Charlie was out, meeting with Roger Turner to discuss the arrangements for their new practice, and Bobby had pulled her chair to the window while she worked on the second Lindy story. She was hoping to find inspiration among the crocuses and primroses in the churchyard. If she couldn’t get out to enjoy the springtime, she could at least make sure Section Officer Langstaff was able to do so.
It was Sunday, but there were to be no family dinners that day. Word had quickly spread of the row that had taken place between Lilian, Tony and the captain. The news that George Parry had had his nose broken by the jealous husband of ‘that Mrs Scott’ was being spoken of in whispers all over Silverdale, much to Bobby’s chagrin. She hated to think of her sister being the subject of gossip, especially when the connection with the captain had been – from a physical point of view, at least – entirely innocent.
Of course Reg and Mary knew what had occurred, and it was unavoidable that Bobby’s dad would get to hear of it. Neither he nor anyone else knew about Lil’s head injury, however, which Bobby was grateful for. She felt sure there’d be another broken nose in the family if her dad got wind of it, and this time it would belong to Tony Scott.
The whole family – Scotts, Parrys, Bancrofts and Athertons – were in a state of collective shock about the business. No one seemed to know how they ought to behave: whether they ought to still be on speaking terms with either Tony or the captain,how to keep George’s daughters within the fold now he and the Scotts were estranged, or who was ultimately to blame for what had happened. No one even knew what had happened, exactly. Only that Tony had suspected his wife and the captain, and had broken the man’s nose in a fit of jealousy. On top of that had come news of the breaking of George Parry’s engagement to Veronica Simpson. No one knew why, but gossip said it had been he who ended it.
Bobby, fingers itching as ever to fix things, was at a loss as to how they could move forward. Lilian and George had said their goodbyes, and yes, their relations would have to be different from now on, but where did that leave the children? It would be impossible to sever relations with George without losing Florrie and Jess, and no one could bear the thought of that. Mary was in some distress about it all. But how could things be managed, after what had happened? A sort of numb inertia seemed to have descended on the family, with no obvious next step.
Bobby watched as Florrie scuttled around the graveyard. What could the child be up to? After a moment, she put down her notepad and heaved herself to her feet to find out.
‘Florrie!’ she called on entering the graveyard, waving to the girl.
‘Hullo, Bobby.’ Florrie came running over to hug her around her huge belly.
Bobby smiled and bent to kiss her hair. ‘It’s nice to see you, sweetheart. But what on earth are you doing in the churchyard?’
‘I was looking for Georgia. I can’t remember which one’s her grave.’
‘Well, let me help you.’ Bobby guided her to the right plot. ‘Here she is, look. Why did you want to see her?’
‘To talk,’ Florrie said quietly. ‘Aunty Lil told me she always talks to Georgia when she’s sad and it makes her feel better.’
‘Are you sad, my love?’
Florrie nodded, brushing a tear away. ‘I thought I’d be happier than anything if Dad only said he wouldn’t marry that Miss Simpson, but I wish he would marry her if it meant… if it meant…’ She broke off to swallow a sob, and Bobby pulled her into a hug.
‘If it meant what, sweetheart?’
‘If it meant we could stay,’ Florrie whispered.
Bobby frowned. ‘Stay? Where are you going?’
‘Dad says we’re to go back to London. He says he’s caused trouble here and now we have to go.’
Bobby held her back. ‘Your father’s planning to move you back to London?’
Florrie nodded miserably. ‘Because of what happened with Mr Scott, when he hurt Dad’s nose.’ Her face took on an expression of defiance. ‘But I won’t go, Bobby. I’ll… I’ll hide and not go. I want to stay here, with Mary and you and Aunty Lil. I don’t see why me and Jess should have to go away just because Dad did something wrong.’
‘No,’ Bobby said absently, her thoughts on this new development.
It had never occurred to her the captain might take his children away as a result of what had happened, but of course it was logical. She knew he blamed himself for the trouble Lilian had found herself in. But to take the girls away from their new family, where they were so loved… that was far worse than his ill-judged liaison with her sister. Mary would be devastated if the girls were taken away. Everyone would be in a state of grief.
‘Bobby?’ Florrie murmured, her eyes fixed on the gravestone.
‘Yes, my love?’
‘What did Dad do to make Mr Scott want to hit him? I know it’s about Aunty Lil, and Georgia as well because she was named after him. And I know that, um, there’s something where ladies who are married aren’t allowed to have man friends who are sortof like their husbands, and kiss them and things. Like our Aunt Sadie used to have, where she had boyfriends and Uncle Jack never knew about it. But Dad says he didn’t do any of that with Aunty Lil. They just went to the pictures sometimes.’
Bobby wondered how she could explain. Florrie was growing into a young woman, but she wasn’t one yet and her view of the world was still very much that of a child. It would be hard to make her see how Lilian’s friendship with her father was different to Florrie’s innocent friendship with Louis Butcher, her favourite playmate from school.
‘It’s a little complicated,’ Bobby said. ‘Sometimes it’s about more than kisses.’
‘Like the thing people do to make babies. I know all about that,’ Florrie told her, sounding rather proud of the knowledge. ‘Aunty Lil told me about it.’ She pulled a face. ‘It sounds horrid.’
Bobby smiled. ‘No, I don’t mean that. I’m talking about feelings. Sometimes when men and women are friends, even without kisses and… and the thing they do to make babies, they have feelings which make them different to ordinary friends.’
‘You mean like love?’ Florrie said, with another disgusted grimace.
