‘Tony discovered a store of chivalry at the bottom of his third pint, did he?’ Bobby sank wearily into a chair. ‘I hope he looked after you properly, otherwise I’ll be writing him one of my famous sternly worded letters.’
‘Actually, he was rather sweet to me,’ she said, smiling. ‘I mean, he’s an incorrigible flirt, but I knew that of old.’
‘You should’ve come to find me,’ their dad said, folding up his paper. ‘I don’t like you girls hanging about wi’ that young nowt Tony Scott. He had a bad reputation back in Bradford. I’d have got you home.’
‘Tony’s not so bad,’ Lilian said. ‘He stopped any of those drunken old men trying it on with me – actually defended my honour when one of them tried to get friendly while he was out fetching us both a drink. I’d have been a sitting duck for them with my ankle out of action.’
‘Didn’t Pete pass on my message, Dad?’ Bobby said. ‘I bumped into him outside the beer tent and asked him to let you know Lil was hurt and needed a lift.’
Their dad shrugged. ‘Probably forgot. He’s had other things on his mind today.’
Bobby smiled dryly. ‘You mean the illegal book he was running on the prizewinners, I suppose.’
He glanced at her curiously. ‘What do you know of it?’
‘Oh, he was very frank when I caught him taking bets. Owned up to it like a man.’ She caught his worried look. ‘And yes, he did tell me you’d put a bet on too.’
‘Happen you’re going to lecture me about it now, are you? It’s only gambling, Bobby. Bit o’ fun, that’s all.’
She sighed, leaning back and closing her eyes. ‘No, I’m not a complete stick-in-the-mud. I know men will have their fun at these feast days and there are worse ways to enjoy yourself. I just worry you’ll get into trouble, Dad. It is against the law, unlicensed gambling.’
‘Betting on farm animals at a few bob a time? I doubt they’ll clap us in irons for it.’ He took a note from his pocket and held it out to her. ‘Anyhow, my luck was in today. You can add this to t’ housekeeping. Call it my wages.’
Bobby stared at it. ‘Ten bob?’
‘Aye, that’s right – I won a quid on my little flutter today. There’s ten for you from my winnings, five for Lil to treat her friends down south and I’ll keep five back to stand Pete a pint or two tomorrow night for the tip he gave me on that tup.’ He looked pleased with himself. ‘Not bad for an afternoon’s work, eh, girls?’
‘No.I suppose not,’ Bobby said, staring at the note in her hand. Ten shillings was certainly going to be a help on her low salary. And yet somehow, it worried her.
‘You ought to be careful what you let this Pete Dixon drag you into, Dad,’ Lilian said. ‘Poaching the odd bird is one thing, but it sounds like he’s running all sorts of fiddles.’
‘Oh, Pete’s a sound lad,’ their dad said, picking up his paper again. ‘He knows what he’s about, and so do I. We aren’t bairns, Lil.’
Bobby was too tired that night for much bedtime conversation with her sister. The visit ended far too soon, with Lilian leaving the next morning to head back to Greenwich. Bobby had hoped that her twin’s presence might help her find the answers to what she now thought of as The Charlie Problem, but when her sister left again, she felt just as confused as ever.
Time ticked on, with Charlie’s leaving date growing ever closer. Every night that Bobby wasn’t on duty at the ARP hut they spent together – either playing with the two Parry girls outside the farmhouse in the warm, mellow evening sunlight, holding on tight to each other at the cinema in Settle, swinging each other around the dance hall or sitting with the rest of the family by the fire at Moorside. On Sundays, they would pack a picnic and head up into the fells for a walk, although Charlie still hadn’t kept his promise to take her right to the summit of Great Bowside before he left.
The time they spent together in those last two weeks was some of the happiest of Bobby’s life. They kept their pact not to mention either marriage or the war, and for a little while she could forget about Charlie leaving and the awful choice she had before her. It felt like they were just an ordinary, happy pair of young people in love, with no war and no adult cares to spoil their time together. Whenever a voice whispered in Bobby’s ear that it couldn’t last – that a choice had to be made one way or another, and soon – she squashed it down. Because why shouldn’t she enjoy these last moments in her lover’s company? Why shouldn’t she savour his kisses and hold his body close when they danced, the way young sweethearts had done for centuries? This was her last chance. Whatever choice she made, Bobby knew that after this she never could be just a young woman in love again.
And then… there were only three days left.
‘What’s ailing thee, lass?’ Reg said to her one day as they worked. Bobby had been typing up her report on the show for the next issue, but her mind had wandered and she found herself staring out of the window at the birds soaring overhead in a glowering steel-grey sky.
‘Hmm?’ She roused herself. ‘Sorry, Reg. I was… daydreaming.’
‘Don’t pay you to daydream, do I?’ He squinted at her. ‘Sleeping all right, are you? You look tired.’
‘I’m OK. I had a late shift in the shelter last night.’
‘Well, look after yourself. Wrap up warm. You could catch your death sitting in that tin hut.’ He smiled as the door edged open and a little black-and-white muzzle appeared. ‘Heyup, here comes trouble.’
It was true that Mary and the girls were under strict instructions from Reg not to let Ace into the parlour while he and Bobby were working. It was also true that no amount of strict instructions could prevent the little puppy from sneaking in, since Reg rewarded him with a dog biscuit from his desk drawer whenever he appeared.
Ace approached Reg’s desk, wagging his tail hopefully, and Reg picked him up to sit on his lap.
‘Escaped again, have you, Mischief?’ he said, letting the dog lick his cheek. ‘Don’t know how I was ever talked into letting you stay. That brother of mine’s a menace. This place gets more like a home for waifs and strays every day.’
Ace blinked at him, and Reg, smiling, gave him the biscuit he’d been angling for.
