‘Yes.’
‘What will you do then?’
Bobby shrugged. ‘I’ll cope somehow, I suppose. I don’t want to make things awkward for everyone here.’
‘I meant, do you think you might have something to say to him? A different answer, perhaps?’
‘It would be ridiculously arrogant of me to assume the question still stood after the way I sent the poor boy packing two months ago.’ Bobby flinched as the image of the burning body in the plane rose unbidden in her mind, which it did with unpleasant frequency. ‘No, Mary. Even if the question was repeated, as long as there’s still a war on then my answer would have to be the same.’
After helping Mary with her meal preparations, Bobby returned to Cow House Cottage to pack her and her father’s suitcases, ready for their trip to Bradford the following day. It felt like a long time since she’d really been able to get excited about anything, but she was rather looking forward to her week’s holiday. Lilian had been home for two days already, staying at Clara Stockwell’s boarding house on Southampton Street, and Bobby was eager to join her there. Sharing a room with Lil again, seeing Jake, Raymond, his wife Sarah and their children, the whole family back together… it would be just like old times. In fact, it would be better, because Dad was so much happier and healthier than he had been the last time they’d all been together as a family. She couldn’t wait to hear everyone’s news: to find out how Lil’s hunt for a husband was going; whether Jake was still walking out with Nessie Tate; and how her brother Raymond’s daughters, Susie and Rose, were getting on at school. There were old friends to catch up with too, not least the boys from theCourier– Don rarely mentioned his home life when he wrote to her, and she was anxious to know how his wife Joan was getting along in her pregnancy.
And then there was Bowling Tide itself. Bobby still remembered the excitement of the holiday week when she had been a child, when all the mills had closed and everyone in the city was in a festival mood. It had started with a parade through the streets, the sound of brass bands filling the air for miles around, and there had always been a big fair in what was known as the Tide Field. The fair had been heaven to a child. There were rides and roundabouts; coconut shies and other games, with sweet things and goldfish for prizes; fortune tellers, and Italian showmen playing musical instruments with gaily dressed little monkeys on their shoulders. Men had taken part in friendly matches in the boxing booths, and charabancs had driven people to the seaside for day trips. Thanks to the war there would be no coach trips to the coast this year, no Italian showmen, and, for the first time, the holiday was to be staggered over the whole month instead of a single week to prevent the textile industry coming completely to a standstill. However, Bobby was sure that even war couldn’t quash the spirit of Bowling Tide.
Once she had finished packing, she put on her slacks and walking boots, slung her gas mask over her shoulder and set off for the hunting lodge in the woods that was now inhabited by Piotr and Jolka. The invitation that had arrived from them had said there was no need to be formal or dress up, for which she was grateful. Topsy was taking Teddy and had offered to pick Bobby up in her car as well, but it was a lovely day for a walk in the woods. She was planning to take the scenic route.
It had been a rather uncomfortable July, too hot to be really enjoyable, but now August had arrived the temperature had fallen to something more bearable. Bobby breathed deeply as she followed the beck into the woods, where it widened to become almost a river. The valerian, harebells and knapweed that jewelled the banks gave the air in her lungs a sweet flavour. An imposing grey heron stood stock-still in the middle of the beck as Bobby passed, almost like a statue, waiting for its dinner.
‘Oh!’ she exclaimed after she had walked about a mile, stopping in her tracks.
It had been very fleeting, just a flash of dazzling sapphire against sun-dappled water, but she had seen it all the same. A kingfisher! Her very first kingfisher. Charlie had told her that August was the best time to spot them, when the adolescent chicks had learned to fend for themselves and were driven from the nest by their ruthless parents. He’d said that when a Silverdale kingfisher deigned to show itself to you, it meant you truly belonged here.
The first line of a poem beloved of her mother came back to her in a rush of ecstatic nostalgia.As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame…she wished she could remember the rest. The kingfisher had indeed seemed to burn with heavenly blue fire as it flashed by.
Bobby leaned back against a tree. Suddenly her heart was full and heavy; so heavy she felt she would be unable to walk for a moment. The beauty of the shy, fleeting bird and the memory of what Charlie had said overwhelmed her. How she wished he’d been here to share it with her! And now he’d never know, because he had chosen to banish her from his life utterly. She couldn’t even write to tell him about the Silverdale kingfisher that had finally sealed her acceptance in her new home.
The old hunting lodge sat in attractive leafy surroundings on the bank of a small lake. Bobby knocked on the door, which was soon answered by a willowy woman with thick black hair and lively, intelligent eyes. At her hip she held a red-cheeked little boy, half-asleep, who she bounced absently against her. This woman, Bobby assumed, must be the celebrated Jolka. She liked her at once.
‘Ah, now this is the rescuer of my Piotr who he talks to me about so often, I am sure,’ Jolka said with a beaming smile. She kissed Bobby on both cheeks. ‘You see, I greet you like an old friend, because all are old friends when you are in their debt.’
‘You’re not in my debt at all.’ Bobby looked at the sleeping boy. ‘This must be Tommy, I think?’
‘I shall tell you what it is. It is a little monkey who has been bothering his poor mother all the morning. I am very glad his father is at home and well enough to take him for spells, or the commission I am working on would never be finished. Now you will come into the back garden, Bobby, where your friends wait for you in the sunshine.’
Jolka shooed her inside like a sheepdog gathering her charges together.
‘We had expected you a little earlier,’ she said as she guided Bobby through the house. ‘I am afraid the tea is already out, but there is plenty left.’
‘Sorry. I, um… I saw a kingfisher.’ Realising this sounded rather odd, Bobby added: ‘You don’t see them often here. It was my first sighting.’
‘Oh, I should love to paint a kingfisher,’ Jolka said with a sigh. ‘I know there is no blue in the world that could do such a bird justice, but still, to have the opportunity to try! I wonder what trick would persuade one to stand still.’
Bobby laughed. ‘I’m sure they’d be far too shy to ever sit for their portraits.’
In the garden, a pleasant little tea party was taking place. Piotr was sitting in a wicker chair, the crutches he used for getting around leaning against it. Teddy was in a wheelchair, covered in a blanket, while Topsy stood over him, fussing. A cloth-draped table that had been taken outside from the house was laden with sandwiches and other tasty-looking food. In one corner of the garden was an easel and canvas, with a smaller table bearing the tools of a painter’s trade standing beside it. It looked out over the leafy lake, where a small, dilapidated rowing boat that had been moored to a jetty bobbed on the surface.
‘Ah, and here is our last friend,’ Piotr said, beaming. ‘Now our party is complete. Bobby, you must sit down and have a glass of the apple drink your friend Topsy brings us. It is quite refreshing on a hot day.’
Tommy seemed to be waking up now, blinking sleepily at these new people in the garden. Jolka took him to Piotr and stood the boy at his feet.
‘Piotrek, here is your son,’ she said, planting a brisk kiss on her husband’s head. ‘I will bring Bobby a chair from the house. See that he does not take all of the sweet things from the table before our guests have had a chance to eat their fill.’
Piotr laughed as she disappeared into the lodge. ‘You see, Bobby, when he is awake, he immediately becomes my son.’
Tommy was creeping towards the table now, and his father pulled him back.
‘You must listen to Mama, Tommy,’ he told the child. ‘Sweet things are for guests first. Do not try for your advantage because I am no longer able to chase you.’
Bobby smiled. ‘He’s welcome to my share. I don’t really have a sweet tooth.’
