Chapter 17 #2
‘What’s he say then?’
‘He’s planning to move here to Silverdale, at least until he’s seen whether he’ll be able to find work,’ Bobby said, skimming the rest of the letter. ‘I hope the family can stay nearby. Mary would be devastated if the children had to go back to London. So would Reg, although he’d never admit it.’
Her dad raised an eyebrow. ‘Moving here, is he? That must’ve been a good letter you wrote.’
She smiled. ‘No need to sound so surprised.’
‘Oh. Here.’ He fished in his coat pocket for an envelope. ‘Speaking of young Gil, I bumped into t’ lad on my way to the pub, getting ready to head down with this for you. Told him not to bother, I’d bring it back wi’ me.’
Bobby looked at the telegram he handed her, and felt her spirits sink. It had to be from Lilian.
She tore it open, still with the tiny flame of hope that something might have happened to prevent her sister’s marriage, but that quickly died when she saw the message.
It’s done. Tell Dad. There Wednesday week. Lilian xxx
‘What is it?’ her dad asked.
‘It’s from our Lil,’ Bobby said, endeavouring to keep any tremor from her voice. ‘She’s coming to visit next week.’
‘Again? She’s not long gone back. Happen the forces can’t need lasses as badly as all that if they’re giving them home leave every other week.’ He sank into his easy chair by the fire and started unlacing his boots. ‘Still, be good to see her, eh?’
‘It will.’ Bobby forced a smile. ‘You get warm while I serve up this soup. Your slippers are on the fender. Then I need to talk to you.’
He frowned. ‘What’s up wi’ thee? You sound off.’
‘Have your soup first. I know you must be frozen. Afterwards we’ll have a chat.’
Bobby took her time serving the soup. By the time she had sliced and buttered some bread, her dad was in a half-doze. She didn’t summon him to the small dining table, but served the meal on a tray so he could eat it at the fireside. It was too cold to move far from the flames that evening.
‘Dad?’ she whispered, pressing his shoulder.
‘Hmm?’ He roused himself. ‘Just resting my eyes.’
‘Here. Eat this up, it’ll warm you.’
‘You not having any?’ he asked as she took a seat opposite.
‘I’ve a shift at the shelter later. I’ll take mine in a Thermos.’
She watched as the spoon moved back and forth to his lips. His hand shook, as it always did – part of the legacy of his time in the trenches.
Bobby had made her choice and she was sure it was the right one, but still, she felt a worry verging on dread about how everything would work out at home.
Reg had said he couldn’t guarantee he would take Tony on, and even if he did, it was such a low wage.
For a man of Tony’s age – a man who would soon be the head of a family – accepting a salary of twenty shillings a week would be beyond humiliating.
Yet Bobby knew Reg couldn’t afford to pay more, when he was himself living on the subscription postal orders as they came in.
It was true that the job came with accommodation, but the draughty barn Bobby lived in with her father was hardly ideal for a young family.
It could feel crowded even for two, the thin walls making it feel as though there was very little privacy, and it was so very cold in the autumn and winter months – even in the summer there was a perpetual chill in the air.
When it was wet the roof leaked, and they were forever tripping over the pots and pans dotted around the place.
When the wind blew, which it invariably did, each icy blast howled down the chimney and crept into aching bones.
There was no plumbing, and the electric was unreliable.
Too often during periods of bad weather, they had to sit in the dark for days until a man could get to them from Skipton to fix it.
And then there was Tony. Her dad had long despised the man, whose reputation as a ladykiller had been well-known in the pubs of their home town, and Tony Scott with his ever-fragile amour propre was not the sort of person who would relish sharing another man’s home.
Both men would likely resent having to share the title of head of the household.
Supposing Tony decided his family would be better off in Liverpool, where higher wages were to be had, in spite of the bombings?
Lilian would be so isolated there, and so afraid for her little one.
Still, the idea of her dad being left alone frightened Bobby more than any of the alternatives.
No housekeeper could understand him the way his daughters did – not even Mary could do that.
Bobby knew he would feel humiliated at the idea of anyone outside the family knowing how he passed his nights – the tears and the screams – or how he struggled to resist the temptations of the bottle.
Feelings of humiliation and worthlessness had always been where the most danger lay.
Bobby had seen for herself the consequences of leaving her dad to dwell in the dark places in his head.
Her father needed someone who knew how to help him, Lilian and her baby needed a home where they’d be safe from danger, and Tony needed a job.
As imperfect as it was, this was the only solution that would give everyone what they required.