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Part Two: Moving away?

"Norfolk?" Christopher stopped dead in his tracks to stare at her.

"Yes. The divisional headquarters are about twenty miles outside Norwich."

He was speechless with incredulity. She can't be serious … Norwich? Might as well be the other side of the moon! Travel has become so difficult that I'd probably never see her. When he found his voice, his words came out in a stammer. "So … so … er … you've accepted, then?"

"Not yet. I'm considering it. He needs an answer by Monday. It's a big decision, you know." She glanced away, out at the gently rippling current.

Christopher felt as though he'd been kicked in the solar plexus. He closed his eyes momentarily, trying to absorb the blow. "Long way, Norfolk," he said stiffly.

"Yes, that's the problem. It's hard to think about moving just when we've really gotten settled in and feel a part of things here. Do you realise that we've been in Hastings longer than anywhere else we've lived since Cecily was born? She's doing well in school, she's made friends, we're near family here - I hate to leave, but …"

"Then why go?"

"Well, I've been looking for an opportunity like this for a long time, Christopher. I really feel I have to give it serious consideration."

Opportunity for what? thought Foyle, utterly mystified. What on earth could be the attraction in moving to the wilds of Norfolk? He opened his mouth to ask her, then abruptly closed it again as the obvious answer struck him. Sutcliffe. Oh, Christ! She has feelings for him and she wants to go up there to be with him. He stared at her, blank-faced with shock, as a sudden icy tightness gripped his chest.

Katherine looked at him wordlessly. Her expression changed subtly as she studied his expression, the corners of her mouth drooping slightly.

The silence between them was broken abruptly by a shriek and a splash from the riverbank. Turning, Foyle barely had time to register that Cecily had disappeared from view before Katherine had started to run. He followed, trying to overtake her with his longer stride. He knew her well enough to be sure that she wouldn't hesitate to jump in to pull her daughter out and he was determined to prevent her, especially since she was barely recovered from her 'flu.

Sure enough, the girl was struggling upright in the knee-deep current close by the riverbank, water streaming from her long braids. "I'll look after it," he grunted, pushing past Katherine. "Stay back, you'll catch pneumonia …" Straining a little, he was able to reach out far enough to pull the dripping, shivering child up the bank.

"I'm sorry, Mummy," she wailed as her mother pulled off her own coat and tucked it around her, clucking soothingly. "I s-s-slipped in the mud …"

Christopher's inner turmoil over Katherine's announcement was pushed to the background by the need to get Cecily out of the chilly wind as quickly as possible. Wrapping his own coat atop Katherine's, they hurried her the quarter-mile or so back to the main road where by great good fortune they were able to flag down a passing taxi. Together they bundled the child inside. "16, Seymour Terrace," Foyle ordered.

Once there, he paid the driver and escorted them to the flat. "I should go," he told Katherine, who had already started peeling off Cecily's layers of coats. "You'll need to get her into a hot bath."

"Yes, of course … I'm sorry about this, Christopher. I should have been watching her more closely ... there, Cecily, now go start drawing yourself a bath." She turned back to him as the child disappeared. "Thank you so much for all your help. And for the lunch. It was lovely ... "

"A pleasure." He took his coat from her and they stood in awkward silence for a moment. He wanted to beg her not to go away, not to throw away what they had together. He wanted to fling his coat aside, crush her in his arms and kiss her without mercy until she agreed to stay and be with him always. But he couldn't. If she cared for someone else … but he had to say something …

"Umm … about this job ..." the words stuck in his throat. "You … you will let me know what you decide, won't you?"

She blinked in surprise. "Why, of course …" she faltered. Unable to think of anything else to say, he nodded a stiff farewell, trying to ignore the hollow ache in his chest as he stepped back so she could shut the door.

Foyle slumped forward in his favourite armchair, head in hands. Where did I go wrong? he wondered dismally. It all seemed to be going so well … His mind was whirling. He'd been so sure that she cared for him, at least a little. She had always seemed to enjoy their time together as much as he had.

The unexpectedness of Katherine's announcement had been shock enough. Worse still was the fact that he had gradually come to feel so positive about the possibility of sharing his life with them that he had begun to take it for granted. He looked across to the dining room. How many times, while eating his solitary dinner, had he glanced left and right and envisioned Katherine and Cecily seated on either side of him? How often had he pictured the little girl sprawled on the sitting-room carpet playing with her dolls? How frequently had he reached out in the night and imagined, rather than cold emptiness, Katherine's soft warmth cuddling up to him? Fantasies like these had warmed many a chill winter evening but now, he realised bleakly, he was going to pay dearly for his overconfidence. It was as thought the pair had invaded his home just as surely as they had invaded his heart.

The rest of Katherine's day was a whirlwind of non-stop activity. After helping Cecily to bathe and dress, she changed into her dark green WVS uniform and hurried the child off to the bus stop to take her to the nearby village of Battle. Cecily usually spent the night with her aunt and cousins there while her mother was on duty at the base canteen. After dropping her off, she caught another bus to the aerodrome. As usual, it was buzzing with activity and the canteen staff were kept busy making and serving tea and coffee until well past midnight. It was nearly two o'clock in the morning before she reached home.

She tumbled wearily into bed, her usual fatigue at the end of a Saturday night shift compounded by the toll her recent bout of illness had taken on her stamina. Despite her exhaustion, however, she slept fitfully. Not only was she struggling with her decision, but she was also troubled by a nagging sense of disappointment that she couldn't quite pinpoint.

Poor as Katherine's rest was, Christopher's night was worse. Every time he closed his eyes he saw her face hovering before him, heard her melodious voice echo in his mind. Over and over he relived the exquisite pleasure of her kiss, just as he had done so many other nights during the past several weeks. Their enforced separation had manifested itself not only as a distraction during his waking hours but also in the form of disconcertingly erotic dreams. He had supposed that a man nearing fifty would be beyond such things, but his restless nights were proving quite otherwise.

His frustration was no doubt exacerbated by the restraint he had imposed upon himself after their second date, when he had allowed himself to be carried away by his attraction to her. Katherine, clearly distressed, had called an abrupt halt, and he had been very careful not to offend her again. Since that occasion he had tried to restrict their physical contact to dancing, holding hands and carefully controlled, if passionate, goodnight kisses. Over time he had found it increasingly difficult to maintain such rigid discipline over his desires, but in the main he had succeeded, promising himself that his self-restraint would be rewarded once they were married. But now … he rolled over and punched his pillow for the umpteenth time, groaning with frustrated longing. Tonight, for the first time in weeks, his sexual urges were overshadowed by the empty ache in his chest.

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