‘Because of me and who I am, and you and who you are. Because of the war.’
‘You won’t give a man who’s off to war something worth fighting for? Worth dying for?’ His voice was soft, as soft as his lips on her skin, and she could feel herself weakening. ‘We don’t have to marry right away, darling. We can wait until the war is over, if that’s what you want. I don’t mind waiting for you if I know you’ll be mine at the finish. All I want from you now is a promise.’
Bobby shuddered, and Charlie looked up from her neck. ‘What is it?’
‘Please don’t talk about dying.’ The tear she’d been holding back slid down her cheek. ‘I… can’t bear it.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t ask me any more, please. Just let me think. I need time to think it over.’
‘But you’ll give me an answer? Before I go, you’ll give me your real, final answer?’
‘Yes.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Yes, I owe you at least that.’
He looked out of the window. ‘It’s still raining hard. I hope it lets up before dark. You get some sleep if you like. I’ll keep watch and wake you when it stops.’
Bobby could already feel her eyes closing. Their conversation had drained the last of her energy, and she was having to fight her body to stay awake.
‘Charlie?’ she murmured.
‘What is it?’
‘I do love you.’ She pressed a kiss to his lips. ‘I hope you know… whatever answer I give, that’s how I feel. I always will.’
‘I’ll never understand you if I live to be a hundred,’ he said gently, smiling as he brushed her damp hair away from her face. ‘Perhaps that’s why I’ve always found you so hard to resist. There’s no one quite like you, Bobby Bancroft.’ He kissed her forehead. ‘I’ll see you when you wake up.’
When Bobby awoke, the rain had died down to a drizzle and the sun was glowing weakly through the grey clouds. She could see at once that Charlie had failed to keep his promise to stay awake. He was sleeping at her side, one arm over her body and with a little corner of the greatcoat she’d been using as a blanket pulled over him for warmth.
Bobby was about to wake him, but she couldn’t help pausing a moment to look at him as he slept. His mouth was open, the brown curls still damp from the rain sticking to his forehead. He looked young and boyish – too young to be risking his life in the skies. And yet she knew, in her heart, that Charlie could never like or respect himself if he didn’t do what he saw as his duty. She couldn’t wrap him in cotton wool because he was hers, no matter how much she wanted to. If all English women behaved so with their men, Hitler’s war would be won – and then where would humanity be? But as much as she respected Charlie for doing what he believed was right – as much as she herself felt it to be right – she wished it didn’t have to be that way.
For a moment she stroked his hair, watching him sleep. Bobby had spent many sleepless nights agonising over what answer to give Charlie, but she had given very little thought to what their actual married life might be like. For the first time since he’d started proposing to her, she realised that waking up every morning with Charlie Atherton sleeping beside her, safe and content in his arms, was something she could heartily wish for. She bent to wake him with a kiss.
‘Charlie,’ she whispered. ‘Time to wake up.’
‘An angel speaks my name.’ He blinked his eyes open and grinned drowsily up at her. ‘I must have died in my sleep and gone to heaven. Reggie will be pleased. He’s been warning me for years that I was bound for the other place.’
Bobby tapped his nose with her fingertip. ‘You weren’t supposed to be sleeping at all. It looks like the rain stopped ages ago. We’ll have to hurry down before it starts up again – there’s still an angry sky up there. You’d better stop flirting with me and get up.’
‘You’re right.’ He reclaimed his coat and sat up to put it on. ‘You will think about it properly, though, won’t you, Bobby? I mean, before you give me an answer.’
‘I will, Charlie. I promise.’
Chapter 10
They walked home in almost perfect silence. Charlie looked like he was a thousand miles away, frowning as he pondered whatever was preying on his mind, and Bobby’s thoughts were whirling too. Her brain was full of so many things: the odd little scene with Charlie in the hut, when he’d finally shared his full and unguarded thoughts with her; waking up in his arms, almost as if she was his wife already; the huge, life-changing decision she now had a mere month to make. Of course, it was only fair that she gave Charlie his final answer one way or another and let him leave for the RAF as either an engaged man or a free one. But every time she tried to think about it, her brain rebelled against what felt like an impossible choice.
She wished Lilian were here to advise her. In Bobby’s last letter, she’d begged her sister to visit if she possibly could, hinting she had big secrets to share that only a twin could understand. She was hopeful there might be a reply waiting for her today when she arrived back at Cow House Cottage.
‘What are you up to this evening?’ Bobby asked Charlie as they crossed the old packhorse bridge into the village, breaking a silence that had begun to feel rather gloomy.
‘Hmm?’ Charlie roused himself. ‘I don’t know. I might stop in at the Hart, perhaps. Gil Capstick will be in and he owes me a pint. I suppose you’ll be on duty in that horrible little ARP hut, won’t you?’
‘No, I don’t have a shift tonight. Mary asked if Dad and I would like to spend the evening with them in the farmhouse. Reg bought her some new gramophone records last time he went into town.’ She looked up at him. ‘Will you stay in too?’
He smiled, looking a little like his old self again. ‘Sit in the farmhouse all night with Reggie and your father glaring at me if I so much as glance in your pure and chaste direction? I’d rather have you to myself somewhere, thanks all the same.’
‘I’ll bet you would,’ she said, smiling too. ‘But stay in with us, though, please. I know it probably seems beyond dull to you, but I love those nights when we all sit together by the parlour fire. It does my dad good, and it feels… I suppose like we’re a little family.’
