.
.
.
Part Seven: Intrigued
But he didn't about forget the Neville-Wests. Over the next fortnight he found his thoughts repeatedly straying back to the widow and her little daughter. How, he wondered, were they bearing up in the wake of their ordeal? He was surprised at how pleased he felt when a reason arose to contact them again.
It was Milner who unwittingly provided the excuse. Fumbling on the floor of the car for a dropped glove, he had come across a silver necklace under the back seat. Foyle had immediately recognised Katherine and her late husband in the photos inside the locket. The chain, he observed, was broken. No doubt it had happened while she slept on the drive back from Croydon. He tucked it into his pocket and that evening stopped in at a jewellers' and had it repaired.
Next day he left work a little early and had Sam drop him off at the high street near Seymour Terrace, telling her he had an errand to run. He couldn't have said why, but for some reason he didn't want to involve her in this little visit.
"Mr Foyle!" Katherine greeted him, sounding surprised. "Come in! Do sit down, please … " She took his coat and hat and ushered him inside.
The room looked as cosy and inviting as he remembered it. The blackout curtains were drawn against the late autumn twilight and a fire crackled the grate. A savoury smell emanating from the little kitchen added to the inviting ambience.
Foyle settled himself on the chintz sofa. "What can I do for you, Mr Foyle? Did you need to ask Cecily some more questions?"
"No, no. It's about this," he replied, reaching into his inner coat pocket. "My sergeant found it on the floor of my car. I think it may belong to your daughter." He held out the silver locket.
Her eyes widened. "Oh! Yes, indeed! She'll be so pleased … it's been missing for a couple of weeks now. She's been very upset about it. Cecily!" she called in the direction of the bedroom.
The child emerged promptly. "Oh, hello, Mr Foyle!" she greeted him.
"Cecily, look what Mr Foyle found!"
The child gave a delighted squeal. "My locket! Where was it?"
"It had fallen off in my car," Foyle told her. "It only turned up the other day."
"Oh, thank you so much! I was looking and looking for it," she replied, taking it eagerly from his hand and favouring him with a dazzling smile.
"I think you should go put it away right now," advised her mother. "Then finish your maths homework, please. I need to talk to Mr Foyle for a few minutes." The little girl bounced obediently from the room, blonde braids swinging.
Katherine looked at him gratefully. "I can't tell you what this means to her," she said softly when Cecily was out of earshot. "Her father gave her that necklace before he shipped out on his first patrol. She treasures it …"
"Quite all right," said Foyle. "Sorry it didn't turn up sooner."
"It was very kind of you to bring it over like this. I could have come down to the police station to collect it."
"Not a problem, Mrs Neville-West."
"Well, anyway, I'm glad you did. I have been thinking a lot about … what happened. Wondering … did you ever find out why Perkins did it?"
"Money," Foyle told her. "He has a gambling problem and was deeply in debt. He confessed he'd been thinking about abducting a child for some time and when he saw Cecily alone in the schoolyard he decided to take advantage of the situation. He'd have done the same to any other child, given the opportunity. I'm sure he didn't have any intention of harming her. It was a clumsy, ill-conceived crime by a desperate man and I can promise you he won't have any opportunity to try it again. He's going to prison for a very long time."
"Thank God for that," Katherine said softly, in such a fervent tone that his concern was aroused.
"How are the two of you bearing up? I hope this whole business hasn't been too disturbing for you."
"Well, Cecily seems fine during the day, but she's had a few nightmares. She's started creeping in to bed with me in the middle of the night again. She did it a lot right after her father died, but she had pretty much stopped until recently."
"And you?"
Katherine gave a half-hearted shrug which told him only too well how badly the incident had shaken her. "I'm … all right, I suppose …."
She broke off as her daughter reappeared. "I finished my maths, Mummy." Coming to her mother's side, she leaned over to whisper something in her ear. Katherine's brief look of surprise was quickly replaced with an approving smile.
"Why yes, darling, you may. That's a very good idea!"
Cecily promptly turned to Foyle. "Mr Foyle, will you stay for dinner with us?"
Foyle was caught off guard by the invitation. "Why, I …" He looked at Katherine.
"We're only having beef stew, Mr Foyle, but there's plenty. You're more than welcome if you don't have other plans."
"Please?" chimed in Cecily.
How could he refuse that eager little face? Besides, did he really want to leave this cosy room and return to his chilly house for another lonely meal?
" ... yes, all right."
Cecily beamed. "Oh, how jolly!" she chirped. Katherine gently tweaked her daughter's braid.
"Very good. But, sweetheart, you really ought to invite Mr Foyle to dinner, not for dinner. Otherwise he might think he's on the menu, you know." Cecily giggled. To Foyle she added, "It's nearly ready."
"This is very kind of you, Mrs Neville-West."
"On the contrary, the pleasure is ours. And please, won't you call me Katherine? Neville-West is such a mouthful."
