Home Is Where the Heart Is (21 page)

Perhaps she’d walk over to Shudehill fruit and vegetable market later, and see if she could find any bananas for little Heather. She’d heard tell that there were now some available, if you were lucky. As the music ended, she swung the pram around and went bang into a man who’d obviously been standing right behind her. ‘Oh, goodness, I’m so sorry. I hope I haven’t hurt you.’

‘Nay it’s my fault, dearie. I were standing too close.’

Alarmed by the man’s age and the way he was bending down to hold his knee, Cathie helped him away from the crowds to sit on a low wall just off the main street, dragging the pram behind her as she did so. Then she began to gently massage the knee for him. He was grey-haired, stockily built with a ruddy complexion, and quite old. Cathie didn’t have the nerve to ask him to pull up the thick tweed trousers he was wearing to examine the knee for any bruising, but she did help him to stretch and bend his leg to check it was all right. ‘Is that helping or making it worse?’

‘Much better, dearie, thank you.’

‘Maybe you should go to the chemist or a doctor to get it
checked, or I could run and fetch one for you?’ Panic and guilt was overwhelming her, and the baby was beginning to moan and whine, as was her wont when ignored.

‘There’s really no need. I’ll be fine in a moment, once I’ve had a bit of a rest. That’s a beautiful ring yer wearing.’

Cathie smiled as she flipped up her hand to admire it again with pride. ‘Isn’t it just? It was given to me by my fiancé when he proposed. Such a thrill.’

‘You look a right bobby-dazzler. Expensive too, by the looks of it.’

Cathie laughed. ‘I very much doubt it.’

‘Congratulations on your engagement, and thanks for your care of me. You’ve been most kind. What’s your name, dearie?’

Cathie smiled as she told him, but then little Heather began to cry and wail even louder, perhaps feeling hungry as it was well past her dinner time. She rushed to give her a little cuddle and try to settle her.

‘And your young man?’

No longer able to hear him over the hubbub little Heather was making, she gave a little smile and a sigh. ‘Are you sure you’re going to be all right? It’s time for my little niece to be fed, so I must be on my way.’

‘Ah, of course. She’s a lovely little thing. I’ll be fine, you go and feed her.’

‘Good day to you, sir, and take care.’

And giving him a cheery wave, Cathie bustled off, aware that he continued to sit on the wall watching her for some
time, or maybe still resting his knee. But what a nice old man he was.

It was early one Friday evening as she was getting baby Heather ready for bed that there came a knock on the front door. Rona was out with her mate Tommy at The Donkey, and Alex on his usual pub crawl.

‘Now who can that be?’ Cathie asked the small infant, sitting her down on the rug as she went to answer it. It was unusual for anyone to knock. Some folk might give a light tap, but generally they’d walk straight in saying, ‘Hello, it’s only me.’

This time a complete stranger was standing on the doorstep, a woman of about fifty in a smart coat and hat. She glanced at a piece of paper in her hand. ‘Are you Miss Catherine Morgan?’

‘I am, can I help you?’

‘My name is Marjorie Simpson, and I’m a social worker. May I come in?’

‘Of course.’ Cathie dutifully led her into the living room, feeling slightly puzzled about why this woman was here. ‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ she politely offered, showing the woman to a chair by the fire.

Instead, she went straight to the baby and picked her up from the rug. ‘I take it this is your niece.’

‘She’s our little Heather, yes, and quite adorable, don’t you think?’

The woman did not respond to Cathie’s question. ‘I’ve been informed that you are living with a man to whom you are not married. No foster mother is allowed to behave in such an immoral manner, so I’m afraid that has to end now.’ And giving a brisk nod of her head she walked out the door, taking the baby with her.

A
s the woman carried Heather away, Cathie dropped everything and scuttled after her. ‘What are you doing? Where are you taking her?’ she shouted. But there was a Ford motor car waiting at the door with its engine running and, within seconds, the social worker had climbed in and the driver roared away. Cathie ran after it the entire length of the street, screaming for the car to stop, much to the curiosity and alarm of neighbours who all came out to see what was going on.

