‘I don’t think he meant to be snooty,’ Mary said. ‘He’s just that type.’
Bobby smiled. ‘What were you hoping for, Charlie? A fanfare and a parade? Maybe a medal or two each?’
He started the car. ‘Honestly, I’d have been happy with a round of jam on toast. It’s hungry work, carrying men down mountains.’
‘Reg will be hungry too, no doubt, and the children,’ Mary said. ‘I’ll make us all a breakfast as soon as we get home. Then it’s bed for everyone.’
Bobby shook her head. ‘Not me. I couldn’t sleep – not after that. Besides, I’ve got an appointment. I’ll need to go for the bus shortly after breakfast.’
‘An appointment? But you must be exhausted, Bobby.’
‘I am, but it’s not the kind of exhaustion that’s going to let me sleep.’ She shuddered. ‘I have to keep busy. Otherwise I’m only going to dwell on… things.’
‘Where are you going?’ Charlie asked.
‘I’m going to see Don Sykes in Bradford.’
Chapter 24
Despite Bobby feeling certain that she would never be able to sleep again after the things she’d seen the night before, there was only so much the human body could take before nature stepped in with a firm hand. In fact, she’d fallen into a deep enough sleep on the train from Skipton to Bradford that she almost missed her stop. Thankfully the Lord in his mercy had granted her a dreamless sleep, free of torturous images of the things she’d seen on the mountain, and she was at least partially refreshed when she stepped on to the platform at Forster Square station around midday and went to board a tram for Southampton Street.
Her first visit was to the family home, to speak to the woman responsible for supervising the soldiers billeted there and ensure everything was as it ought to be. There were some minor repairs needed to the roof, which she made a note of and promised to attend to. Then she paid a visit to some old neighbours, including Clara Stockwell, the woman two doors down from them who ran a boarding house. Clara gave her a warm welcome, commenting on her improved looks since she’d left for the country, although Bobby was sure she must look like a walking ghost after her exploits of the night before. Clara also confirmed she had set aside two rooms for them for Bowling Tide week: one for her father and Jake and another for Bobby and Lilian. Once she had completed her duties as a sister, daughter and landlady by proxy, Bobby was able to give her attention to the true purpose of her trip: a talk with Don at theCourieroffices.
When she arrived, she was disappointed to find Don wasn’t there. Only Tony was in the office, caught in the rare act of doing some work.
‘Oh. Hello,’ Bobby said when she walked in. As a former employee, she felt she was still entitled to the privilege of entering without knocking. ‘Where’s Don?’
‘God knows. At the barber’s, probably, making himself beautiful for you. He said we could expect you this afternoon.’ He glanced up. ‘You look shocking, Bob. Have you been out on the tiles all night or something? You must’ve been dancing up a storm to be limping like that.’
‘Tony, come on. Don must’ve said where he was going.’
He shrugged. ‘Said he was off to pick up some chips. We’ve you to thank for that, I suppose. He never goes out to fetch me food.’
‘Oh Lord, I’d kill for some chips,’ Bobby said with a heartfelt sigh, instinctively helping herself to her old chair. ‘I haven’t eaten since yesterday. I couldn’t manage a bite of breakfast this morning and there was no time to stop for dinner.’
Tony left off tapping at his typewriter and lit a cigarette, clearly exhausted by his exertions. ‘That little magazine running you off your feet, is it?’
‘Something like that. You can hear all about it when Don comes.’
‘You ought to learn to relax a bit, Bobby. Enjoy the finer things in life. It’ll put you in an early grave, working like a dog all the time.’
She smiled. ‘You mean I should be more like you.’
‘Maybe. I’m happier than you anyhow. You might take a leaf out of your sister’s book. She doesn’t let life weigh her down, does she? Knows how to have a few laughs.’
‘Well, Lil’s not me.’ She glanced vaguely at the papers spread out on her old desk. ‘Whose are these? Jem’s?’
He shook his head. ‘Jem’s gone, Bob.’
‘Oh. Yes.’ She ran a hand over her forehead. ‘I forgot. Sorry, I’m very tired. What’s the new cub called? Freddie?’
‘No, I mean Jem’sgone.’ He took his cigarette from his mouth, looking sober – an unusual occurrence for Tony. ‘His mam phoned Don with the news a fortnight ago. Killed in action.’
Bobby stared at him. ‘No.He can’t have been.’
‘Sorry, Bobby. There’s a lot I’ll joke about, but not that.’
‘But… he was so young,’ she said helplessly. ‘He was only eighteen, Tony.’
