‘When we were told he were missing, I thought that meant we had hope. But it don’t. Our Billy’s just as dead as if it had been printed right there on that telegram. All it means is I’ll never get my boy back for a proper Christian burial. To think of him at bottom of the sea, left there like chucked rubbish…’
Ida looked away, her face working with emotion. Mary reached for her friend’s hand and there was silence for a time; nothing but the click of Ida’s throat as she fought against tears. Bobby, touched by the woman’s grief and a little embarrassed at being present to witness it, bowed her head.
After a moment, Ida dabbed her eyes with her sleeve. When she looked back again, she appeared as calm and composed as ever.
‘Well, there’s nowt to be done,’ she said quietly. ‘Whether there’s wars or whether there’s not, death happens. Always has, always will – you know that as well as I do, Poll. Nowt for those left behind to do but the job that’s in front of them, and that’s putting Billy to rest as best we can.’
‘Can I help?’ Mary asked. ‘Give me a task, Ida, for God’s sake.’
Ida patted her arm gratefully. ‘I’ll need help wi’ t’ wake, if you don’t mind. Lot of people to feed.’
‘Of course. Can’t see your Billy off without a do, can we?’
‘I could arrange the flowers,’ Bobby said, anxious to contribute something. ‘Lady Sumner-Walsh told me today that she’d like to do something in memory of Billy. I’m sure she’d be happy to contribute from her gardens.’
‘Thank you,’ Ida said earnestly. ‘You’re very kind. Everyone’s been… very kind. Now if you’ll excuse me, I must go look out at the bairns.’
Bobby was quiet on her date with Charlie that evening. They kept to their bargain that there’d be no war talk, and she changed the subject whenever he tried to tease from her what was tying her tongue. Nevertheless, she saw very little of the film he’d taken her to see. She was haunted all the evening by Ida Wilcox’s eyes, wet with the quiet devastation that came from knowing her child would never again come home. In the darkness of the cinema, Bobby held on to her lover extra tightly, her heart whispering a silent prayer that his loved ones, at least, might never know such a loss.
Chapter 8
The following Thursday, Bobby met Charlie in the village, where he’d been attending to a sick sheepdog of Myrtle Barraclough’s. Bobby was dressed in the slacks and boots she wore for roaming the fells, paired with a thick jumper and coat – no matter what the season, winter clothes were always needed on the tops.
She tried to ignore Mrs Barraclough’s suggestive raised eyebrow when she met Charlie at the old lady’s front gate. Together they took the footpath that would lead them out of the village and up on to the moors. Charlie, who had a sweet tooth and was usually carrying a bag of what Yorkshire folk called ‘spice’ in his pocket, offered her an aniseed ball to suck while he smoked a cigarette.
‘It’s nice to be allowed to see you in the daytime,’ he said when they were out of sight of the village, stamping out his cigarette so he could slip an arm around her waist. ‘Where are we going on our date?’
Bobby wriggled free of his arm. ‘The shepherd’s hut on Bowside, and it isn’t a date. You’re not to forget I’m on the magazine’s time just because Reg gave me permission to invite you. No cuddling, no kissing and definitely no proposals, all right?’
‘I’ve been a good boy, haven’t I?’
She couldn’t help smiling. ‘I’m not sure I ought to answer that.’
‘I haven’t proposed to you for over a week, at any rate. That ought to count for something.’ He glanced behind him to make sure they weren’t being observed, then leaned over to kiss her cheek. ‘We don’t have to go walking. We could hitch Boxer up to the trap and go to the pictures instead. You know the way to the shepherd’s hut well enough without traipsing all the way up there.’
‘We’ve seen everything at the pictures. Besides, I can’t afford to go that many times in a week.’
‘I was hardly going to let you pay, was I?’ He lowered his voice to a suggestive whisper as he brought his mouth close to her ear. ‘It doesn’t bother me if we’ve seen the film before. I just want to get you alone in the dark.’
Bobby felt her stomach flutter at the idea, but she fought against it. She stopped walking and turned to her sweetheart with a stern expression worthy of a particularly strict schoolmistress.
‘This is my work, Charlie,’ she told him with as much firmness as she could muster. ‘I’m glad to have your company today but your brother’s given me a job to do. If I ever want him to take me seriously as a reporter then my reputation depends on me doing the work he sets me, all right?’
Charlie kicked at a rock with his boot. ‘Yes, Miss.’
‘Oh, don’t sulk,’ Bobby said as she resumed walking. ‘We spend far too much time at the pictures as it is. People are starting to talk. Besides, it’s perfectly possible for us to have a nice time together in full daylight.’
‘Not as nice a time as we could have with the lights out.’ He nudged her. ‘Come on, Mistress Sensible, play truant with me for once in your life. You know you could write directions to the shepherd’s hut with your eyes closed. Why waste time walking there when we could be out enjoying ourselves?’
‘It isn’t just about the directions.’ Bobby looked out over the limestone-studded expanse of the moor, the face of Great Bowside looming dark and imperious in the distance against an iron-grey sky. ‘Most of the people who read the walks inThe Tykewill never do them. It’s about writing them in a way that evokes the landscape and the journey, so they feel they’re with you in spirit even whilst sitting in their armchairs. Making a story of it. Your brother says I’ve a flair for that sort of writing,’ she added, somewhat proudly.
Charlie sighed. ‘Well, he is right. You do have a talent for making a man feel he’s there on the spot. I suppose I can forgo fun in the dark for the sake of your career, since it’s so important to you.’
She smiled and rewarded him with a quick kiss, to the dignified shock of a nursing ewe nearby. Peace was restored, and this time Bobby didn’t object when Charlie slipped his arm around her waist while they walked.
‘I’ve got a theory about why my brother is suddenly so keen for us to spend time together,’ Charlie told her after a few minutes of comfortable silence.
‘What’s your theory?’
