The Orphan’s Last Goodbye, page 1
THE ORPHAN’S LAST GOODBYE
GLYNIS PETERS
One More Chapter
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First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2025
Copyright © Glynis Peters 2025
Cover design by Lucy Bennett © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2025
Cover photographs © Magdalena Russocka/Trevillion Images
Glynis Peters asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
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This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Source ISBN: 9780008492472
Ebook Edition © November 2025 ISBN: 9780008492465 Version: 2025-08-14
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Thank you for reading…
About the Author
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To the readers who have followed Kitty's journey throughout the series, this final book is dedicated to you. Your patience is appreciated, and your support is incredible!
Chapter One
8th May 1947
‘I am going back to Canada. It’s time.’
Kitty McCarthy stared across the breakfast table at her husband in disbelief. Her heart raced, and she nervously twisted the corner of her napkin as his words hung heavy in the air. Each syllable felt like a weight upon her shoulders, threatening to crush her spirit. She felt the chill of his words seep into her heart, leaving her numb with shock.
She scoured Michael’s face for a joking smile, but his usual twinkling eyes were downcast, and Kitty watched as he toyed with the crumbs on his plate. What he said was serious, not a teasing threat because she had burnt the toast that morning. He’d spoken and then looked away, avoiding her eye. He did not ask if she would like to live in Canada; he clearly said ‘I’. He planned to return to his country of birth. Fear clutched at Kitty’s throat, and she swallowed it down.
‘What do you mean? You’re leaving?’ Kitty asked.
‘I have to go…’ Michael replied. ‘It’s all a mess. My life used to be action-packed with rescues and dangerous missions. But my head injury took it all away. The adventurer in me is not satisfied. Being a general practitioner in England – the war—’
Kitty took an impatient breath and released it with a slight slap of her hand onto the table.
‘The war, the war. All I hear from you is constantly blaming the war. It’s over, we must move forward – not forget, but live for those who cannot…’ Kitty’s voice snapped with annoyance.
Michael sighed.
‘I’m struggling with the humble life you want for us: the nurse and the doctor living in a quaint house in the north of England. The war brought out something inside me – a daredevil – which won’t go away. The war, it made me—’
Kitty cut in. She had heard it all before, and it irritated and hurt her that she was not enough for him anymore.
‘It brought out the need to rescue, yes, I understand that. I did it too, remember? But it will never be something we do again in such an horrendous way. Mentally, we can’t Michael. We can help rescue someone whose mind is in a dark place, the men and women who need help to adjust, but when we do, we must set aside our own demons. And we mustn’t add their fears to our own.’
Michael went to speak, but Kitty shook her head, her voice urgent and determined. Her husband had opened a door, and Kitty would not let this discussion slip away. She was going to walk through that door with the confidence her fear had triggered.
‘Acceptance is a word which sometimes sticks in our throats, but we have to accept that war did more than kill people; it is because of them that we have to strive forward. If you’re running away, then go. We must…’
Kitty trailed off as she watched Michael give a slow shake of his head.
‘Michael, we must find a way to understand who we are now. We are the couple who ran onto French shores and worked around exploding bombs, and in Britain we crawled in and out of collapsing buildings, but it is over. We have learned how to live in a tidy house with a quaint garden for two years, and we can carry on if we accept this and not live in the past. At twenty-seven, I want the settled life we have. I am not sure I want dangerous adventures, and I’m concerned about you.’
Michael sat, his face expressionless.
For want of something to distract her from crying, Kitty snatched a pile of clean clothes from the linen basket and began folding them into neat piles, her hands trembling with emotion. Her mouth felt dry, but she couldn’t drink due to the lump in her throat as she held back the tears. How dare he say something life-changing and then go quiet on her like a sulking child? His recovery from the head injury was a thing of the past, but there were nights when a terrifying memory of their time during the rescue missions on Normandy beaches triggered him, and she would hold him, soothing him back to a settled sleep.
Kitty had always considered their marriage, right up until this moment, a strong one. They laughed together and faced daunting tasks as a couple, and Michael had never even hinted at wanting to leave the practice or his adopted country. She thought he was content with living in a village with a Canadian name – Quebec – and the north of England was where he wished to settle for his retirement. Kitty realised she must not know her husband as well as she thought, and it hurt. The sense of betrayal was like a knife in her heart, twisting with each passing moment. The pile of linen was attacked again, and she refolded each item. The scream inside her was only just kept at bay. It bubbled and brewed, threatening to create an argument she did not want to be a part of.
Michael remained silent. Trying to avoid her eye, he walked past her to the kitchen window, leaned on the windowsill and stared at their garden.
Kitty loved their garden; it was a place where she always found peace after a busy day supporting the clinic or local orphans. She had turned most of the area into fruit and vegetable patches, retaining one section to grow flowers, such as snowdrops, daffodils and primroses in the springtime, followed by clematis, forget-me-nots and wallflowers leading into the summer. After that, many roses and peonies would show off their beauty and fill the air with their fragrance.
‘Take a break. Book some time off, and see Smithy and Trixie. Spending a few days in Yorkshire and enjoying an ale with your best friend is just the rest you need, dear. You work too hard,’ she said gently, breaking the silence between them. ‘Or go and see a friend in Canada, but then come home. Just upping sticks without discussion is a bit much for me to understand.’
Michael did not reply; instead, he continued to avoid her eyes and walked past her into the garden. His soap-scrubbed hands scraped back his hair as he paced. Kitty could see he was troubled, but her Canadian hero was stubborn. She knew him well enough to leave him alone for an hour and then try to talk to him again later in the day.
Kitt
Their marriage was in crisis. Kitty knew she had to do something. She approached her husband before he met his first patient of the day. He looked tired, and she heard him tut when they met in the hallway.