His heart warmed. "Very well. Make it Christopher, then."
She smiled at him, that same lovely smile that lit up her whole face. "Please make yourself at home, Christopher. I just need a few minutes. Cecily, will you lay the table, please?"
Foyle leaned back on the comfortable sofa cushions and watched Katherine moving quietly about the kitchen alcove serving up the meal. Her cherry-red knit dress, he couldn't help noticing, clung to the curves of her figure in a most pleasing manner. With an effort he dragged his attention to Cecily, who was scattering cutlery and napkins haphazardly and chattering away in a manner that reminded him more than a little of his driver, Sam, in a talkative mood.
In no time at all they were taking their seats at the little table. Cecily, he noticed with amusement, climbed atop a well-worn copy of The Decline and Fall of The Roman Empire to boost her height. After saying a simple grace Katherine ladled out the stew, which proved to be very tasty despite the shortage of meat, and passed bread and margarine.
"You know, I've just realised something," Katherine remarked as they picked up their spoons. "In America, today is Thanksgiving."
"Is it?" said Christopher.
"What's Thanksgiving?" Cecily chimed in.
"Don't you remember, dear? It's an American holiday when family and friends gather and give thanks for all their blessings."
"Is that when people eat turkey?"
"That's right. When I was growing up we always went to my grandparents' house in the country for Thanksgiving, and we always had turkey and ham, sometimes venison too. You never saw so much food in your life. The table would be groaning with dishes. But then, there were always at least twenty people there. Sometimes as many as thirty."
"Quite a gathering," said Christopher. "Where was this?"
"Rural Virginia. My father came from the Blue Ridge mountains."
"Is that where you come from?"
"No. I grew up in Virginia too, but in a small town near Washington, D.C. But we always visited my father's people two or three times a year."
"What's venison, Mummy?" asked Cecily.
"Deer meat."
"Ugh!" She made a face.
"Well, it was never one of my favourites," her mother admitted. "But we had mashed potatoes and dressing and creamed corn and cranberry sauce and pumpkin pie … But the best part wasn't the food. I loved seeing all my cousins. We children had a wonderful time."
"Were there lots of children?"
"Dozens. Or at least, it seemed like it. And every year, during dinner, we would go round the table and each person would name one thing he or she was thankful for."
"Why?"
"Because it helped everyone to stop and think of how many blessings they had to be grateful for in their lives."
"That's nice," said Cecily thoughtfully. "Does everyone in America do that on Thanksgiving?"
"I don't think so, but we always did."
"Can we do it? Right now?"
"Of course, if you like. And if Mr Foyle doesn't mind."
"Not at all," said Christopher. "A fine custom."
"You should go first, Mr Foyle, since you're the guest," said Cecily, scrupulously minding her manners.
Christopher nodded and rubbed his chin, considering. His first thought, naturally, was how grateful he was for Andrew's continued safety after over a year on active service. But, disinclined to mention something so personal, he searched his mind for something else.
"I'm thankful that the Blitz is over," he said. "Not nearly as many bombs as last year." Since the Soviet Union had entered the war back in June, the Luftwaffe had turned much of its attention to fighting in Eastern Europe.
"Indeed, yes," agreed Katherine. "I'm grateful for that, too."
"My turn now?" asked Cecily.
"Yes. What are you thankful for?"
The child pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Well, I would be thankful for a kitten, if I had one," she said, eyeing her mother hopefully. "I would be very, very thankful and I would take very good care of it and …" she broke off at the expression on her mother's face.
"Cecily Margaret," said Katherine, setting down her spoon and gazing sternly at her daughter, "you know perfectly well that the purpose of this is not to try to wheedle something you want. Besides, we've talked about this before. When you're older, perhaps."
"Yes, Mummy," said the child, looking disappointed.
"So have you anything else you're thankful for?"
"Well …" Cecily's brow furrowed. Then she brightened. "I'm thankful about losing my tooth. I can whistle through the hole. Nobody else in my form can do that! And the other one's getting one's loose now, too, so I should be able to whistle even louder soon." She looked very pleased with herself. Foyle was unable to contain his smile. "Your turn, Mummy."
"Well, I'm very thankful … to have you safely home with me, Cecily." Her glance shifted to Christopher and their eyes met and held for a long moment.
The little girl's gaze darted from one adult to the other as she sensed the unspoken communication between them. "Have you got any children, Mr Foyle?" Cecily asked, shattering the silence.
"Yes, I do," he replied after a pause, turning his attention to her. "I have a son. He's much older than you, though."
"How old?"
"He's grown. He's twenty-three."
"Oh," said the little girl dismissively. "Well, he's quite old then, isn't he?"
"Well - " Christopher broke off, imagining Andrew's reaction to this casual statement. He glanced back at Katherine, and when their eyes met she broke into a soft melodious laugh. He couldn't suppress his own chuckle.
