‘Of what?’
‘Of your father,’ he said in a low voice. ‘And of Reggie. Those men who saw the things they saw in the last war. Things are bad down in London. The newsreels, the wireless, the papers – they’re only telling us half the story, I’m certain of it.’
Bobby thought back to her time working for theBradford Courierand the strictly controlled information they were allowed to give about the progress of the war. ‘I think you’re right. Are there homes for them all?’
‘That’s what worries me – the sort of homes they’re likely to find when they’re standing about waiting to be claimed,’ Charlie said, scowling. ‘Mildred Shackleton was poking and prodding at them like cattle at market. She’s meaner than a miser, that woman, and her husband’s no better. If they’re giving a home to bairns that aren’t theirs, it’s not for any Christian reason. They’ll expect them to work, and they won’t be the only ones.’
‘She wouldn’t be unkind to them, would she?’
‘She won’t be unkind, but the Shackletons never do anything for anyone unless they think there’ll be a return on their investment. The children I’m really worried about are those too sickly or tiny to work though. People here aren’t cruel, but they have to work to survive. Graft at an early age is a normal part of life. They don’t want to be saddled with outsiders who can’t bring anything into the household.’
‘I thought families had to take them if they had space.’
‘Well, yes, they can be fined if they refuse, but I’ve a feeling there are some who would rather take a few quid fine over a child.’
Bobby sighed. ‘I wish we could offer to have one. But the cottage is so small and cold, and my dad… The sort of nightmares he has would terrify a bairn. When he wakes up screaming… No, I couldn’t bring a young one into a home like ours.’
‘Does your father still suffer?’
‘Not so much as he did in Bradford, but he’ll never be cured.’
‘No.I don’t suppose any of them will.’ Charlie looked at her. ‘You know I’d take care of him too, don’t you? If you said yes, I mean. I’d make sure you were both looked after.’
‘He’d hate to feel he was being supported by any other man. He’s got his pride, Charlie.’
‘Then we’d make sure he never knew it.’ The rain was driving thick and fast now in the strong hilltop wind, blinding them as they slid this way and that in the mud. Charlie pointed to the hut, now no more than two hundred yards away. ‘Come on. We can shelter inside until this squall blows over.’
Bobby hung back. Charlie turned to look at her.
‘What’s wrong, Bobby?’
She wasn’t sure what to say. They’d never been completely alone before in a place as isolated as this. Charlie wasn’t one of those men who feigned deafness when a woman told them no. She did trust him, but… could she trust herself to say no if the time came?
‘Well, a girl has her reputation to think about,’ she said lightly, attempting to make a joke of the situation.
‘We can’t go back down in this. It isn’t safe. I can barely see my hand in front of my face.’ He nudged her. ‘I won’t tell if you don’t, all right? Your precious reputation will be safe with me.’
The rain really was bad, and a distant rumble of thunder had broken out. Unable to think of further arguments, Bobby followed Charlie to the hut.
Chapter 9
The hut’s door was wedged slightly ajar, stuck in thick mud, and Charlie had to heave it fully open with his shoulder before they could get in. Inside was a small stone bunk, with little else present but a ewe and lamb who had wandered in to seek shelter from the elements. The young mother humphed at the human intruders before trotting out with her little one.
The sheep left a smell behind them that Bobby would once upon a time have found unbearable, but now, after months of country living, she found it to be rather comforting. It wasn’t a pleasant smell, but it was pungent, earthy and real, and it belonged to the Dales. As long as she was somewhere that smelled like the old hut did – of earth and dung, and fresh rain and wet sheep – Bobby knew she was safe.
Charlie wrinkled his nose at the smell. ‘You see? Hardly a seducer’s lair, is it?’
She smiled. ‘I suppose not. I feel guilty for depriving the sheep of their shelter though.’
Above them, they heard the low drone of a bomber from the airbase.
‘Sounds like a Halifax,’ Charlie said. ‘I don’t envy those boys flying in this weather. I wonder they haven’t been grounded until it blows over. Still, I don’t suppose the German bombers stop for wet playtimes, do they? I’ll be up there myself soon enough.’
Bobby sighed. ‘I know you will.’
Charlie glanced out of the glassless square that served as a window, watching the thick blobs of rain pelting the moor from the black cloud overhead. ‘The thunder seems to have stopped, but this rain might take a while to clear. Get as comfortable as you can, Bobby. I’ll take the first watch.’
He took off his coat and laid it on the stone bed for her, then went to stand by the door like a sentinel.
