‘Of course it is. You and Reg would always be Nana and Grandad to any bairns of ours. I mean, when the time comes.’
‘Aye,’ Mary said, smiling. ‘When the time comes.’
Chapter 13
In spite of Mary’s misgivings, Bobby rather warmed to Veronica Simpson. She was forced to confess that she too had felt Miss Simpson, with her flashy clothes and platinum-blonde hair, was unlikely to make a good mother figure to the girls. Bobby had had a stern word with herself, however, reminding herself that George Parry was hardly the sort to make a fool of himself over a pretty face. So she had withheld judgement until she could form a closer acquaintance.
Bobby had quickly reached the conclusion that what might appear as pridefulness was really simple shyness, somewhat disguised by Miss Simpson’s film-star looks. The young lady shook hands politely with her suitor’s extended family, made softly spoken enquiries about their work, homes and health, and generally came across as a quiet, ladylike person rather than the gadabout Mary had feared from the passing resemblance to Charlie’s mother Violet.
What did worry Bobby, though, was Miss Simpson’s interactions with the children. She spoke stiffly to them, interviewing them about their schoolwork and other dry topics. She didn’t ask what games they liked, what books and comics were their favourites or what they enjoyed at the pictures. When Jess had attempted to introduce their sheepdog Ace, Miss Simpson had drawn her skirts about her and explained that she’d had a horror of dogs since childhood.
Miss Simpson was very young – little more than twenty-two, Bobby would guess. This made her closer in age to Florrie than Captain Parry, who must be a good fifteen years her senior. And yet, a lack of experience with children couldn’t completely explain the stiffness of her manners with them. She didn’t seemto dislike the girls, but nor did she relish their company. It was their father who interested her, and his children were merely something to be borne so she could continue to keep company with him. Bobby couldn’t tell if the captain was disappointed in the meeting, but he would be justified in feeling so.
Florrie and Jessie had been polite, but Bobby could see the looks that passed between them. The opinion they had formed, their looks said, was that while this wasn’t the wicked stepmother of fairy tale, it was a decidedly dull stepmother and that was just as bad. If Miss Simpson was just going to grill them about school and give dirty looks to their dog, why had she wanted to meet them at all?
Perhaps Miss Simpson’s stiffness would wear off when she got to know the children better. Bobby hoped so, since the captain seemed besotted with the woman. His expression rarely betrayed his feelings, but he spent a lot of his time gazing at his girlfriend as if amazed this beautiful young person could really belong to him. If Veronica’s relationship with the girls remained frosty, would it be too late for their father to extricate himself? Was he already so deeply in love that Miss Simpson was as good as Mrs Parry?
Still, it wasn’t Bobby’s business. All she could do was be there for the girls, and hope everything worked out for the best.
She was keen to get home and prepare dinner before Charlie arrived back from Skipton. Bobby was dying to know how his interview at the bank had gone. He might be nearly home by now. Despite her eagerness to get back, however, something drew her into the churchyard.
Bobby had to agree with Tony that visiting Georgia’s grave so often was doing her sister more harm than good. She knew cleaning and decorating the stone brought Lil relief of a kind, but it was a patchwork sort of help – something that covered over the problem rather than fixing it at the root.
Physically it wasn’t good for Lilian, who was still building her strength, to be lingering outdoors. Bobby felt sure it was even less healthy from a mental point of view though. Lilian’s grief surely shouldn’t still carry such a sharp edge, nearly seven months after Georgia’s death. It detached her from her family instead of binding her to them, taking her away from her living child and the husband who, for all his faults, loved her deeply. It worried Bobby that something which ought to bring the couple closer – their shared grief over the baby they had lost – seemed to be pushing them further apart.
Georgia’s headstone was scrubbed clean as always, fresh greenery arranged with tender solicitude around it. It made Bobby sad to see how well-kept it was. That meant Lilian was still spending a significant amount of time here.
Her gaze drifted to the writing on the headstone.
Georgia Scott, born sleeping.
A tear slid down her cheek.
‘Your mam says you’re a wonderful counsellor, Georgie,’ she murmured. ‘So tell your Aunty Bobby what she ought to do. What does your mother need? How can I help her?’
But all was silence within Bobby’s brain. It seemed Georgia’s counsel was for Lil and Lil alone.
Bobby glanced at the name on the grave again. Georgia. She had never given much thought to it before, but why that name?
Annie had been named Antonia for her father, of course. Bobby had always assumed Georgia had been named for her and Lil’s maternal grandfather, George Goggin. They had never been particularly close to Grandad Goggin, who had died when they were small, but he was the only George in the family.
But now Bobby thought of Captain Parry. It had been he who found Lilian the night she had gone into labour and fetched thedoctor to her. Lil often said he had saved her life, and their friendship seemed to have sprung from the bond they formed that night. Could it bethatGeorge who was the namesake of Lilian’s lost child?
The thought unsettled Bobby. It wasn’t unnatural that her sister would want to name her child in honour of the man she credited with saving her life, but she knew Tony wouldn’t like it. And… Bobby didn’t know why, but something about it didn’t sit right with her either. While it was clear Captain Parry’s heart was now in the possession of the fragrant Miss Simpson, Bobby did worry about her sister becoming too fond of the man. She was a married woman, after all. If Lil’s feelings developed beyond those of a disinterested friend, it could only lead to heartbreak.
The captain was a handsome man, with polished, gentlemanly manners. A man to admire. A war hero. Whereas Tony was just… well, Tony. It would be difficult to place the two men side by side and not have Tony Scott lose in the comparison. In her loneliness and alienation from her husband, could Lil’s head have been turned by her good-looking friend?
Bobby sighed as she turned from the grave. Suddenly she wanted to be with Charlie, and feel his arms around her. She wanted to spend the afternoon in bed with him, his warm body against hers. She needed that.
Poor Lil though. If she could only have with Tony what Bobby had with Charlie, perhaps she could move on from her grief. Yet Lilian remained emotionally detached from the man she had been forced by circumstances to tie herself to.
At home, Bobby picked up a couple of letters from the mat. One was addressed to Charlie, but it didn’t look to be anything official, although it carried the RAF censor’s stamp. She turned it over, and found the name and service number of a pal from his old squadron on the back – Pilot Officer Willis. The man was an occasional correspondent, and his letters usually cheered Charlie up. Bobby put it on the coffee table, glad he had something to make him smile after today’s interview.
The second letter was addressed to her. She wondered if it might be from Jake, her youngest brother, who hadn’t written since his Christmas card a month ago. However, the address was typewritten and there was no military stamp. Full of curiosity, Bobby tore it open. She blinked when a postal order fluttered to the floor.
There was a letter as well. She took it out and started to read.
Dear Mr Bancroft…
