carefully negotiating the pram between the crowds of shoppers, Cathie went to meet up with her two best friends for a snack at the market café, as they loved to do on a Saturday. After greeting each other with hugs and a few moans about the cold weather, the three of them gave their orders then sat drinking tea together while Cathie told her good news.
‘Oh, that’s wonderful,’ Brenda said, instantly sharing her friend’s excitement.
‘When does he arrive?’ Davina politely enquired.
Davina Gibson, who worked on a second-hand clothes stall, was new to the area, having moved into Castlefield just a couple of months ago. Cathie had met her while buying some clothes for baby Heather. She’d been sympathetic of her loss, and so helpful in allowing Cathie to negotiate a low price on everything she needed, they’d become firm friends ever since. Brenda Stuart, on the other hand, was a best friend of some years’ standing, as she and Cathie had been in the same class at school all those years ago, and worked together at the rubber factory producing tyres for motor cars, army vehicles and trucks.
Both these women had been left widowed by the war, as had so many others. Davina was something of a beauty with her voluptuous figure, long dark hair, green eyes beneath winged brows, and full lips. While dear Brenda claimed to be a plain country girl with scraggy brown hair, plump figure and puffy cheeks. But her round face nearly always wore a smile, and there’d generally be a twinkle in her downward-sloping dark eyes.
‘I’m not sure, but in time for Christmas, or so he hopes. It’s so exciting. I can hardly wait to see him again.’
‘Have you set a date for the wedding?’ Davina asked, the corner of her mouth twisting into what might pass for a smile. She wasn’t the most exuberant or lively friend Cathie might have hoped for, being slightly cool and distant. Whatever she’d suffered during the war had clearly badly affected her.
‘Not yet, but I know Alex is keen for us to marry as soon as possible.’
‘I do hope I receive an invitation,’ Brenda said, eyes sparkling at the prospect.
‘If and when it happens,’ Davina added.
‘Of course it will happen, fairly soon, I hope. How would you both feel about being bridesmaids? I have some lengths of parachute silk, which Mam managed to buy cheap from the mill. It has one or two flaws in it, which is disastrous for a parachute, but will scarcely show in a dress. We could sew them together.’
Brenda whooped with joy. ‘That would be wonderful, so long as you teach me how. Never was much good at sewing but I’m willing to learn.’
Looking slightly stunned by this request, Davina murmured, ‘Oh, that is so kind of you to ask me, Cathie, but I’m not sure I could cope with attending a wedding so soon after losing my own husband.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t think of that. I’ve no wish to upset you.’
‘When and how did you lose him, darling?’ Brenda asked. ‘You never did tell us.’
Davina’s lips tightened. ‘I don’t care to speak of it.’
‘Ah, I can fully sympathise with that feeling,’ Brenda agreed. ‘Painful things have happened in my life that I cannot bear to remember either. I’ve locked them in a box in my mind, never to open them again. However, sometimes it helps to talk.’ When no response came, Brenda leaned over the pram to tickle the baby’s nose, making her giggle. ‘So what about this little one, Cathie? Have you told Alex that you now think of her as your own?’
‘No, not yet,’ Cathie admitted with some reluctance. ‘I told him of Sal’s death and that we were safe, of course, but didn’t go into any details about her child.’
‘Why ever not?’
Taking a bite of the cheese rarebit the waitress had just brought her, Cathie took her time to chew on it for a moment before answering. Her old friend knew her better than most, how she tended to be far too cautious and wary of making a mistake in life. She’d been this way ever since watching her parents’ marriage collapse after years of rows. Having Sal to cuddle her close in bed as they listened to them yelling and screaming at each other had been the only way to deal with her misery. The sisters had made a pact never to involve themselves in these arguments, and never to discuss what they’d heard.
Giving a pragmatic shrug, she said, ‘Letters to the Front need to be upbeat and cheerful. Mine to Alex were generally asking how he was coping, and chatting a little about myself, which was what he wanted to hear. I put in no bad news that might depress him. Besides, like Davina, I’d no wish to talk about Sal’s death.’
Davina said, ‘Keeping silent about painful subjects may be commonplace in these difficult times, but being open and honest with Alex about what you hope to do for the baby is surely very necessary.’
‘I’m afraid she has a point there,’ Brenda agreed. ‘Did he never ask about the child?’
Cathie frowned, struggling to remember. It had indeed been painful, a time of complete anguish. The weeks following Sal’s death had passed in something of a blur, almost as if she were locked behind a pane of frosted glass and not part of the real world at all. ‘I don’t think he did. But then I’m not certain I ever mentioned that she’d given birth to a daughter, as Heather was barely a month old when her mummy died. My memory of that time is very hazy. Then Mam kept putting me off, insisting it wasn’t right to dump this problem upon him when he had enough to deal with fighting a war.’
‘I’m sure he did have enough on his plate,’ Davina agreed. ‘Still, he does need to know, so the sooner you tell him the better.’
‘I’m ashamed to say that the longer I left it, the harder it became to broach the subject. I could never quite find the courage, and finally decided it would be better to wait and tell him in person, once he is home and can see for himself how adorable she is.’
Smiling down at the baby, Brenda gave her cheek a gentle stroke. ‘You might be right. She certainly is adorable, how could anyone resist her?’
‘Mam is not convinced Alex ever will accept her, which is absolute nonsense. He’s a real gentleman, so why wouldn’t he?’
‘Men can be a bit sniffy about such matters, certainly where children are concerned,’ Davina pointed out, rubbing a hand over her face, which Cathie noticed was suddenly looking rather pale and strained. What other problems did she have? she wondered. Her new friend’s past life was something of a mystery as she was reluctant to speak of the war, not unusual these days. Even so, Cathie had made several attempts to ask Davina about her past, where she’d lived before, what job she’d done, and what had happened to her. But for some reason she always avoided answering such questions. And, as she was still grieving for the loss of her husband, Cathie had decided not to pursue the matter for fear of upsetting her further. Their shared grief was what had cemented their friendship in the first place. Just as her own reluctance not to keep going over Sal’s death was perhaps the main reason why she had neglected to tell Alex the whole story.
Brenda, however, was the absolute opposite. Despite having lived in France during the German occupation, and becoming one of many British women arrested and confined, apparently for no other reason than her nationality, she firmly believed that talking about problems helped you to cope better. Even so, Cathie was aware of occasions when Brenda too would clam shut and find it impossible to speak of past pain, as she herself had just admitted.
‘I
