‘I know he’d want you to have it.’ He glanced at Bobby, who nodded slightly. ‘And I wanted you to know, before you go… I’m right proud of you, lad. Not just for what you’re doing now. What you did the other day, bringing those poor wounded men down from Bowside and fighting off those old fools who’d have left them up there to die – the whole business took guts I never knew you had. You’ve the makings of a fine man in you, Charlie, and I’m sorry if it’s taken me too long to say it.’
Charlie turned away for a moment. Bobby could see he was touched and struggling with emotion.
‘That means a lot to me, Reggie,’ he said in a choked voice when he’d managed to get himself under control. He slapped his brother on the back. ‘You know, old man, I’m actually going to miss you.’
‘Aye, well, let’s not overdo it, eh?’ Reg said with a smile.
Charlie turned to look at Bobby. Reg gave a signal to Mary, who took charge of the children, and the rest of the household tactfully disappeared inside to let them say their goodbyes in private.
There didn’t seem to be any need for words. Everything important had already been said. They just came together and held each other tight, and for the last time, Bobby breathed in the scent of him.
‘You’d better give me your answer before I go,’ Charlie whispered after some time had passed.
‘Do I need to?’
‘I’d like to hear it. It’s been a long time coming.’
‘I’m sorry, Charlie.’ She swallowed a sob. ‘I’m sorry. I can’t.’
‘I’d wait for you, you know. I’d wait if the war lasted for fifty years.’
‘It wouldn’t be fair to ask you.’ She pressed her eyes closed but the tears still leaked out. ‘People must be mad to be making plans like marriage and families, now. How can they put down roots and talk about a future when tomorrow… tomorrow might not even come? When there might not be a free world for their children to grow up in?’
‘Because they need to,’ he said quietly. ‘To give them the promise of a tomorrow that’s worth fighting for. I know you don’t feel the same way as I do about it, but there it is.’
‘No.But I do love you.’ She let him go to look into his face, not caring what state her mascara was in. ‘I’ll never love anyone else, I swear it.’
He smiled sadly as he brushed a tear away with one fingertip. ‘You will though.’
‘I don’t want to.’ She felt almost angry at the suggestion. ‘I won’t.’
‘I wish it were true, for my own selfish sake.’ He planted a soft kiss on her cheek. ‘Please don’t write. It’ll only hurt. Let Mary do it.’
She felt her heart sink, realising that with this last request she was truly losing him from her life. ‘All right. If it’s going to give you pain.’
‘Take care of yourself, Bobby Bancroft. Try to find joy in whatever you choose to do with your life. If you ever change your mind and think you could find it with me, you know how to reach me.’
And he was gone.
Chapter 29
A couple of weeks later, Bobby was again stuffing envelopes with back numbers ofThe Tykeat her desk. Usually she was sluggish with this sort of work, not relishing the dull task, but since Charlie had left, she found the repetitive action somehow soothing. As she let her hands mechanically fill the envelopes, her eyes and her daydreams followed the birds that soared above the fells and disappeared into a slate-grey mid-June sky.
She thought of Charlie and wondered what he was doing right at this moment. At least for now she knew he was safe. He’d told her there was nothing but parading and drilling for the first eight weeks of training, so he couldn’t be in the air yet. Not that that stopped her imagination from constructing the most terrifying scenarios whenever she allowed her mind to wander to the memories of what had happened on the mountainside.
Mary had had one letter from Charlie since he’d gone. Bobby had watched her open it. For some reason, the envelope with its RAF censor stamp had sent a jolt through her. The officialness of it made him feel so very far away.
He had sounded jolly and happy in his letter, apparently settling in well and making friends among the other recruits he had been billeted with. He’d asked after everyone at home, including her father – everyone except her. The omission filled Bobby with a flat, empty ache, as if something had been scooped out of her insides.
The first Sunday after Charlie’s departure, Bobby had asked if she might be allowed to accompany Reg and Mary to chapel. She wasn’t a regular churchgoer and nor was she a Methodist as the Athertons were, but it was Charlie’s faith and she had wanted to say a prayer for him in his own place of worship. She knew the Dalesfolk who worshipped there would be welcoming to her, although she was an Anglican; there was little sectarian rivalry in the village except of the good-natured variety, usually enacted on the cricket field during the annual Church vs Chapel summer friendly. When the congregation had fallen to their knees to pray, she had done so likewise, clasping her hands tightly as she pleaded with God to keep Charlie safe. She poured into her prayer everything that was filling her heart, with all the intensity it deserved, but so many prayers of that nature must be drifting up to heaven at the moment that Bobby feared hers might get lost in the throng.
‘Got summat a bit more interesting than envelope-stuffing for you if you’ve had enough for today, lass,’ Reg said, looking up from his typewriter. ‘There’s a story I want for the August number that only you can get for me.’
‘Hmm?’ She pulled her gaze from the birds flying outside the window and gave him a vague smile. ‘Oh. That’s all right, Reg. I’m happy to do a bit more.’
Reg eyed her with concern for a moment before pushing himself to his feet with his stick and hobbling over.
‘What’s up then?’ he asked, not standing on ceremony as usual. ‘Still pining for the boy, are you?’
