Chapter 20
Bobby felt her spirits rise as she laid out the treats she had bought for Charlie on the kitchen table.
It looked like the contents of a Red Cross parcel.
They would have salmon on toast with fried tomatoes and onions, followed by tinned peaches and custard for a pudding, then a glass of beer each and a cigarette for Charlie.
Now her worries about Marmaduke had settled, Bobby’s appetite had returned with a vengeance.
She felt quite ready to do the little homecoming feast justice.
Once she had prepared the food, she carried it into the parlour on a tray. Charlie was holding a sheet of newspaper against the fireplace as he coaxed the coke in the grate to catch.
‘We won’t eat at the table,’ Bobby said. ‘Let’s have it picnic-style in front of the fire.’
Charlie smiled. ‘That sounds lovely.’
The fire was crackling to life by the time Bobby had arranged a blanket on the floor, lit a candle and poured them each a glass of beer. Marmaduke had woken up properly now, full of energy as he danced inside her. Bobby shivered happily with every movement.
She made a silent vow that after today, she would never again complain about her lot.
All her worries about her job, the wistfulness over her aborted WAAF career, paled into insignificance beside the welfare of her little family.
As long as Charlie and Marmaduke were healthy and safe, she would remember to be grateful.
‘This is a real party tea,’ Charlie observed, picking up a finger of salmon on toast. ‘It feels like the war’s over already.’
‘Well, what are you waiting for? Tuck in.’
Bobby was pleased to see that whatever emotions had been wrung from him over the past two days, they hadn’t affected Charlie’s appetite.
He made short work of the salmon, onions and tomatoes, and she only seemed to blink for the peaches and custard to disappear.
She, too, was hungry and ate her tea with relish, washed down with refreshing mouthfuls of beer.
‘How was it?’ she asked Charlie when he had finished.
‘I don’t think I’ve eaten so well since I left the Air Force.’ He gave her a peach-and-custard-flavoured kiss. ‘Thank you. But let’s keep treats for very special occasions, shall we? We’ll be living off our savings now you’re leaving work.’
He spoke gently, but Bobby felt chastened all the same. Perhaps it had been rather rash to spend all of her ten-shilling windfall so quickly.
‘I had thought of one way of adding to our savings pot,’ she said. ‘Your surgery.’
‘What about it?’
‘I know it’ll be a wrench for you, love, but there’s no point hanging on to your equipment until it’s obsolete, is there?
We can always invest in new instruments if you feel up to practising again,’ Bobby added hastily, seeing his solemn look.
‘We need money, and Lil and Tony are desperate for space. They can barely move for baby things.’
Charlie sighed. ‘I suppose you’re right.’
‘Will it upset you to part with it?’
‘It just feels… final, you know? As long as I had my surgery, it felt like my vet days might not be entirely behind me.’ He held up his hand and watched it shake.
‘But you’re right, it isn’t very fair on your sister.
Bill Lawrence might buy the equipment for the Smeltham practice, or put me in touch with someone who’d be interested. I’ll speak to him.’
‘Do you want another drink?’ Bobby asked, seeing that he’d finished his beer. ‘Or a cigarette? I managed to hunt down a packet of Woodbines. I know you prefer them when you can get them.’
‘Just now I want my wife.’
Bobby smiled as he wrapped his arms and legs around her from behind, his hands resting on her stomach.
‘I wonder what everyone will say when we tell them about the baby tomorrow,’ she said, rather dreamily.
‘Oh, I know exactly. The girls will squeak and jump up and down, and demand the right to choose the baby’s name and clothes.
Mary will hug you so tight it’ll leave a bruise, and immediately start picking out layette patterns.
Your dad will be gruff but secretly thrilled to pieces.
And Tony will probably make some off-colour joke about the conception. ’
‘It’s Reg I’m worried about. I hope he’s not cross.’ Bobby sighed. ‘I will miss the magazine. I wish your brother would consider letting me write for The Tyke at home. The doctor said it wouldn’t be dangerous, but Reg is so stuffy about those things.’
‘You might try asking.’
‘I might, but I’m not convinced it’s going to help.’