She was running so fast she tripped over one of the ruts in the road and went flying, bashing her knee on the cobbles. Utterly devastated, Cathie limped back home, too distressed to speak to anyone or explain what had happened. Besides, it could have been any one of these neighbours, or so-called friends, who had reported this alleged immorality.

It was midnight by the time Rona arrived home, and Cathie was still sitting sobbing in the kitchen. ‘This is all your fault,’ she yelled at her mother, after she’d explained what had happened. ‘Now she’s been taken from me
because someone has reported I’m an immoral woman who is sleeping with him.
Which isn’t true!
If you’d never invited Alex to come and live here, Heather would still be safely tucked up in her cot.’

Even Rona looked shocked. ‘Nay, chuck, I were only trying to help you two get back together, and look at that ring, it worked.’

‘No it hasn’t,’ Cathie snapped, anger pulsating through her.

She was seriously beginning to question whether she still wanted to be his wife. If asked to choose between marriage with Alex or keeping little Heather, she would surely choose her lovely niece, wouldn’t she? But she hadn’t been given that choice. And why did she feel so torn?

She spent a sleepless night in floods of tears, her anger mounting to more ferocious levels, as Alex didn’t return until the early hours. ‘What am I do to?’ she cried, rushing into his arms when finally he did appear at well past four in the morning.

Holding her close, he gently stroked her face, leading her back to a chair to draw her on to his lap. ‘Hush, sweetheart. Do stop crying and tell me what has happened.’

He listened with sympathy as she told her tale, wiping the tears from her eyes with his handkerchief. ‘You need to calm yourself as this could well be for the best.’

‘How can you can say that when she’s been taken away? And it’s a
lie
! You and I are not having an affair, or living as man and wife, which is how that woman described it.
I’ve done nothing immoral at all, but how can I prove that?’

‘By marrying me, sweetie, quite quickly. Why don’t we get wed now?’

Cathie felt her heart lurch as she gazed into his eyes. ‘Oh, Alex, why didn’t I think of that? Of course, we are engaged to be married. I should have told the woman that fact. And you have agreed to adopt Heather.’

‘Were we to be man and wife in actuality then indeed I would, if that’s what you want.’

‘Of course I do. I love her.’

‘But do you love me?’

Cathie hesitated, asking herself the same question. ‘It is possible to love more than one person at a time.’ These words brought another image bursting into her head, which she quickly blocked out, as was her way. Her fondness for Steve had increased in recent months, but only after he was gone from her life had she appreciated how much he meant to her. She’d lost a good friend. Nothing more, she reminded herself. ‘But I hate the fact these people have made judgements against me that are entirely untrue. I must do something about that.’

Alex stroked her strawberry blonde curls from her damp cheeks.

‘Give yourself a rest first,’ he urged, giving her a tender kiss on the lips. ‘You’ve been working so hard caring for that child that you are utterly exhausted, particularly now that you have a job too. That’s far too much responsibility
for a young woman to cope with. The child will be well looked after and once we are married there’ll be no difficulty in claiming her back. Then you can give up work and concentrate on being a real woman and mother.’

Cathie rested her head against his neck, conflicting emotions ricocheting through her as he kissed her some more. It seemed to be the expected behaviour nowadays for a woman to give up work on marriage and devote herself to domestic duties, so why didn’t she feel any joy about that prospect? Was there something lacking in her as a woman? And how could she bear to be parted from that darling child, even if it was only a week or two until the ceremony took place?

‘The poor love will be heartbroken without me around to love and care for her. She’ll be feeling lost and abandoned. I can’t allow that to happen to her.’

‘You are her loving aunty, I know that now, and once we are married she may well be safely returned. You can then also start having some children of your own.’

