‘Well, I do,’ Bobby said, shifting the basket of proofs to her other arm. ‘I decide what goes in the magazine and take overall responsibility for each number.’
‘Quite. You have the skills you need to do this work. You are used to managing it. Why not manage it for yourself?’
Bobby frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’
Jolka stopped to stretch her back before she carried on walking.
‘When I was a young woman, before I met Piotr, I worked for an agency that produced illustrations for advertisements,’ she told Bobby. ‘There were several of us, all struggling artists who aspired to better things. Nearly all were men, and as men they were paid a third again what I and the one other woman artist earned. One day I said, “To hell with pictures of soap flakesand matchboxes for a handful ofzlotya week”, and I resigned. After that I said I would paint only what I wanted to paint for the people I wanted to paint for, and I would accept no less for my work than a male of the same skill. Times were lean at first, but eventually it brought me my independence, and even some wealth. By the time I met Piotr, I had no need to marry for the financial support of a husband. I was free to choose for love.’
Bobby thought about this.
‘You mean I could start my own magazine?’ she asked.
‘Why not? To create your own employment could bring you independence, as it did for me.’
‘You were young and single though,’ Bobby said. ‘It was brave of you, Jolka, but it wasn’t a risk everyone could afford to take. Not if they had people to support. And you had a skill rare enough that it could earn you a living.’
‘But you too have skills – skills that mean you do not need a man to tell you what to do or put money in your pocket. Tell yourself what to do. Put money in your own pocket. It is something women rarely consider.’
‘I couldn’t do what Reg did when he started his business. He didn’t have dependants to feed and care for as I will, or a home to keep. Besides, I wouldn’t want to start something in competition withThe Tyke.’ She sighed. ‘I wish I could do some of my work at home, though, just a few hours a week. But Reg is so stuffy about mothers working, I don’t know if he’d ever consider it.’
‘If you wish for it then find a way,’ Jolka said firmly. ‘You can write for other publications as well asThe Tyke, I suppose. Do not allow your own ambitions and desires to become lost because you have others to care for. It is not a sin to also care for yourself.’
Bobby pondered Jolka’s advice as she travelled into town.
Making her own employment was something to consider, certainly.The Tykehad a number of freelance writers it commissioned work from. Those writers produced pieces for other publications as well, Bobby imagined. Could she do the same?
The difficulty was in knowing where to begin. She had no idea how someone went about selling their writing services. It wasn’t like the BBC, presumably, sending in gags in the hope someone might want them. Periodicals commissioned their pieces well in advance. Was it a case of sending your portfolio to an editor and hoping they took a fancy to your work?
What Bobby did know was that the clock was now ticking for her job atThe Tyke. Jolka had guessed her secret, and while Bobby knew she could trust her friend’s discretion, if Jolka had noticed then it couldn’t be long before others began to do so. Reluctant though she was, she would have to speak to Reg about it soon.
Soon… but not just yet. She could put it off another week, perhaps, if she was careful. Maybe even two.
In Settle, Bobby dropped off her proofs then took the liberty of taking an early dinner hour so she could cash her postal order and buy the things she wanted for Charlie.
She was lucky enough to find a tin of salmon at the grocer’s – the last tin, much to her joy, which felt like fate’s seal of approval for her plan to treat her husband. She also found a tin of peaches and some evaporated milk to make up her custard, and a packet of Charlie’s favourite cigarettes. By the time she returned to Silverdale, she had a basket of goodies on her arm. All she needed now was a jug of beer from the Hart, then Charlie would have a veritable feast to return to.
One incident from her trip into town stood out. It had been when she emerged from the grocer’s to see George Parry, talkingearnestly with an elegant woman in a fur coat and feathered hat. Bobby had thought the woman must be Veronica Simpson – the glamorous fur and jaunty hat looked like her style – but on drawing closer, she realised that this woman had a pram. When the woman turned her head, Bobby saw that it wasn’t Miss Simpson but her sister.
Lilian had immediately waved her over to have a cuddle with Annie, who was full of giggles and sunshine that spring-like morning. The captain shook Bobby’s hand warmly, explaining that he had bumped into Lilian while doing some shopping.
Neither seemed furtive. They hadn’t been standing close, or touching in any way that hinted at intimacy. Nevertheless, Bobby felt unsettled at running into them alone together, with Lilian all dressed up and the captain talking in what had seemed such a significant manner. She felt even more unsettled at the sight of Lilian wearing that fur coat, which Bobby recognised as the one George had given her. Her sister had told her months ago that she was going to give the thing away, before Tony discovered it. Clearly the wrench had been too much, however.
But it was probably nothing. Why wouldn’t two friends who ran into one another stop to pass the time of day? They had looked earnest, yes, but the captain generally did look earnest. Bobby had worked herself up into a state of worry after her idea about Georgia’s name, she supposed, and now she was imagining things that weren’t there.
Anyhow, it had been good to see Lilian looking so bright and vibrant. Today she’d looked truly young and healthy, as she had before her babies had been born. Male heads had turned as they passed her. All the same, Bobby determined to call on her sister after work and ask what she had been discussing with the captain.
Chapter 16
When Bobby got back to her office-shed, she found Tony leaning back in his chair, smoking.
‘You took your time, didn’t you?’ he observed.
‘I took my dinner hour early to run some errands in town.’ Bobby’s eyes stung in the fug of smoke. ‘I hope you’ve done more this morning than make yourself cough, Tony.’
She sat down at her desk, unfastening her pixie hood but not removing her coat. After the encounter with Jolka, Bobby felt self-conscious about her bump. Tony was less astute than a woman was likely to be, but still, she ought to be cautious.
‘I’ve been working, don’t worry.’ Tony took out his cigarette. ‘Been hard at it, in fact.’
