And always she could feel the eyes of Ernie King on her. She knew she was being ungracious by ignoring him, but Bobby was feeling far too sickly to make polite conversation with jilted suitors.
‘I need to go outside for a moment,’ she said to the others.
Charlie frowned. ‘Are you all right?’
‘I’m all right. It’s just all this smoke.’
‘I’ll come with you then.’
‘No, you stay here. Have another drink. I’ll only be five minutes while I fill my lungs with some clean air.’
Bobby put on her coat and made her way outside. She sat down on a horse trough and gulped in mouthfuls of crisp winter air until the feeling she might be sick abated. There was a full moon that night, glinting off the water in the trough.
A clear night would mean another raid over Germany. It made Bobby think of what Charlie had said earlier. All those people on the ground who would be suffering. Women. Children. Women like her, their babies unborn inside them…
She shivered, and tried to push the thought away.
Bobby smelt Ernie before she saw him. Even with the heavy scent of pub smoke on him, she recognised the distinctive smell of the Canadian shaving soap he used.
‘Hey, Slacks.’
As anxious as she’d been to avoid him, Bobby couldn’t help smiling. She’d missed Ernie’s teasing. He sounded gentler than usual but not exactly sad, and certainly not cross or bitter. That was something.
‘Ernie,’ she said. ‘I, um, didn’t notice you in there.’
He grinned. ‘Yeah, like hell.’ He leaned against the trough. ‘Avoiding me, kid?’
‘OK, yes,’ she said, deciding to meet frankness with frankness. ‘I’ve had a bugger of a day, pardon my language. I could have done without one more awkward conversation.’
‘All right, Bobby, no need to get all mushy on me. I missed you too, OK?’
She smiled. It was better if he was joking.
‘I did miss you actually. Life wasn’t the same without you to mock me for my clothing choices. Where’s Chip tonight?’ She had noted the absence of Ernie’s other billet mate when she had spotted him drinking with Sandy.
Ernie was looking up at the stars, his eyes moving over the constellations as if he was counting each pinprick of light.
‘Gone.’
Before she had served in the Air Force, Bobby might have assumed his friend had been posted back to Canada. Not now, though.
‘Oh Ernie, I am sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I know you two were close.’
He shrugged. ‘Just one in a long line of pals I’ve lost in this thing. Still, I miss him. Good man.’
There was a moment’s sombre silence.
‘So, um, did you know I’d left the WAAF?’ Bobby asked.
‘Not when I came back. Her Ladyship was good enough to fill me in on the changes round here when she roped me in to the latest Topsy Nowak production.’ Ernie lit a cigarette. ‘Shame. The uniform looked good on you.’
‘I thought you didn’t approve of women in uniform.’
‘No, but I’ve always approved of Bobby Bancroft in a skirt.’
Bobby closed her eyes. One of them was going to have to tackle the subject that was hovering unspoken between them, and if he wasn’t going to do it, she supposed it would have to be her.
‘Ernie, I’m sorry,’ she said quietly.
