Magnolia Square by Margaret Pemberton Page A

been there, Matthew would have put his tongue out at her. As it was, he said magnanimously, ‘I
know
we share it. We share it ’cos we’re a
family. But I can still call it
mine.
Calling it mine doesn’t mean not sharing, does it, Daddy-Leon?’
    Kate grinned and left Leon to it. Walking into the kitchen, she put the carrier-bag with their damp towels and wet swimming costumes down by the copper and said cheerily, ‘We’ve had
a wonderful time. I’d no idea Rose was such a good little swimmer. She and Daisy were like a pair of eels.’
    ‘It was Carrie who taught her,’ Christina said, pushing her chair away from the table and standing up. ‘Danny can’t swim. Is Leon going to teach him?’
    Kate’s eyebrows shot high. ‘I didn’t realize he couldn’t swim!’ she said in astonishment. ‘I thought that by remaining in the shallow end and playing with
Matthew and Luke he was simply being unselfish.’
    A smile touched Christina’s mouth. It was typical of Danny that he hadn’t admitted to an inability to swim. ‘Don’t let him know that I told you,’ she said, slipping
her shoulder-bag strap over her arm. ‘You know Danny. He’s got a lot of pride where things like that are concerned.’
    ‘Then he shouldn’t have.’ Kate poured milk for the children’s cocoa into a pan. ‘Leon would be only too happy to teach him. They could go on their own, without the
children. And maybe Danny could teach Leon something in return.’
    Christina felt a rush of warmth towards both Kate and her father. It was typical of Kate to try and think of a way Leon could help Danny learn to swim without Danny feeling either foolish or
beholden. And Carl Voigt’s acceptance that her mother and grandmother could very well still be alive, and his commitment to uncovering whatever information he could, had taken an intolerable
burden from her shoulders. She no longer felt isolated and alone. Carl Voigt understood her grief and her guilt and her hope. She had someone now she could talk to, someone who understood the sense
of alienation that often overwhelmed her. Someone who, after over thirty years of living in Britain, had admitted he, too, often felt similarly alienated.
    ‘I must be going,’ she said to them both. ‘I didn’t tell anyone I was leaving the house, and if they discover I’m not in they’ll begin worrying.’
    Kate turned the gas flame low beneath the pan of milk. ‘I’ll see you to the door,’ she said as thumps and bumps shaking the ceiling above them indicated that a pillow-fight,
not a story-telling session, was taking place.
    At the front door, Christina paused for a moment. ‘Your father has promised to help me, Kate,’ she said confidingly. ‘He’s going to contact the Red Cross for
me.’
    Kate slipped her arm through Christina’s and gave it an affectionate squeeze. ‘I knew he would. And you can tell Jack that Dad will be very, very painstaking and thorough.’
    ‘Jack?’ An odd expression flashed through Christina’s amethyst eyes.
    Kate stared at her, oblivious of Charlie’s cheery wave as he took Queenie for a walk in the direction of the Heath. ‘You have written and told Jack you think your mother and
grandmother could still be alive, haven’t you?’ she asked, hardly able to believe her sudden suspicion that Christina had done no such thing. ‘He does know you’re going to
search for them, doesn’t he?’
    Christina hesitated for a second. It was late evening now and in the deepening dusk her skin looked as pale as alabaster. ‘No,’ she said reluctantly. ‘No. I haven’t told
Jack. Not yet.’ And before Kate could make an astonished response she turned on her heel, running lightly down the shallow flight of broad stone steps that led to the front path and the
gate.
    As she continued to hurry down to the bottom end of the Square, Kate stared after her, her eyes wide. What sort of a relationship did Christina and Jack have when Christina didn’t divulge