Cathie could hardly believe what he was saying. How very kind and sympathetic he was now, marking an end to all his earlier anguish and distrust. And in a way marriage would be the most sensible way of securing little Heather’s future. Yet she did need to make her situation clear, and start things moving in the right direction. ‘Thank you so much for your support. But before rushing into anything, I intend to find out exactly where Heather is, and when and how I can get her back.’

He looked faintly irritated by this remark. ‘I’ve just said that you don’t need to do that. Once we are wed it will happen anyway.’

‘I must and I will,’ Cathie insisted, her sense of independence again coming to the fore as she dismissed his scowl of disapproval with a smile.

Cathie caught a bus the moment the clock struck six that morning, unable to wait another minute even though she’d barely had more than an hour’s sleep at most. Thankful it was a Saturday and she didn’t have to go into work, she knew that nothing would stop her from going in search of little Heather. Her plan was to go straight to the orphanage, where she assumed they would have taken her for the night. The sooner she got there the better, before they had time to hand Heather over to some other foster mother who would be a complete stranger. It would no doubt be necessary to prove her innocence, perhaps by showing them this ring. But she could do that now that she had Alex’s full support.

The orphanage was some distance from the bus stop, and rain began to beat down upon her as she half walked, half ran along a seemingly endless medley of streets off Liverpool Road.

On arrival at the old Victorian building, she hammered on the door, feeling rather damp and out of breath. It was opened by one of the young nuns, and Cathie could see
from her expression that a visitor so early was not welcome. Had she intruded upon their early mass?

‘May I please see the matron?’ she politely asked, heart pounding with anxiety and exhaustion.

‘Mother Superior is still having breakfast. Can I help?’

Cathie quickly related what had happened. ‘This is all a big mistake. I am not doing anything wrong or immoral, although we are about to be married. My fiancé is simply renting a room in our house, having returned from the war. The child is my niece and I was granted the right to be her foster mother until Alex and I marry, after which we fully intend to adopt her. I really need to speak to her
now.
Please.’

‘One moment,’ the young woman said, and marched off.

After waiting for ten fretful minutes, the young woman returned, shaking her head. ‘Sorry, we have no child of that name here.’

Cathie’s heart sank. ‘Then where can she be?’

‘Possibly in any one of several orphanages in Manchester, or already placed into foster care. I’m afraid you’ll have to visit children’s services.’

‘But it’s a Saturday, they won’t be open.’

‘Then you’ll just have to wait till Monday morning, or else visit them all.’

Deeply distressed, Cathie turned to leave, but then it occurred to her that she didn’t even know where all these orphanages might be. ‘Do you have a list?’ she asked.

‘Well, yes, but I’m not sure I’m allowed to hand it out.’
Perhaps moved by Cathie’s tears, and glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one was around, the kind nun dashed into the nearby office and returned with a sheet of paper. ‘Here you are. Good luck.’

Cathie spent the rest of that day, and the next, searching the entire city, the cost of the bus and tram fare required quickly disposing of far too much of that week’s wages. She visited orphanages on Deansgate, Ducie Street, Hanover Street, and then moved on to more distant parts of the city, including Salford, Cheetham, Ancoats and Hulme. Some of these homes turned out to be only for boys, not baby girls, while others had closed following the war, or the children had been evacuated. It was not an easy search.

She felt bone-tired and starving hungry, as she’d barely had a thing to eat all weekend, as well as increasingly anxious. Where could Heather be? The poor child must be frightened and upset at having been removed from her home. What if she wasn’t in Manchester at all but taken over to the Fylde coast to Lytham or Southport, down to Cheshire, or up to the Lake District? She could be anywhere, even in the Yorkshire dales, as Manchester was central to so many places. How could Cathie hope to find her without the help of that Marjorie Simpson woman, the social worker?

Reaching the next orphanage on her list, Cathie knocked on the door and was shown into the office where she came face to face with a robust, stern-faced woman she took to be the matron. Indicating that she should be seated, Cathie
at once launched into telling her story yet again, which she’d done countless times. ‘I need to find her. Is she here?’

