Brighter Skies in the Dales (Made in Yorkshire #6)

Chapter 1

The darkness was thick when Bobby Atherton was awoken by the shifting of the little life inside her.

It wasn’t a kick yet – more like the butterflies that went with the anticipation of something pleasant.

It reminded Bobby of how she’d felt when she had seen her sweetheart Charlie, now her husband, striding towards her during their courtship.

The baby had proven as good as an alarm since he’d started moving, always waking his mother shortly before the clock rang to rouse her for work. As she snuggled close to Charlie, Bobby wondered if their child would always be so punctual in his timekeeping.

Charlie was murmuring fitfully while he slept.

Bobby had grown accustomed to the sound, and no longer tried to wake him from the nightmare.

Dr Minchin, who had been treating Charlie for neurasthenia since he’d been invalided out of the RAF a month ago, had warned Bobby not to wake her husband unless he showed signs of extreme distress.

This, the doctor said, was how Charlie’s brain was dealing with the things that had happened to him as a bomber pilot.

As upsetting as it might be to witness, Bobby must let sleep, the great healer, take its natural course.

The doctor was right: it was upsetting to witness.

Bobby had grown up with a father whose mind had been disordered by war and thought she knew all that it had to show her, but every mind was different.

Her father she could soothe with prayer or drink, but with Charlie she felt so powerless.

If he suffered a nervous attack whilst awake, she could comfort him.

But when the horrors came in his sleep… every night Bobby had to watch him relive terrible experiences in his dreams, unable to offer relief.

Charlie rarely woke himself with crying out as Bobby’s father did, but he tossed and flailed, and mumbled the names of friends he had lost, and sobbed softly in a way piteous to see.

For all that the doctor said he needed this fitful sleep, Charlie often awoke more exhausted than when he had gone to bed.

But when Bobby asked if he could remember his dreams, he always told her he couldn’t.

The right sleeve of his pyjama shirt had rolled up, and Bobby ran her fingers along his exposed arm. The skin from wrist to shoulder was mottled with cordite burns – a stark reminder of Charlie’s dramatic final mission, which had so nearly cost him his life.

She tried to make out what he was muttering. It sounded strangely melodic.

More than melodic, in fact. Was he… singing?

She laughed softly. He was! Bless the boy, he was singing a jolly little song in his sleep.

The sound of her laughter woke Charlie, who tensed, then relaxed when he realised he was in her arms.

‘Sorry,’ Bobby whispered. ‘I didn’t mean to wake you.’

Charlie rolled over to plant a kiss on her lips. ‘Did I wake you?’

‘No, your wicked offspring did. He’s dancing a foxtrot in my belly this morning.’

‘Too fond of a good time, that boy.’

‘Then he obviously takes after his father,’ Bobby said, returning the kiss.

‘What were you giggling about?’ He rested one hand on her burgeoning stomach. ‘Was naughty Marmaduke tickling you?’

Marmaduke was the temporary name they had bestowed on the baby, until his true sex – and hopefully, true name – became apparent.

Bobby smiled. ‘I was laughing at you, daft lad. Did you know you were singing?’

‘Was I? What was I singing?’

‘It sounded like’ – she let out a snort – ‘I swear, it sounded like “Do You Know the Muffin Man?”’

‘Gosh, that’s right,’ Charlie said, laughing too. ‘I was dreaming I was in our mess at Binbrook. The lads used to sing it as a dare, balancing a pint of wallop on their heads while they walked from one end of the hut to the other.’

Bobby smiled, pleased to hear that happier memories of the RAF sometimes inspired his dreams.

‘I remember O’Rourke tripping over his big feet and landing head first in Forrester’s lap, beer and all.’ Charlie laughed, but it faded away in a sigh. ‘Both gone now. Them and so many others.’

Bobby held him for a moment before she reached for the lamp.

‘You might as well go back to sleep,’ she said. ‘I can light the fire, then it’ll have the house warm for when you get up.’

‘No, I’ll do it.’ Charlie eased himself into a sitting position. ‘Bad enough you have to go out to work. At least let me manage the house until I’m back in a job. You shouldn’t be exerting yourself.’

‘Honestly, darling, it’s all right. It’s Saturday, don’t forget. It’s only a half day so I’m hardly going to wear myself out doing a few chores before work. I juggled my job and keeping house for my dad long enough, didn’t I?’

‘Not with Marmaduke to weigh you down.’

‘Marmaduke’s barely the size of a nectarine yet, the doctor says.’ Bobby fixed him with a stern look. ‘He also says I’m to make sure you’re getting enough rest. You’re still healing, Charlie.’