‘Michael, I missed you at breakfast,’ she said. She knew he’d eaten – she’d seen dishes he had washed on the draining board. ‘When you have finished the clinic, please come and find me. We need to talk. This situation is unhealthy for both of us.’
Michael nodded and walked into his surgery, closing the door without a word. The silence that followed fell heavy on Kitty’s shoulders. In previous conversations he had always blamed the war for making him unsettled – a constant cycle of blame. Kitty resigned herself to listen, but now felt she had to speak out. She had to take control of the situation, but his silence as he walked away was a stark reminder of the growing distance between them.
When she heard his clinic door open three hours later and his last patient call out ‘goodbye’, Kitty rushed from cleaning the front parlour, prepared a pot of tea for them and took it into the back room, which looked out over the garden. They called it the snug. Michael often said it was his favourite room and would sit reading there on days when they could not get out to walk. Having wiped the surfaces with rose water to make the room smell homely, Kitty hoped he might sit and rethink his startling decision to leave Britain.
Today was their anniversary, a pleasant spring day, just like the day they married, a year after Victory in Europe Day. She’d had other plans for today, and the gift of a navy and pale blue cravat in cotton sat in the drawer beside her bed. She had chosen cotton as the traditional symbol to celebrate two years of marriage and had planned to surprise Michael with it later in the day, after the village remembrance service.
But for the past few days she had agonised over one question that nagged at her. Had they been so caught up with the end of war that they had grabbed what they thought would make them happy – marriage?
‘I’ve taken us tea through into the snug,’ she said before he could find a way out of talking to her.
Michael said nothing; he walked into the room, and she watched as he went to the table, poured himself a cup from the teapot and stood by the window, cup in hand.
‘Busy morning?’ she asked, unsure why, because she had seen the steady flow of patients walk the front path and knew it had been.
She poured her tea and waited.
Michael nodded, but didn’t turn around; he continued looking out of the window. Kitty wondered if he was waiting for her to broach the subject of him leaving, and then explain his plans for them. The atmosphere was heavy with silence as each waited for the other to say something. But Kitty was no longer prepared to hope life would go back to how it was. Getting him to finally explain himself was the only way forward.
Chapter Two
‘Are you ready to talk?’ Kitty asked, waiting for Michael to finish his tea, clear his head and speak, but he just stared out of the window. Only the clock in the hallway made a sound as it ticked away the day.
She heard his cup rattle slightly in its saucer, and Michael placed it on the windowsill. And turned to face her.
‘I can’t live like this anymore. The walls of Great Britain are suffocating me. I need open spaces again.’
Kitty gave a huff. ‘You liked it well enough to live here for years. To train here – and get married. Two years ago today, by the way.’
‘Happy Anniversary,’ she added with a touch of sarcasm.
Michael walked over to the mantelpiece and picked up their wedding photograph. He looked at it and then looked at her.
‘Our wedding is not a day I regret. What I do regret is not having control over this need to become Canadian again. My family’s blood is pure, and I know that the day we have a child, it will be mixed, but for some reason, I need—’ Michael’s face flushed as he hesitated ‘—I need my children to be Canadian-born. As an orphan yourself, I hope you understand. I’ve been here a long time, and now it is time to return.’
His words hit her like a cold wave, her breath hitched in her throat, and with a steady hand Kitty took the photograph from him.
‘All I see in this picture is two people in love, and not once have I thought that marrying a Canadian would weaken my British blood – my English bloodline. All I’ve wanted to do since you proposed is marry you and, if blessed, have children, then live out our lives together until the end. But I am obviously not enough for you.’ Kitty sniffed back a sob. Now was not the time to cry.
‘I … I can’t,’ Michael said, almost apologetically, and touched her arm. Kitty pulled away.
‘You can’t what? Stay?’ she asked.
Michael nodded.
Kitty suddenly felt she was holding him back. Their marriage was not enough for him. It did not give him the adventure he yearned for, and she could not provide him with pure Canadian children.
‘Maybe we must consider getting divorced so you can marry a true Canadian woman, if that is what it takes to make you happy,’ Kitty snapped at him sarcastically. She wanted a reaction. The tension in her throat made it ache, and she moved her head from side to side to ease the discomfort. She had never had the need to consider divorce or separation; her words now were simply to snap him out of his mood.
‘Divorce?’ Michael asked, and Kitty heard a heavy sadness in his sigh. She watched him slump into the armchair and put his head in his hands. ‘I’ve put your name down to travel with me – my wife,’ he said, his feet tapping the floor agitatedly.
Confused by his reaction, Kitty thought for a moment before she responded.
‘Michael, why would I want to travel with you now? You have made your point. I am not a true Canadian.’ Her voice was tight with emotion.
Michael looked at her and shrugged, then lowered his head again.
‘Do you have pain? Is something hurting? Are you worried about your head again, and that’s why you want to return to Canada? To go back to the hospital?’ Kitty asked gently, her chest aching with distress at his words and seeing him so upset.
‘I bought your ticket and assumed you would come with me, you are my wife after all,’ he said ignoring her question.
Anger bubbled. How dare Michael take her for granted, assume that she would give up her life in England and go with him, without any discussion or consideration for her thoughts on the matter.
‘Assumed I would do my duty as your wife? Well, if it is for medical reasons, of course I’ll drop everything. But anything else, it would have been courteous of you to have asked me what I think of the idea of leaving, and so soon!’ Kitty replied.
Michael continued tapping his foot and wringing his hands.
Something didn’t seem right. Michael was far too edgy, and she suspected he was holding something back. She paced around the room. Her breath was heavy in her chest, and her head swam with confusion.
‘So, if it isn’t medical, what is it? Another woman?’ Kitty’s voice nipped the air.
