Chapter 1
April 1941
It was all over Silverdale by suppertime. A telegram had come. Ida Wilcox had got a telegram.Thetelegram.
Bobby Bancroft was in the Golden Hart, buying herself a drink to warm up after a chilly shift at the ARP shelter on the village green, when she heard the news.
‘You’ll know all about it, I reckon,’ said the landlady, Lizzie, as she poured Bobby a half of brown ale.
‘All about what?’
‘Have you not heard? I thought you’d be first to get news, you being from t’ paper.’
It always amused Bobby, the way the Silverdale folk saw no difference between their own little magazine about the Dales –The Tyke– and national newspapers such asThe TimesorThe Daily Telegraph. But the landlady had an earnest expression on her face, so Bobby suppressed her smiles.
‘There’s been talk of nowt else in here all night,’ Lizzie said as she pushed the brown ale across the bar. Bobby rummaged in her tunic pocket for sixpence.
‘Beer keeps getting weaker, but price of a pint keeps going up,’ a man at the end of the bar observed mournfully as he watched Bobby pay for her drink. ‘Every ounce o’ water they put in adds another farthing. Bloody Germans.’
Bobby nodded in sympathy before turning her attention back to Lizzie.
‘Is there some war news?’ she asked. ‘I’ve been on duty, so I haven’t listened to the wireless tonight. Something good, I hope.’
‘Nay, summat bad. The worst sort o’ bad.’ Lizzie lowered her voice. ‘Ida Wilcox’s youngest. Billy, as went for the merchant navy.’
‘Oh no. He isn’t—’
‘Missing, but they don’t have much hope. Ship went down. One o’ them U-boats, they say. And him nobbut nineteen – a bairn, I call that.’
‘What an awful thing to happen,’ Bobby said with feeling. ‘Poor Ida.’
‘That’s three village lads now as won’t be coming home. Tell you what, I could wish this business over tomorrow – even if it meant a Swastika flying up the flagpole on the green.’
Bobby shook her head. ‘You don’t mean that.’
Lizzie sighed. ‘Well, happen you’re right. I’m angry, that’s all. Them lads deserved better. They all do.’
‘How’s Ida bearing up?’
‘She were out milking her little goat when I went over with a packet o’ dripping for her supper. Putting a brave face on, as she does, but white as white. Hit her hard, that’s my feeling.’
‘I’ll go over this weekend with Mary and take her something. We’ve a block of new cheese in the larder. I’m sure the Athertons would want to make her a present of it. Lord knows I’d be hard pressed to muster energy to feed myself after a shock like that.’
Lizzie smiled. ‘That’s Silverdale way, right enough. When we can’t bring comfort any other road, we can allus help out with a square meal. You mun be going native, Miss.’
‘I hope you’re right.’ Bobby took her drink, then hesitated. ‘Um, has my father been in tonight?’
‘Aye, he were in an hour or two sin. Laiking at dominoes wi’ Pete Dixon.’
‘Did he stay long?’
‘Nobbut an hour, I reckon. Why?’
‘No reason. I was just wondering if he’d left the house today.’
Lizzie took up a cloth and started wiping down the bar. ‘Does him good to get out, I should say.’
‘Yes. I suppose so.’
