She couldn’t help feeling a little guilty too, knowing she wasn’t being entirely frank with her husband. Whenever Charlie bemoaned their lot, Bobby delivered a stern reminder that they ought to count their blessings. She never confided to him her own occasional feelings of dissatisfaction in the life they now shared.
Or, not dissatisfaction exactly, Bobby hastily corrected herself. She had never felt happier or more loved than she had since she and Charlie had moved into their little home. This was more a sort of… yearning.
She knew it was foolish. She was grateful, so grateful, to be back home in Silverdale with her husband. She relished being close to the people she loved – her sister, her father, her sister-in-law Mary, and Florence and Jessica Parry, the little Londoners she had grown close to when they had been evacuated here. Every day Bobby looked up to the fells and said a quiet prayer of thanks that Charlie had made it back from a war which had taken so many. With the baby that had seemed an impossible dream on the way, they had everything they could have hoped for.
Even Bobby’s much-loved job onThe Tykemagazine had been restored to her. Yes, Charlie’s injuries would make a difference to their lives, but nothing was insurmountable. Nor was there anything Bobby regretted about the course her life had taken.
Yet still there was that hungry feeling, as of something promised yet never fulfilled. She had been about to do important work in the WAAF – had dreamed of a codes and ciphers commission, an overseas posting, really making a difference. She didn’t regret the path she had taken, but there was still curiosity, even longing, about the one she had failed to take.
Bobby wondered if she was destined never to be completely happy with her lot. To long always for fresh challenges, and stimulation for her busy brain. What would her little world look like when Marmaduke came along? It was so strange to think that before summer came again, she would – God willing – be a mother.
Silverdale had an eerie appearance when Bobby stepped off her doorstep. St Peter’s churchyard was opposite, and the silhouettes of the stubby gravestones made her shiver. One memorial topped by a stone angel had nearly frightened her witless the day she had gone back to work, rising out of the darkness like an avenging spirit.
Her heart almost stopped again when she saw one of the squatting silhouettes rise and take on human shape, but Bobby was soon laughing at herself when she recognised what a familiar shape that was. It belonged to her sister, Lilian Scott.
‘Honestly, Lil, you frightened me to death,’ Bobby said when she had joined her twin. ‘I thought you were the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come.’
Lilian laughed. ‘I doubt you need an old sinner like me to show you the error of your ways.’
‘How long have you been here?’
‘Half an hour.’
‘You should’ve knocked. You could have warmed up inside while I got ready.’
‘I didn’t like to wake your Charlie.’
‘He’s scouring the paper for jobs already. I don’t think either of us will be able to break the habit of early rising now we’ve been in the services.’ Bobby glanced at her sister, who looked washed out, as she so often did these days. ‘What brings you out so early?’
‘I couldn’t sleep.’ Lilian gestured to the gravestone she had been kneeling beside. ‘Annie was sleeping soundly so I thought I’d come and have a little talk with her sister.’
Bobby looked down at Georgia Scott’s gravestone. As always, it was scrubbed clean and adorned with fresh greenery – even in winter, there was always something living to give colour to the stone. Lilian took exceptionally good care of the plot where her baby slept.
‘What have you been talking to her about?’ Bobby asked, slipping an arm through her sister’s as they set off walking.
‘Oh, just foolishness.’
‘You can always tell me your foolishnesses.’
‘Honestly, it’s nothing.’ Lilian laughed. ‘It was mostly moaning about not being able to get any tinned pilchards onpoints and the quality of the National Loaf. Dad and Tony’s eyes glaze over whenever I vent about housewife business, and I’m not sure Annie’s don’t as well. But Georgia’s always happy to listen.’
‘You come down here too much, Lil,’ Bobby said softly. ‘You’re still recovering from the birth. You shouldn’t be squatting in cold, damp churchyards.’
‘You sound like George Parry.’
Bobby frowned. ‘The captain?’
‘Yes, he gave me some advice too in his quiet, serious way.’ Lilian smiled. ‘“Grief is a necessary thing but don’t neglect the people alive who love you, Lilian.” That’s what he said to me.’
‘That was bold of him. Still, he’s right.’
‘I have to come.’ Lilian swallowed. ‘I… think about her, when I’m in bed. Think about how lonely she must be, alone in the dark.’
‘And about how lonely you are, alone in the dark,’ Bobby said quietly. ‘Can’t you talk to Tony? He’s grieving for her too.’
‘I know, but it isn’t the same for him, is it? I’m her mother, Bobby.’
‘Have you tried talking to him?’
