Free A Wartime Christmas by Carol Rivers Page B

silly,’ urged Doris as she gave him a gentle nudge. ‘You’re not really that shy.’
    Kay kept her arms wide and her eyes hopeful, trying to find that place within her that would reach out and unconsciously reclaim him. This was her son, her beautiful boy, and she ached to hold
him. Uncertainly, he came towards her. ‘Yes, it’s me, Mummy,’ Kay said. ‘Mummy from the photograph.’ She reached her hand towards Alan. ‘And this is
Daddy.’
    Kay guessed Alan was smiling but she felt his reluctance to move and frighten Alfie. She also knew Alan must be as upset as she was that Alfie had forgotten them.
    The seconds seemed to stretch into long minutes before Alfie took another hesitant step towards them. Kay drank in his beauty: his softly tanned skin, chubby face and arms, the sturdiness of his
legs under the blue dungarees, his little brown toes peeping out from the straps of the sandals. She wanted to burst into tears. All the pain of separation threatened to overwhelm her. The war had
done this, as it had done to so many families. The day Doris and Len had come to collect him at the beginning of the Blitz still haunted her. The terror of the bombs had been nothing to the agony
she had felt as she saw them taking Alfie away. He had been crying for her and Alan had to hold her in his arms as she’d fought to rush out to Len’s car and stop them. Second only to
Norman’s death, it had been the worst day of her life. That night in the Anderson, she had cried continually. Even Vi reminding her that the East End was no place for a child hadn’t
helped. Nothing had mattered then. She hadn’t even cared about a bomb dropping on the house. Without Alfie, her life had seemed over.
    ‘Alfie?’ Kay fought back the threatening tears. ‘Do you remember this?’ She pushed her hand down into the shopping bag that Alan had carried all the way from London. She
found what she was looking for. An old remnant of blanket from the cot she hadn’t been able to part with. She had embroidered his name on the edge of the thin wool.
    Kay pressed the blanket to her face and smiled. Alfie gazed at it with the same deep brown eyes as Alan. Cautiously, he took the blanket. Kay was certain that now he would walk into her arms.
But instead, he returned to Doris.
    ‘He’s tired,’ Doris told them as he curled in her lap. ‘It’s time for his nap.’
    Alan reached forward for Kay’s hand. Through the tears that she was struggling to control, Kay told herself she must be patient. At least the blanket had meant something to Alfie.
    Over an hour later, Len arrived home. Kay saw how surprised he was to see her and Alan sitting in the front room. ‘Good lord,’ he muttered, his jaw dropping.
‘What are you two doing here?’
    Kay went to greet him, kissing his cheek. He was not very much taller than her and had thick auburn hair like her own, though there were now flecks of grey at his temples. He had grown a small
moustache that made him look much older than his thirty-one years.
    Alan stood up and took Len’s hand. ‘Good to see you, Len.’
    ‘This is a surprise,’ said Len sharply. Then, looking at Doris, he demanded, ‘Where’s Alfie?’
    Doris was quick to explain that he was napping upstairs. Then she showed him Kay’s letter. ‘This arrived after you left,’ she said. ‘Kay wrote to us at the beginning of
the week but the post must have been delayed.’
    ‘You want to take Alfie?’ he asked in a startled voice after reading it.
    ‘That’s the plan,’ Alan replied. ‘I’m sorry it’s such short notice.’
    ‘But come on, man, the war’s not over,’ Len protested. ‘The Luftwaffe could be back any minute. And the docks will always be a prime target.’
    Just then, Doris signalled to Kay. ‘You’d better come upstairs with me.’
    Kay would rather have talked to her brother, but she could see Doris ascending the stairs. She glanced at Alan, who had sat down again. Len had gone over to join him.