When the meal was finished Katherine cleared the table swiftly, refusing his help with a quick shake of her head. "Please make yourself comfortable. This won't take a moment. But if you wouldn't mind poking up the fire, Christopher?"
He did so, adding a fresh log, and soon had it blazing cheerfully. Christopher and Katherine settled themselves in the comfortable chairs and enjoyed a cup of tea while Cecily sprawled on the hearthrug at their feet. They talked easily, rambling from events in Hastings and the South Coast to the latest war news. Katherine was much given to drawing historical parallels to current events – "an historian's weakness, I'm afraid" – and he found her comments unusually thoughtful. She asked him a number of perceptive questions about the last war, and he couldn't help being impressed with her intelligence.
After a time Cecily climbed into her mother's lap and curled up contentedly, only half-listening to the adult conversation. Katherine loosened her braids and began unconsciously stroking her hair, which glowed golden in the firelight. Christopher could see that the child was growing sleepy but he did not remark upon it, so stimulating was the conversation. They talked for quite a long while before Katherine noticed the time.
"Oh, dear! It's nearly half-past eight. You should be in bed, sweetheart. Say goodnight to Mr Foyle, now, and scamper! Pyjamas, teeth and hair. Off you go now! I'll be in to kiss you in a minute."
After she had disappeared into the bedroom, Christopher rose. "I ought to be going now," he said, sorry to see the evening end but not wanting to overstay his welcome. "Thank you for dinner, Katherine. It was delicious. Very enjoyable."
As she walked him to the door, he was struck by the conviction that he didn't want to let this woman slip out of his life. And if he didn't speak now, he knew he wasn't likely to get another opportunity. At the door he summoned his courage and turned to her, hat in hand.
"I was wondering … er … that is, if you'd like to … have dinner with me, sometime?" Bloody hell, he thought, I sound like a spotty-faced schoolboy …
Katherine, unable to hide her surprise, let her eyes drop to the carpet. "Why, I … I …" Christopher braced himself for a polite refusal, inwardly berating himself for his inept approach. After a pause, she raised her head and looked him in the eye, her cheeks noticeably pinker. "Yes, I … I'd like that, Christopher."
His heart leapt. "Umm … Saturday night, perhaps?" He fidgeted with his hat.
Her blush deepened. "That would be fine."
"Seven o'clock?"
"Yes."
He gave a relieved nod, stepping out the door and putting on his hat. "Saturday at seven, then."
The pleasure of the cosy family evening lingered with Christopher all the next day. It had been years since he had spent much time around a child and he had found Cecily to be an unexpected delight. She was such a winsome little girl that he couldn't help feeling drawn to her. And she seemed to like him too. Funny thing. Children didn't usually warm to him so quickly. He knew could be brusque at times – could that be why? He didn't know, but whatever it was it didn't seem to put Cecily off. It had, after all, been her idea to ask him to stay to dinner.
His heart softened as he remembered the feel of her little hand clinging trustingly to his when he'd taken her from Mrs Moffett's house, and how sweetly she'd thanked him for bringing her home. Without being prompted, either. Her mother was doing a good job instilling manners in her.
He had very much enjoyed the glimpses he'd had of mother and daughter together. There was a tenderness between them that he found very appealing. Was it Katherine's more open American manner that made her so openly affectionate with her daughter? Or was she simply lavishing her with all the love that she would otherwise have shared with her husband? Whatever the reason, it certainly didn't seem to have done Cecily any harm. Despite the tragic loss of her father she seemed to be a happy and secure child. And the atmosphere in the little flat was so warm and welcoming. Foyle could vaguely remember a time when his own house had possessed the same sort of cosiness, back when Andrew was small and Rosalind was alive. He'd never really been able to put his finger on exactly how his home had changed after her death. It was so long ago now …
And then there was Katherine herself. The prospect of getting to know her better pleased him. He was glad he had summoned the nerve to ask her to dinner; it was the first time in more years than he cared to recall that he'd been tempted to step out with a woman. A purely social engagement, this, nothing to do with police business. Such events had become rarer and rarer in his life in recent years, as his old friends had gradually given up trying to fix him up with eligible spinsters and widows. He had found the matchmaking unbearable; the awkward, almost suffocating feeling of being pursued had been excruciating to a man of his reticent nature. Only the frostiest demeanour had served to discourage the more persistent husband-hunters.
Well, at least he didn't have to worry about anything like that with Katherine. This American woman was clearly still besotted with her late husband. He could tell by how frequently she mentioned his name and by the tone of her voice when she spoke of him. As for himself, Christopher was quite sure she regarded him as nothing more than a kind, somewhat older man who had helped her in a time of trouble. Nevertheless, he was looking forward to Saturday night. Katherine intrigued him, for reasons he couldn't quite put into words.