Free A Wartime Christmas by Carol Rivers Page A

them.
    ‘This is lovely,’ Alan said as they entered the cool interior of the cottage. Kay tried to catch Alfie’s attention but he continued to bury his face in Doris’s shoulder.
Despite Kay’s urgent wish that he should look up and into her eyes he refused to do so. Alan squeezed her arm, as if to say he had guessed the thoughts running through her mind.
    Tearing her eyes away from her son, Kay glanced out of the pretty lattice window at the rear of the sitting room. From here she had full view of the lush, flower-filled garden radiating with
bright sunshine. A neatly cut lawn folded its way around a child’s swing which was looped around the branches of an apple tree. There was also a large stuffed dog on wheels that had seen
better days and was leaking horsehair. But the rope attached to it meant that someone was able to tow the rider along as they sat on the dog’s back. The thought gave Kay a cutting pain across
her heart. Her little boy must have spent many hours with that dog on sunny days. Either Doris or Len or perhaps both had towed him around the garden, laughing and playing with him.
    Doris indicated two very large elderly chairs covered in flowered material and big, squashy cushions that spilled over the arms. While failing to catch Alfie’s eye, Kay had time to look
around. The cottage was homely, but not expensively furnished. The furniture was obviously well cared for and the same black oak beams that crossed the ceiling also surrounded the wide brick
hearth. A round china jug stood on its mantel and was filled with fresh flowers. There were brass ornaments hanging on the beams – horseshoes and tiny bells – and a big copper kettle
stood next to the grate. The walls were a creamy colour that looked a bit like lumpy ice cream and had old mirrors and pictures of farm scenes and landscapes hanging on them.
    ‘Len’s at work, but he’ll be home soon,’ Doris told them as she sat on the big settee with Alfie. ‘He’s not seen your letter as the postman was late.
It’s going to be a surprise for him to find you here.’
    ‘I wrote in June to prepare you,’ Kay reminded her sister-in-law. ‘But we never heard back.’
    Doris lifted her head sharply. ‘We thought you were certain to reconsider as the war isn’t over.’ Doris slid off Alfie’s hat and slipped her hand through his rich, dark
hair, stroking it into place. Once again, Alfie refused to look in Kay’s direction. ‘He’s wary with strangers,’ Doris said, then corrected herself quickly by adding,
‘I mean I know you’re not strangers, but he hasn’t seen you for a while.’
    Kay didn’t need to be reminded of that. Every hour, every day of every month away from her son was engraved in her mind. She leaned forward, a trembling smile on her face.
‘Alfie?’ she whispered. ‘It’s Mummy and Daddy. We’ve come to take you home.’
    At this, the little boy clung harder to Doris. ‘You should have given us more time,’ Doris berated, brushing her short hair from her eyes. ‘We would have told Alfie you were
coming and showed him your picture so that he understands.’ She nodded to a shelf beside the settee. ‘Look, Alfie, this is your mum and dad. Like in the photograph up there.’
    They all gazed at the picture. It had been taken on the day when the council had kitted out Alan for his work with the Heavy Rescue Squad. He wore his new uniform of dark overalls and a tin
helmet. Kay had been dressed in a smart utility suit with her hair coiled around her head. With arms linked, they smiled into the lens of the camera held by one of Alan’s friends from
work.
    Alfie stared at the photograph. Doris lowered him to the floor and lifted the wooden-framed photograph from its shelf to place in Alfie’s small hands. ‘Alfie, give your mummy and
daddy a hug.’
    Kay sat nervously on the edge of the chair. Slowly she opened her arms. It would break her heart if he refused to do as Doris said.
    ‘Go along,