she felt in need of a good rest.
Her answers were as vague as ever, but Cathie was at least thankful that their friendship remained intact.
Watching her so-called new friend wheel the baby away, Davina smiled to herself with satisfaction. What a naïve idiot Cathie was. Davina had never understood why Alex had been so obsessed with returning to the girl after nearly two years apart, particularly considering the many nights he’d spent in her own bed since they got together many months ago. She’d believed in her heart that he loved her, not this one-time fiancée of his, and that one day soon they would marry. Davina saw herself as the innocent victim in this ridiculous love-triangle, not Cathie Morgan.
He hadn’t even written to the girl much in recent years, let alone gone to see her, although whenever he spoke of Cathie, he said what a wonderful person she was. True, she was a pretty young woman, if somewhat shy and innocent, irresistible qualities to a man like Alex Ryman. No doubt she’d attempted to make a strong case for him to accept little Heather, but thankfully failed.
Davina was delighted her plan seemed to have worked and she’d won the battle to convince Alex that adopting this unknown child would be a bad mistake, which should put paid to any hopes Ca
thie had of a marriage between them. Nevertheless, she was already playing with further ideas, just in case he got it into his head to take the girl back.
Brenda might share her old friend’s faith in Alex, but Cathie’s mother clearly nursed serious doubts, which should help. Whatever steps Davina decided to take in order to permanently shatter this foolish girl’s dreams, though, she must tread carefully. It certainly helped that he could never find it in himself to resist what she had to offer.
Lighting a cigarette, Davina recalled with pleasure the moment he discovered she’d moved to Castlefield, which surely proved that her love for him was greater. She’d deliberately travelled to Crewe, carefully checked the time of his train, due to arrive at Manchester Victoria on the dot of eleven, so that she could meet him before Cathie did. Progressing slowly along the corridor of the rocking train, she’d carefully searched every compartment for the one man she was desperate to find. Packed with soldiers returning home, it had not been an easy task. Yet she knew Alex was in one of those carriages.
Davina had walked the entire length of the train, chatting and laughing with scores of servicemen when suddenly she’d heard his voice. She would have known the sound of his rumbling laughter anywhere. Smoothing down her hair, she tapped on the compartment door and, when his startled gaze met hers, gave him a seductive little smile.
Seconds later, he was by her side. ‘What in tarnation are you doing here?’
‘I’ve come to welcome you home, darling,’ she said and, wrapping her arms about his neck, gave him a long deep kiss, which brought forth a chorus of cheers and a huge applause from his buddies. Putting his arm about her waist, he drew her further along the corridor, out of sight of his comrades. Then, pulling her into an area between carriages, he lifted her into his arms and began to almost devour her with the urgency of his kisses, her breasts crushed against his hard chest. Triumph soared in her as she helped him fumble aside her coat and skirts and hitch her a little higher. Within minutes he was inside her, bumping hard against her hips as she cried out in ecstasy.
‘Lord, that was good,’ he sighed, when finally he released her to catch his breath. ‘I can’t quite believe you actually came, or that we’re doing this here on a public train.’
Chuckling softly, she stroked his jaw, noticing how it bristled with the start of an unshaved beard. Poor man, he seemed to forget such obvious routines these days. ‘Why wouldn’t I? We love each other, Alex, and I need you. You do still want me, don’t you?’
‘Of course I do. The time we’ve spent together has saved my sanity these last months. But you know that I’m promised to a sweet young girl.’
‘I think you mean to a naïve idiot. Forget her. Why would you need Cathie Morgan when you now have me?’
‘Our relationship is a bit different. Besides, promises must be kept.’
‘Why should they be? I’m the one you truly love. I want you to choose me, not her.’
Laughing, he pulled her back into his arms to fondle her breasts. ‘Maybe I don’t have to choose, since I love both of you, if in slightly different ways. What’s wrong with that?’ And as he started to kiss her some more, Davina elected not to dispute his argument, much as she might wish to. Her need was far too great to take the risk of him choosing this so-called sweet young thing he hadn’t seen for years, and who was now a beautiful young woman.
Later, as she got off the train at Salford, before it reached Victoria where Cathie was waiting for him, he slipped a few coins and a packet of cigarettes into her pocket, making her laugh with delight. Smiling at these memories of their lovemaking, she thought what a generous man he was. She’d walked away revelling in the scent of him upon her skin, the burn of his kisses on her lips and the delicious ache in certain parts of her anatomy, which proved how very much he needed her. Always thrilling.
Now she simply had to convince him that not all promises needed to be kept, and she was the one he couldn’t live without. With luck, and a bit more effort on her part, this time she fully intended to win more from him than the odd night in his bed.
Exactly as he’d planned, Alex took to going out every evening. He would go to the cinema or theatre, to a club, football match or a pub to meet friends and drink. Sometimes he’d go alone, although Davina would often accompany him. He’d been seeing her regularly ever since she’d come to meet him on the train just before Christmas, and they’d joke and have fun together. Living life to the full was what he so loved to do, and he fully intended to continue doing so. There’d been nothing much in the way of entertainment out in the desert, save for those far too short leaves he’d spent in Cairo, so he felt that he deserved to live the life he’d been deprived of for years.
