MrBancroft! Bobby looked again at the envelope. She hadn’t noticed that it bore her maiden name. Jake had been uppermost in her thoughts, and the lad often forgot to use his sisters’ married names when he wrote. Now she looked closely, however, Bobby could see that the envelope was addressed to Mr and not Miss R. Bancroft. That was the name she had used in writing to Broadcasting House…
Bobby turned her attention to the letter, which was on BBC-letterheaded paper. It was succinct, no more than a few lines, but the emotions they produced were enough to wake Marmaduke up and set her stomach fluttering.
Dear Mr Bancroft,
Mr Handley has asked me to convey his sincerest thanks for the sketch you were kind enough to send in. While hewill not be able to use it in its entirety, there are a couple of gags he can make use of in a future episode ofIt’s That Man Againand he has asked that I enclose a ten-shilling postal order in exchange for the copyright. Five shillings a joke is our standard fee. If you have more material of the same quality, Mr Handley would be glad to consider it.
Yours sincerely,
M. Shepherd (Mrs)
Secretary, Mr Thomas Handley
Under this, a postscript gave the two lines Tommy Handley wished to purchase. It felt very strange, seeing her words typed there on official BBC paper.
Bobby stared at the letter for a long time. Eventually she retrieved the postal order from the floor, and stared at that for a long time too.
Ten shillings wasn’t much in the grand scheme of things, but to Bobby it felt like she’d won the pools. It was nearly a quarter of what she earned on the magazine each week. And all for two little lines that she had scribbled down in about ten minutes!
What should she do? She would have to write to Scarlet. Her friend would be thrilled for her. Or perhaps she ought to write to Archie first, who had given her the idea and advised her to use a male pseudonym. She had paired the male version of her Christian name with her maiden surname, knowing that anything addressed to Mr Atherton would be opened by Charlie. Oh, she felt so flustered that she didn’t know who to tell first!
What was Charlie going to say? Bobby hadn’t breathed a word to him about her secret plan. She had been certain she would get a rejection, and to be honest had felt rather foolish about the business. It had only been the encouragement of Scarlet and Archie that had persuaded her she could write anything good enough for the BBC. Wouldn’t her husband be proud?
It would be a lifeline for her too, when she was forced to leaveThe Tyke. Not only because of the money but because it would give her something to stimulate her brain – something she could surely fit into her new life as a housewife and mother. Marmaduke could sense her exhilaration and was practically dancing a hornpipe inside her.
After a moment’s calmer thought, Bobby decided against sharing the news with Charlie right away. She knew he struggled with feelings of failure while he wasn’t providing for his family. No doubt he would be proud of her achievement, but it might gall him, too, to know Bobby had felt the need to find other ways to support them. If his interview today had gone badly, she might be rubbing salt in a wound already tender.
Would it not be better to squirrel away any little earnings she could get from this, to surprise her husband with when the time was right? Bobby couldn’t guarantee it would be a significant amount, or that she would ever write a joke worthy of the five-bob fee again, but if she did, she could keep it hidden away in her own secret pot. When Charlie had a job again, they could celebrate the achievement with everything resting in its proper place.
Bobby couldn’t deny, too, that she rather relished the idea of the smug little smile she would conceal behind her handkerchief if one of her jokes came over the air when she and Charlie listened to the Forces Programme. That would be a thrill, hearing her words spoken by Funf or Mrs Mopp or one of the other famousITMAcharacters.
She heard Charlie’s key in the lock, and hastily stuffed both letter and postal order into her pocket.
Chapter 14
Bobby could see at once that things hadn’t gone well at the bank. Charlie’s face was grey and strained as he hung up his hat and coat.
He didn’t have his walking stick, Bobby noticed. It was still in the umbrella stand. Surely he hadn’t gone all the way to Skipton without it? Charlie could walk unsupported over increasingly longer distances as his injured leg grew stronger, but it still hurt him to put weight on it for extended periods.
She went to put her arms around him. He hid his face on her shoulder, and Bobby felt his body convulse.
‘Darling, what happened?’ she asked softly. ‘Why didn’t you take your stick?’
‘I didn’t want them to see,’ he whispered. ‘Thought if I could hide how broken I was, I might have a sliver of a damned chance.’ He laughed. ‘What an ass.’
‘Come and sit down.’
Bobby led him to his chair by the hearth, cursing herself for lingering at Georgia’s gravestone instead of hurrying home to get the fire lit. After Charlie’s difficult day, all she could offer him as comfort was a cold, dismal house. Some wife she was.
‘Let me make you a cup of tea, then I’ll light the fire and get some soup on,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry there’s nothing ready for your dinner. I got held up at the Parrys’ place.’
‘No. Don’t go.’ Charlie caught her hand. ‘I’m not hungry. I just want to feel you, that’s all.’
Since this was what Bobby wanted as well, she didn’t object when he guided her to his knee. She held him, burying her lips in his hair.
‘Do you want to tell me about it?’ she asked gently.
He flinched. ‘I’ll try.’
