Free Home Is Where the Heart Is by Freda Lightfoot

be called Castle-in-the-Field back in medieval times when even then Manchester was a famous trading port, or so my father told me. But over time the name of this district was shortened to Castlefield. I’m quite proud to be a Mancunian, actually.’
    ‘Brave of you to take such a stand, dear, although you didn’t have any choice on where you were born, so you have my sympathy.’ Thelma flicked her winged brows in caustic amusement before graciously moving back to her seat, leaving a cloud of Chanel perfume in her wake.
    Cathie almost wished she’d kept her mouth shut.
    The atmosphere over lunch was equally chilly and fraught with tension, almost as bad as the cold sleet now slapping against the stained glass windows. There were various aunts, uncles and cousins seated around the large table. Cathie smiled vaguely at everyone, but no one smiled back, or even bothered to speak to her save for his AuntMary, a wizened old woman with grey hair who prattled on at length about a book,
For Whom the Bell Tolls
by Ernest Hemingway, which she happened to be reading. Even Alex seemed sunk in some private world.
    Cathie attempted to fill the frozen silence by mentioning the success of the charity concert the other night.
    ‘Thanks to the Co-op we managed to raise a great deal of money for our returning heroes,’ she told Doctor Ryman, who was seated opposite her, his wife by his side. Neither responded, offering not a word of congratulations.
    Throughout the meal his mother, Dorothy, frequently cast curious glances in Cathie’s direction while conversing quietly with her husband. Were they discussing her? They certainly seemed to be examining her in excruciating detail. Cathie felt as if she were on show in a shop window, the entire family watching the way she lifted her glass, held her knife and fork, and chewed upon her food. At one point, she slid a hand beneath the table to clasp Alex’s knee, needing the reassurance of his presence beside her. Even that brought little response beyond a small sideways twist of a smile.
    Striving not to appear offended at being so ignored, Cathie concentrated on eating the Christmas turkey. ‘This is so tender,’ she said at last, unable to bear the awkward silence any longer. ‘We were going to have goose, unfortunately …’ She stopped in her tracks, not wishing to explain how her selfish mother had given it away, despite the curious glances directed her way.
    ‘What? You didn’t know how to cook it?’ Thelma asked with a laugh.
    Cathie’s cheeks flushed bright red. ‘Well, yes, actually, I did, although my cooking is nowhere near as good as yours, Mrs Ryman.’
    ‘Then perhaps you should take lessons from the WVS,’ Dorothy remarked coolly. ‘Particularly if you are soon to be married.’
    ‘Oh, I’d never thought of that. Not that I could afford to, nor have I the time.’
    His mother gave a wintry sort of smile that did not reach her cloudy grey eyes. ‘Such classes are free. Besides, you have all the time in the world to make your husband happy. That will be your job from now on, so long as you feel up to the task, that is.’
    Cathie felt a strong urge to dispute this remark, but fortunately her sense of caution won out and she kept silent. The conversation around the table again reverted to personal matters, which she allowed to drift over her head, making no attempt to listen, let alone join in. Alex was likewise ignoring her, exchanging a few words with his father. Perhaps, she thought, when lunch was over, there would be the opportunity for them to be alone at last and have time to talk. Till then, she’d button her lip and say nothing more.
    But his mother’s next question, directed specifically at her, changed everything. ‘I perfectly understand why a young girl such as yourself would be eager to quickly tie the knot, but you need to remember that my son has onlyjust returned from the war, so must be allowed some time to recover before you rush him down the