Epilogue
‘A little higher,’ Bobby said to Topsy as her friend stood on a ladder, attaching Union Flag bunting to the balcony in the ballroom at Sumner House.
‘I’m sure you time your babies on purpose to get out of the difficult jobs, Birdy,’ Topsy called down.
Bobby smiled and rested a hand on her lightly pregnant stomach. ‘If you’d been there during my last baby’s dramatic arrival, you’d know what a jolly difficult job this is.’
‘There.’ Topsy climbed down to examine her handiwork. ‘A little lopsided but I think we’ve made the place suitably festive.’
‘It is perfect,’ said Teddy, who was supervising proceedings from his wheelchair. ‘We will celebrate the end of that terrible war in fine style, as it is right we should.’
Topsy took his hand, and a look of quiet understanding passed between them.
Bobby had noticed many such looks since the news had reached them that all of Teddy’s Polish family had been murdered in one of Hitler’s horrific extermination camps.
In tenderly supporting her husband through his grief and even more through raising their child, Topsy seemed to have become softer and more thoughtful than she had been before.
Lilian came in, hand in hand with Annie, who beamed on everyone present with all the sunshine in her little soul.
Lil stopped to speak to Florrie and Jess, who were making paper chains on the carpet. Ernie sat between them, patting out a drumbeat on his round two-year-old belly. His awed admirer – Topsy and Teddy’s little girl, Abigail – watched in wonder at the cleverness of his music-making.
‘I don’t want to get you too excited, but I’ve just seen a trifle the size of Blackpool Tower being prepared in the kitchen,’ Lilian told her stepdaughters, the two Parry girls. ‘It’s so high that I could barely see Maimie behind it.’
‘Is there cream in it?’ Florrie asked.
‘And jelly?’ Jess chimed in.
‘There’s real whipped cream, an absolute mountain of it, and custard made with real eggs, and so much jelly you’ll have tummy ache for a year just from looking at it. It’s a proper trifle, with silver balls on top and everything, just like I remember from before the war.’
‘Gosh!’
‘And cakes too. Proper cakes, with egg and sugar and icing.’ Lilian lowered her voice. ‘I’ll see if I can pinch one to take one home with us. We can serve it to Dad as a lovely surprise with his evening pipe, can’t we?’
‘I want to give Dad the cake,’ Jess said at once.
Florrie, who at fourteen was indifferent to privileges like serving her father cake when she had hairstyles and film stars to think of, only shrugged.
Lilian left Annie with the other children and went to join Bobby, Topsy and Teddy. Bobby nodded at her son, patting his little bare belly to impress his friends. Annie seemed just as amazed as Abigail at this incredible skill.
‘Look at him there, flirting,’ Bobby said. ‘I ought to have known he’d take after his father.’
‘Let’s hope the next one’s a girl, then she can take after you,’ Lilian said with a smile.
‘What time is Tony coming?’
‘He’s travelling up from his barracks on the midday train. It was good of George to offer to forgo the party. We’re very civilised, but it still feels awkward to have my former husband and my current one mingling in company.’
Topsy smiled at her little blue-eyed daughter, who was trying to eat a paper chain link. Florrie spotted this in time, however, and quickly took it from her.
‘It’ll be lovely to see this place filled with children,’ she said dreamily.
‘We ought to have quite a collection to do justice to Maimie’s tea.
Jolka and Piotr are bringing Tommy and Maria, and your brother and his wife will be here with their little one, Birdy, and there’ll be Mabs and Gil’s boy Andrew, plus I don’t know how many from the village. ’
‘Aren’t you worried about your beautiful home being destroyed when they start romping?’ Lilian asked. ‘I must say, I thought it was very brave of you to offer to host the party when you have so many precious things.’
‘Or very foolish,’ Bobby said with a laugh.