‘We ought to think about choosing some godparents, oughtn’t we?’ Charlie said, kissing her neck. ‘We haven’t had a conversation about it yet. Or about names, for that matter.’
‘I feel like I’ll know the name when I meet him or her. Like there’ll only be one it could be.’
‘Perhaps he really will be a Marmaduke.’
‘Perhaps,’ Bobby said, smiling. ‘I’m not sure what a Marmaduke would look like.’
‘What about godparents?’
Bobby pondered the matter. ‘I’d like to ask Topsy and Teddy, if you approve. Teddy’s a Catholic, of course, but I don’t think he’ll say no.’
Charlie nodded. ‘I was going to say the same. Who for the other two? Tony and your sister? I’m not sure how I feel about Tony Scott as the spiritual guardian of my firstborn, but I guess you’ll want Lilian.’
‘I wasn’t going to suggest Lilian. She’s already his aunty so I don’t think it would offend her if we asked someone else. The same with your brother and Mary.’
‘Who then? Jolka and Piotr? Or Don Sykes and his wife, since you’re godmother to their little lad?’
‘Not for this baby. I think…’ Bobby looked over her shoulder at him. ‘This might sound strange, but I’d like to ask Ernie King.’
Charlie frowned. ‘You want your old flame to be godfather to our child?’
‘He’s not an old flame – not exactly,’ Bobby said, smiling. ‘He was so good today when I needed someone, Charlie. It feels like it would draw a line under everything that’s happened between us. But if the idea upsets you, we’ll ask someone else.’
‘If it’s Ernie King you want, then Ernie King it is,’ Charlie said, stroking her cheek. ‘I’ll leave you to ask him, shall I?’
‘Thank you.’ Bobby rewarded him with a kiss.
Charlie seemed to drift into a reverie, his hands absently massaging her stomach. Bobby watched them move, feeling how the baby shifted in response. He did know when Charlie was holding her, she was sure. She wondered how.
‘What happened with your friend, love?’ she asked softly. ‘Did he know you were there?’
‘Yes, he was in surprisingly good spirits,’ Charlie told her. ‘He couldn’t talk much but he was still able to rib Willis about the NAAFI girl he’s been walking out with, and flirt with his nurses. He always did have an eye for the ladies.’
‘Did he look very frightening?’
‘The poor lad was wrapped up like a mummy. Every inch of him burnt. I can’t imagine the agony.’ He shook his head, brow lowering. ‘Too many boys are ending their lives that way. It isn’t right.’
‘He knows, doesn’t he? That he’s… that he doesn’t have long left?’
‘He knew.’
Bobby frowned. ‘Knew?’
Charlie hid his face on her shoulder. ‘We were only just in time,’ he whispered. ‘We got word the next morning that he’d gone in the night. I hope wherever he is now, it’s a better world than this one.’
‘Oh, Charlie. I am sorry.’
‘I’m not,’ he muttered grimly. ‘Every minute he stayed alive was pain.’
Bobby shuffled around. ‘Let’s leave the washing-up and have an early night, shall we? We can take the wireless in and have a cuddle. It’s the wedding tomorrow, and I’ll be in no mood to celebrate it if I don’t get some rest.’
‘I’d like that.’ He let her go so he could start collecting up the tea things.
‘By the way, you’ll be pleased to know I wrote to the Air Ministry on the train home,’ he said as he did so. ‘I popped it in the box in Leeds.’
‘Oh.’ Bobby had been so preoccupied with other things, she had forgotten about the DFC. ‘And… you accepted?’
‘Said I would, didn’t I? Not that I needed to write – they presume acceptance for things like this. I felt like I wanted to though.’
‘I thought seeing your friend might have changed your mind.’
‘I have to put my duty as a father and husband first. I do feel guilty, but Hynesy would have understood.’
Bobby remembered the letter that had come for Charlie, which she had thrown on to the coffee table with the rest of the post. She went to retrieve it.
‘I forgot that this came for you,’ she said, holding it out. ‘It’s a Skipton postmark. It couldn’t be about that job at the bank, could it?’
‘If it is, it’ll be a rejection.’ Charlie put his tray of crockery down to open the letter.