He did miss his army mates as he’d quite enjoyed army life: if not the discipline, at least the routine, the good meals, uniform and regular pay that arrived in his bank account through little effort on his part, and with no great danger involved. The camp was once bombarded, but he’d managed to evade injury by fleeing.
And he certainly had no wish to return to a boring desk job or dull domestic routine, or to be cooped up in a world of wrecked houses with dreadful food. A part of him almost regretted that the war had ended, or that he’d ever left the army. The life that he’d once known here in Manchester had gone, the city, like the country, had completely changed and become much more bureaucratic. Alex felt he’d suffered enough of rules and regulations, and disliked having too many decisions to make.
Even Cathie was no longer the pretty, adoring girl she’d once been, but a firm young woman with a mind of her own. She was still quite lovely, but not exactly glamorous, as she tended to favour easy-to-wear, more practical clothes. Very boring of her. As for this tale about that child being her niece, it was such a common excuse he really had no patience with it. Even if it were true, Cathie should have told him long since, and asked his permission to keep the baby, not made the decision on her own without his consent. He really was sick to death of his opinion being ignored.
Tonight Alex was in the Pack Horse, one of his favourite pubs in Castlefield, having a good old moan about the issues he was facing with a bloke he’d just met. He’d introduced himself as Eddie, and was quite flashily dressed in a wide-lapelled suit and brightly coloured tie, sporting a trilby hat tilted rakishly over his forehead. They were sharing a grumble about regulations, which seemed to be dominating everything.
‘I went to the butcher’s the other day to buy some sausages for my mother,’ Alex told him, ‘and having queued for the better part of an hour the bloke refused to sell me any, even though he had plenty left, because I wasn’t one of his registered customers. I nearly throttled him there and then, only an elderly woman poked me in the backside with her umbrella and told me to buzz off. What a world!’
‘That’s the way things are nowadays,’ Eddie said, slurping on his beer. ‘But folk have learned to tip shop assistants in order to get special service. Stuff will then be kept under the counter for ‘em.’
‘Is that legal?’
‘It’s not illegal. The line between the two has become a lot less well defined. Folk are weary of regulations, particularly now the war is over, and happy to turn a blind eye. Besides, it’s a good way for shopkeepers to hang on to their well-off customers. Salmon and peaches are generally supplied that way. Just because you can’t see what you want on display doesn’t mean summat isn’t available.’
‘There seems to be a great deal I need to learn after so long overseas. The country is in such a dreadful mess that I’m beginning to ask myself, was the war worth it?’ Alex grimly remarked.
Eddie laughed. ‘It is if you can make good money out of it.’
‘How can you possibly make money out of a war?’ Alex enquired sarcastically.
The man tapped his long nose. ‘That’d be telling, but I certainly know how to get hold of as many sausages as I fancy, and at a decent price.’
Alex frowned, puzzling over this remark. ‘Is that so? And how would you m
anage that with rationing tighter than ever, to the extent that the government is threatening to ration bread and potatoes too, or so I’m told?’
‘It’s all about knowing the right people,’ Eddie explained. ‘Whether you’re looking for spare parts for your car, petrol, nylons, perfume, cigarettes, alcohol, owt that takes yer fancy, I usually know a chap who can supply it.’
‘At a price, I presume?’
Eddie chuckled. ‘Well, I have to make a profit. That’s how I earn my living.’
‘Is it indeed?’ Alex looked him over, then his mouth twisted in an interested little smile. ‘And it looks as if it’s a good one.’
‘It certainly is.’
The man was a wide-boy, a wheeler and dealer, or ‘spiv’ as they were often called, but judging by the cigar he was smoking and the classiness of his clothes, he clearly did have money. ‘As an ex-servicemen with no job to go to, I’m looking for a decent income myself, and am equally pissed off with bureaucracy. Can I get you another pint of beer? I’d like to know more.’
CHAPTER TEN
Cathie lived in hope of Alex calling in to say how much he was missing her and that he wanted her back. But, as each day passed without any sign of him, she became increasingly despondent that he never would. She felt lost without either a job or her fiancé, spent the mornings looking for work, and the afternoons walking the baby, thinking it would be good for both of them to be out in the fresh air. The cold days of January were passing, if achingly slow and endlessly boring.
This afternoon she passed Potato Wharf with its maze of iron and brick railway arches, the Bridgewater and Rochdale canals sliding darkly beneath. Rails and posts circled the giant basin, and even little Heather, sitting up in her baby harness, seemed fascinated to watch the swirl of water below.
Why couldn’t Alex be as spirited and brave as Steve? Had he led too pampered a life? Perhaps his family – his imperious father, arrogant mother and snobby sister – were all secretly pleased that he’d called an end to his engagement with a girl from the rougher, more industrial part of Castlefield. Thelma had made her opinion of Manchester all too clear, making no allowances for the aftermath of war. But why did being born in Jaipur in India make her a better person?
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