‘Oh, no, not a bit,’ Topsy said. ‘It’s felt as quiet as anything since the RAF went away. After years in a cottage, I can’t even describe how big Sumner House feels to me now.’ She smiled, and took Teddy’s hand. ‘But we’re going to do something about that, aren’t we, darling?’
‘What do you mean?’ Bobby asked.
‘I told you that all Teddy and I wanted was to fill this place with children. Well, so we will. I’ve decided to turn it into a home for war orphans.
It’s foolish for just we three to be rattling around here when I could be doing some good with it.
I’m meeting with the trustees of a children’s charity next week to plan it all out. ’
‘Oh, I think that’s a lovely idea.’ Bobby gave her friend a hug. ‘This would be a wonderful place for children to grow up. If I can do anything to help, let me know.’
‘I’m sure there’ll be lots our celebrated author can help with,’ Topsy said with a smile. ‘I’m engaging you to cut the ribbon when we open the place, for one thing.’
Bobby laughed. ‘I’m not sure my name’s going to be much of a draw, but I’d be happy to.’
‘Come on, darling,’ Topsy said to her husband. ‘There’s still bunting to put up in the library. You had better make sure you’re there to catch me if I fall off my ladder.’
‘Your wish is my command, as always,’ Teddy said, kissing her hand. Topsy took charge of his wheelchair and they left Bobby with her sister.
‘Where could Dad and Charlie have got to?’ Bobby asked. ‘They were supposed to be helping put up the decorations, but they went out an hour ago on some secret mission and I haven’t seen them since.’
Lilian smiled. ‘Ah yes, the secret mission. You’ll see.’
‘What are you up to?’ Bobby asked, narrowing one eye.
‘Like I said. You’ll see.’
Charlie and Rob turned up twenty minutes later, along with Mary and Reg. All four were grinning in a way that made Bobby highly suspicious. Charlie was hugging a large cardboard box.
‘Why are you all smiling like that?’ Bobby asked. ‘And what’s in there?’
‘Come and see.’ Charlie put the box down.
Too curious not to comply, Bobby went to open the box. She drew out a hardback book with a colourful cover: one of several. The title was Lindy Langstaff, Pride of the WAAF, and the name underneath it was Roberta Atherton.
‘My author copies,’ she whispered. ‘Where did you get these? The publisher told me it would be at least a fortnight until they reached me.’
‘Pete Dixon were making a trip down to London yesterday for some shady business or other,’ her dad told her. ‘Slipped him a quid to pick these up and bring ’em back for you. We thought you’d get a thrill from having them today.’
Florrie came over to see what was going on, Ernie holding her hand and tripping over his feet in his hurry to reach his mother.
‘What is it, Bobby?’ Florrie asked.
‘It’s my story,’ Bobby said, showing her the book. ‘The serial I wrote for The Girl’s Own. A publisher contacted my agent and told him they wanted to make it into a book.’
Florrie stared at it. ‘Gosh. You wrote a whole book?’
‘I did.’ Bobby took a copy from the box and handed it to Florrie. ‘Here, this one’s for you. You know, it was really you who gave me the idea.’
‘Was it?’
‘That’s right. Seeing the wonderful stories you wrote for Annie made me remember how much I’d loved writing them myself when I was your age. That was when I came up with Lindy.’
‘Gosh,’ Florrie said again. ‘Will you sign it for me, Bobby? Then everyone at school will have to believe me when I tell them I know you.’
Bobby swelled. She had never been asked to sign her work before. Signing her own book, with her name right on the cover, would make her really feel like an author.
‘If you like,’ she said. ‘I’ll come over to you when I’ve hunted down a pen.’
‘I hope I get my name on a book one day.’
Bobby smiled. ‘Keep writing as well as you do and I’m sure you will.’
Ernie was fussing to be picked up, turning red in the face as he stood on tiptoes and stretched up to his mother. Bobby lifted him into her arms.
‘Look, Ernie,’ she said, showing him the book she was holding. ‘Your mam wrote a book. What do you think to that, darling?’