He frowned while he read it, Bobby watching him anxiously.
‘Well?’ she asked. ‘Is it a rejection?’
‘It’s… no. Well, yes, but…’ He sounded bewildered. ‘Here, you read it.’
Bobby took it from him.
Dear Mr Atherton,
I would like to thank you for meeting with me concerning the role of junior clerk at Skipton Penny Bank.
Unfortunately, it was felt your war injuries were such that it would not be possible for you to perform this role to the bank’s high standard.
However, on a personal level, I was impressed by your neat appearance, education and head for figures.
I would therefore like to ask you to consider another role.
My secretary, Miss Cummings, will be leaving the company when she marries next month, and I would take it as a favour if you would consider filling the vacancy.
The role does not involve significant amounts of time on your feet, nor handling money.
You would be responsible for typing, correspondence, office administration, taking dictation and keeping my appointment book.
The bank would also invest in shorthand training for you.
The salary may be lower than you are used to but is nevertheless a generous wage for the work: ￡3 per week, plus an additional ￡10 per annum marriage allowance.
You would also be entitled to an allowance of ￡10 per annum on the birth of your first child, with smaller allowances for subsequent children.
I would be grateful if you could write with your decision at your earliest convenience.
Yours sincerely,
Wm. Miller
Manager, Yorkshire Penny Bank
Bobby stared at the letter for a long time. Charlie had sunk into a chair.
‘A secretary,’ she said at last.
‘Women’s work,’ Charlie muttered. ‘Miller’s trying to do me a favour.’ He gave a hollow laugh. ‘I suppose he feels sorry for me. He knows a hopeless unemployable when he sees one.’
‘Three pounds a week,’ Bobby said, her eyes still fixed on the letter. ‘And an extra four bob a week marriage allowance, with another four when Marmaduke comes. He’s right, it is a good wage for the work. The Courier only paid me thirty bob as a typist.’
‘It’s a good wage for a single woman. For a married man, it’s insulting.’ Charlie rubbed his face. ‘Twenty-eight years old and the head of a family, and I’m expected to work for three quid a week.’
Bobby went to sit on the arm of his chair.
‘I know it’s not ideal, but it’s work, isn’t it?’ she said gently. ‘And while it might not be a great wage, it’s a quid more a week than I get on the magazine. We can make it stretch.’
‘But having to tell people I’m a secretary – a secretary, for God’s sake, and working for a woman’s wage!’ He laughed grimly. ‘I imagine Tony would crack a few jokes at my expense.’
‘Pay no attention to him. He can hardly mock your wages on what Reg pays him, and I know for a fact he was only on three pounds a week at the Courier.’
‘But it’s still a woman’s job. I’ll never hear the end of it from the lads round here.’
Bobby put an arm around his shoulders. ‘You don’t have to take it.’
‘Of course I have to bloody take it. What else is there?’ He sighed, and gave her arm a squeeze. ‘Sorry, I shouldn’t swear. It’s just hard to feel like the head of the family doing a job like that. And then I’m to be grateful for it, and take it as a favour!’
‘It doesn’t have to be for long. You can be keeping an eye out for other jobs.’
‘What other jobs? It’ll be even worse once the war ends and I’m competing with hundreds of demobbed men with two working arms and legs each.’
‘I’m sorry, Charlie.’ She stroked his hair. ‘You’re worth so much more.’
Charlie sat silent, his face dark. Gradually his expression started to lift, however, until he looked up with a smile.
‘I’m being an ungrateful swine again, aren’t I?’ he said softly. ‘Here’s fate, stretching out her hand with the means to provide for my wife and baby, and I’m turning my nose up because it doesn’t satisfy my pride.’
‘It’s understandable, when you’ve got a brain you’re desperate to use. I’ve felt that way all my life. That the world refuses to let me do what I’m capable of.’
‘And I should count myself lucky to be one of the more privileged sex, I know.’ He planted a kiss on her lips.
‘There. Take that as an apology, and consider me duly reprimanded for my ingratitude. I must admit, it’s a relief to know you can leave The Tyke without plunging us into destitution.
I couldn’t bear to have you working after what nearly happened today. ’