‘All right, troops, to your stations,’ Charlie said. ‘Mary, you meet him at the door with his slippers. Bobby, make a pot of tea for us all.’
‘Was Gil able to sell you some tobacco?’
Charlie patted his pocket. ‘Reggie’s favourite Gold Flake. I’ll fill his pipe for him now.’ There was the sound of Reg’s key in the side door – no Dalesman would use the front door of his home unless there was a bride to carry through it or a corpse to carry out. ‘Let’s go.’
Bobby headed to the kitchen to boil the kettle while Mary went to greet her husband, but she kept her ears open for any snatches of conversation. Despite Mary’s assurances he could be talked round, Bobby couldn’t help worrying that Reg was going to be difficult about the two little girls. And yet it would be so good for him to have children around the place. It would give him something to enrich his life that wasn’tThe Tyke, which Mary worried he focused on rather too obsessively to be entirely healthy. It might also smooth away some of the rough edges that had developed through years of grief, pain and brooding. Bobby knew the Athertons had never recovered from the loss of Nancy, their one child, at the age of two. The Parry sisters could be just what was needed to help heal that wound at last.
‘Now then, our lass, what’s all that junk doing outside?’ she heard Reg say to Mary as he entered the house, his walking stick thudding heavily on the hall flagstones. He sounded quite jovial, at least for Reg – hopefully that was a good omen.
‘I took it down from the attic while I was cleaning,’ Mary answered. ‘Young Charlie’s going to break it up for firewood. Here are your slippers, dear, all warmed by the fire.’
‘The best of wives.’ There was a pause, which Bobby thought must mean Reg was giving his wife a kiss. She had long had her suspicions that her stern, taciturn employer was a fond, perhaps even downright demonstrative husband when there was no one around to observe him.
‘What are all these papers doing lying around the place?’ he asked next.
‘I told you, I was clearing out the attic. Never mind about them. Come into the kitchen and have a cup of tea – Bobby’s in there making a pot for us. Your brother’s filling your pipe in the parlour. He came back from the village earlier with some of your favourite tobacco.’
The pair of them appeared in the kitchen a moment later, Reg looking somewhat perplexed at the attentions being inexplicably heaped on him by his nearest and dearest. He glanced at Nancy’s old cot in the corner and frowned.
‘What’s that doing here?’
‘I brought it down from the attic,’ Mary said. ‘I was worried it might be getting swollen with damp, so I put it in here by the fire to dry out.’
‘Good evening, Reg,’ Bobby said brightly. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but Mary invited me and Dad over this evening to listen to those new records you bought her. I thought I’d come early to see if I could make myself useful around the place. The tea’s just brewing.’
Reg was still holding the slippers in one hand, as if he’d forgotten they were there. ‘Hmm. There’s something going on around here. What is it then?’
‘Now don’t be daft,’ Mary said, managing to recover something of her usual no-nonsense tone. ‘Sit down, take your boots off and have a cup of tea whilst I tell you about my day.’
‘There must be some womanish conspiracy going on if I’m greeted with warmed slippers and hot tea when I’m barely through the door.’ But Reg was half-smiling as he rested his stick against the fireplace and sat down at the table. ‘Well, Mary, let me hear what you’ve got to tell me. You two have heard some village gossip you’re desperate to pass on, no doubt.’
They were interrupted by Charlie, who entered bearing Reg’s pipe before him as if it was a royal sceptre.
‘Here we go, Reggie,’ he said. ‘I know you don’t usually smoke before supper but as you’ve no doubt had a long, cold trip into town, I think you might make an exception today. I got you your favourite Gold Flake for a treat.’
‘Not you as well,’ Reg said, shaking his head. ‘What is going on around here? I’m getting the distinct impression that an attempt is being made to butter me up. And if you’re in on it as well as the women, Charlie, then that really is something to worry about.’
‘Can’t a man bring his only brother a gift once in a while without being suspected of underhanded motives?’ Charlie glanced at Mary. ‘Although we did have some news to tell you.’
‘Ah. Now we get to the point.’ Reg looked suspiciously from Charlie to Bobby. ‘I hope this news isn’t anything to do with the pair of you. If it is, then you’d better let me know the worst straight away.’
‘It isn’t about me and Charlie.’ Bobby nodded to his wife. ‘It’s Mary who has something to tell you.’
Mary went to rest a conciliatory hand on his shoulder. ‘Now Reg, you mustn’t explode. After all, the attic was sitting empty apart from some old rubbish we could easily part with, and they’ve got to go somewhere.’
‘They? Whattheydo you mean?’
‘The children, Reg. The poor loves were bombed out of their home, and they’ve no mother. Well, I mean to say. How could I have walked on by and still called myself a Christian? You remember your scripture: “For I was hungry, and you gave me meat. I was thirsty, and you gave me drink. I was a stranger, and you took me in.”’
Mary’s voice had taken on a pleading quality, but Reg didn’t say anything. He just stared straight ahead as the truth began to dawn, his brow knitting into a scowl. Bobby shot a helpless look at Charlie.
‘Pass me my stick,’ Reg said quietly after a short time had passed.
‘Now, Reg, I hope you aren’t going to—’
‘Pass me my stick, Mary.’
With a worried expression, Mary handed it to him. He got slowly to his feet and left the room. A moment later, they heard him climbing the stairs to the attic.