‘Oh, he’s an old mother hen. Sitting on my backside isn’t healing anything.’

Bobby got up to put on her dressing gown, the chill in the air making her shiver. ‘At least let me bring you a cup of tea.’

‘Bobby, there’s no need to fuss. I can make my own tea.’

‘Please, let me. I want to make you one.’

There was an embarrassed pause.

‘Go on.’ Bobby forced a smile. ‘Let me feel like a wife before I go out to work, eh?’

Charlie caught her arm and pulled her down so she was sitting on his legs.

‘Oh, you want to feel like a wife, do you?’ he said huskily, nuzzling her neck. ‘You should have said.’

Bobby giggled. ‘Charlie, get off. We don’t have time for that.’

‘I won’t have you complaining to Mary that your conjugal rights aren’t being respected. Why don’t you come back to bed for quarter of an hour?’

‘You can lure me into bed this afternoon if you like. Not now.’

‘Why not both?’ he murmured against her skin. ‘I’m a hot-blooded young husband.’

He pulled aside her nightdress to kiss her shoulder. Bobby let him continue for a moment, relishing the softness of his lips, before wriggling away.

‘We can’t, love,’ she said. ‘I’ve been late twice since I went back to work because of morning sickness, and you know how your brother gets. We can’t risk Reg realising I’m in the family way until we’re ready. He’s bound to let me go once he knows, and with you out of work we need the money.’

Charlie slumped against his pillow. ‘You had to remind me.’

‘Oh, you know I didn’t mean it like that.’ Bobby sat down by him. ‘It’s a fact, that’s all. Our savings won’t last long with neither of us bringing in a salary. We need to be putting aside as much as we can while I’m still able to work.’

‘What if I can’t find anything, Bob?’ Charlie said, rubbing his temple.

‘No veterinary practice wants a large-animal vet with a bad limp and one arm practically useless, and if I’m too broken for that, what else is there?

I was only good at three things my entire life: charming girls, fettling beasts and flying.

The RAF’s ruined me for the last two, and I imagine you’d have something to say about the first.’

‘I certainly would. I expect all your charms to be reserved for me,’ Bobby said with a smile. ‘There’s plenty of things you could do. You’ve a good brain, a good education, and you’re hardly long in the tooth at twenty-eight. Something’s bound to turn up.’

‘Huh. I wish it’d hurry.’

‘You only left hospital a month ago. Be patient.’ Bobby reached up to stroke his hair.

‘We’re all right, aren’t we?’ she said softly.

‘I’ve got my job, for now at least. We’re adding to our nest egg, little by little.

We’re home, we’re together, and best of all we’ve got Marmaduke.

It wasn’t long ago that my every waking minute was filled with worry about whether you’d survive the night, so I’m not going to complain that things aren’t quite perfect yet. ’

Charlie wrapped her in his arms.

‘You’re right. I’ve been given the moon and I’m complaining they forgot to put sugar on it for me,’ he said. ‘It’s a good thing I’ve got you to remind me what an enormous fathead I am.’

‘Yes, but you’re my enormous fathead.’ Bobby kissed his nose. ‘Come on. You can build the fire and I’ll make breakfast. How does that sound?’

‘Perfect.’ He released her so he could put on his dressing gown. ‘Just make sure you don’t spend too long jawing with Mary and Lilian after work. I haven’t forgotten that promise to let me lure you into bed on your afternoon off.’

Dawn was breaking when Bobby left for work. She paused to look at the cottage before setting out. She had only moved in two months ago following compassionate discharge from the Women’s Auxiliary Air Force, with Charlie joining her a month later, so married life was a novelty yet.

Number 4 Church View was the middle home in a row of seven that had once been almshouses.

It was small, the best she and Charlie could afford to rent: bedroom, parlour and kitchen, all on one floor, and an outhouse with a flush privy.

There was no garden, only a yard, but they did have the luxury of indoor plumbing.

It was modest, yes, but neat and snug, and Bobby couldn’t help feeling houseproud. The place wasn’t only her first marital home. It was also where she and Charlie would truly become a family when Marmaduke joined them there in spring.

Before leaving for work, Bobby had prepared breakfast, swept the flagged kitchen floor and made the bed, to lighten Charlie’s load when he tackled the daily chores. When she left, he had been sitting with The Veterinary Record, frowning over the vacant positions while he smoked a cigarette.

Bobby had cast a worried glance at his hands while she said goodbye. They shook so, these days.