‘Ah yes, that child is with us and perfectly well.’

Cathie almost jumped out of her chair in delight. ‘Oh, thank goodness for that! I’ve been searching for her all weekend. Can I please take her home?’

‘I’m afraid that’s not our decision to make. That’s up to children’s services.’

‘But she should be with
me.
I am her aunt, and innocent of these charges. And I love her to bits.’ Cathie found herself again close to tears as she struggled to remain calm. ‘Who has made this false accusation against me? It is all just malicious gossip.’ Even as she asked this question Cathie felt her heart lurch as a worry lodged at the back of her mind.

‘Proving the source of this information will not be easy,’ the matron warned. ‘As I say, you will need to speak to children’s services.’

‘I will do that first thing tomorrow. In the meantime, can I at least see her?’

The matron shook her head. ‘I don’t think that would be wise. It might only upset her. Come back when you have the necessary permission.’

Cathie walked away in a daze of despair, to spend yet another sleepless night, this time with no comfort offered by either Alex or her mother. She felt utterly bereft and alone.

The following morning she arrived early at the Christmas
card factory to ask if she could take some time off in order to pursue this matter further.

‘Sorry, but we’re far too busy to allow anyone time off work right now. You can go during your lunch break,’ said the forewoman. ‘So long as you’re quick about it and clock in again on time.’

That would not be easy, but considering how difficult it had been to acquire the job in the first place, Cathie had no wish to risk losing it. As luck would have it she was shown in to the social worker’s office without delay.

‘Ah, I thought you might call in, Miss Morgan. No doubt you are about to assure me that you are actually married,’ the social worker remarked caustically.

‘That would be yet another lie, in addition to the one that caused you to take Heather away from me in the first place. Alex and I are engaged and do intend to adopt my niece,’ she said, and then went on at some length to explain their situation in a desperate attempt to prove her innocence. ‘Please, may I have your permission to take her home?’

‘It’s a charming romantic tale, but why would I believe you? I need far more proof, probably in the form of a marriage licence, or better still a certificate.’

‘The thing is, we aren’t yet married because we’ve had problems, due to the war, but things are improving between us.’

‘What kind of problems?’

‘I’d really rather not discuss it.’ The worry that had been needling away at the back of Cathie’s mind now reasserted
itself. She was quite convinced that it was Davina who’d spread this evil gossip about her, in a bid to take revenge over losing Alex. But his affair with one of her best friends was not something Cathie wished to reveal to this woman. It might only make only matters worse.

However, the social worker began to fold up her papers and rose from her chair. ‘Then I wish you good day, Miss Morgan.’

‘Oh, please, don’t send me away.’ Cathie took a deep breath, making the decision that like it or not she must come clean, otherwise she would never discover the truth or get little Heather back. ‘All right, Mrs Simpson, I’ll tell you everything. If my suspicions are correct then the person who has been trying to steal Alex from me, my one-time friend, could have told this lie. They had a fling but in the end he came back to me, which has no doubt infuriated her. If that is the case then surely I have the right to know.’

Marjorie Simpson returned to her seat, sitting in silence for some moments as she considered these comments with a speculative frown on her wrinkled brow. Then reaching into a filing cabinet she brought out a file, withdrew a sheet of paper and handed it over. With a sinking heart, Cathie read the anonymous letter that related her alleged crime in a few short vicious sentences, seeming to imply they were having sex every five minutes without the benefit of a wedding ring.

‘Dear God, this is even worse than last time.’

‘Last time, what are you talking about?’

Cradling her face in her hands, it took Cathie a moment to recover her composure sufficiently to speak. ‘A little while ago I spoke to someone at a local orphanage who told me they’d received an enquiry from me, asking for a place for Heather. That wasn’t true, I definitely made no such request. I love her and wish to bring her up as my own child. I can’t remember the lady’s name but she showed me the letter in question, and I’m sorry to say that I instantly recognised the handwriting.’