‘Trifle,’ Ernie said in a matter-of-fact tone.
He had clearly picked up the word from the conversation earlier, and although Bobby was sure he had never seen a trifle in his life, the reaction of the Parry girls had obviously conveyed the idea that it was something to be desired.
‘That’s rather rude,’ Bobby told him. ‘It certainly wasn’t a trifle. Actually it was quite difficult, with your lordship demanding all my attention.’
Charlie laughed. ‘Sorry, Bob. When you’re two, pudding is always going to come higher on the list of priorities than books even if your mam did write them. But I’m proud of you.’
‘We all are,’ Mary said. ‘Well done, Bobby.’
Her dad nodded. ‘Hear hear.’
‘Bobby, give Charlie the baby,’ Reg said. ‘I want a word.’
Bobby passed Ernie to his father. ‘Here. Try not to let him catch sight of any trifle before the tea, though, Charlie. I wouldn’t put it past him to scoff the whole thing by himself, even if it is as big as Blackpool Tower.’
‘All right, my lad, come with me,’ Charlie said. ‘At your age, it’s high time you learnt the proper way to make a paper aeroplane.’
‘What is it, Reg?’ Bobby asked when they were alone.
He rubbed his neck. ‘Well, happen this won’t mean much to you now you’ve got your books and that.
But with the war over and the paper ration hopefully on its way out, this could be a new era for our little mag.
I’ve got a list of potential subscribers a mile long, just waiting till I could get the paper to print enough magazines for them. ’
‘I know, you could make it a good little business once they lift the restrictions.’
‘Nay, not me. I’m getting to be an old man now, lass. And I must confess, while I wouldn’t mind contributing the odd bit now and then, I’d rather be up a hill looking for wood warblers or laiking with my grandson than subbing copy.’
‘You’re not selling the business?’ Bobby asked, frowning.
‘Not selling it. Giving it. That’s if you want it, like.’
Bobby blinked. ‘You want to give me The Tyke?’
‘Aye, if you’ll have it. Happen you’ll turn me down, now you’ve other interests that pay better. Not sure what I’d do with it then. Can’t really stomach the thought of some bowler-hatted type who don’t know what it’s all about taking it over. Anyhow, if you want it, it’s yours.’
Bobby laughed. ‘Reg… do you mean it?’
‘Course.’ He frowned. ‘Not saying you’ll take it, are you?’
‘Of course I’ll take it. I love that magazine – I always have.
And it won’t stop me writing my stories, now I can afford care for Ernie.
’ She beamed at the prospect. ‘I won’t let you down, Reg.
I know I can really make it something.’ Bobby rather shocked her brother-in-law by throwing herself at him for a hug.
‘Aye, well, no need to be soft about it,’ Reg muttered, patting her awkwardly on the back. ‘Congratulations, Bobby. You’ve always been a good lass.’
He wandered back to Mary, leaving Bobby to think over what he had said.
Her own magazine! She could hardly believe it. And she was an author too, a real one. An actual book had her actual name on the actual cover. Bobby still held one gripped in her hand. She felt like she needed to be touching it, just to believe it was real.
She looked around the ballroom, festooned with bunting as her loved ones prepared to mark the end of a war that had raged for more than five years.
A gramophone was playing music suitable to the occasion – ‘There’ll Always Be an England’, ‘The White Cliffs of Dover’ and other patriotic yet jolly tunes.
Finally, a war that had felt like it might go on forever had ended.
Fascism had been defeated in Europe, and all over the continent, people who had lived under the yoke of the Nazis were being liberated once more.
Everything Bobby had ever wanted seemed to be represented by what was in the room. She had her books, she had her magazine, and best of all, she had her family. The war was over and the children who were to celebrate here today would grow up in a world at peace.
Bobby looked at Charlie, sitting with Ernie on his lap as he showed the little boy the proper way to fold a paper aeroplane. Smiling, she went to join them.