But what worried her most was the lack of movement there. Whenever Tony was engrossed in something, Bobby slipped one hand under her coat so she could run it across her stomach, desperate for some little twitch that would set her mind at rest.
Always Marmaduke woke her, for five weeks now. She had never known him be still for this long. Now she thought about it, she couldn’t remember him moving since yesterday morning, when Charlie had rested his head against her stomach and the baby had seemed to still in response. At the time, Bobby had believed he must be comforted by the proximity of his father. But… could there be something wrong?
She found it impossible to focus on her work. The article she was attempting to write swam before her eyes. She was conscious only of her stomach, still and quiet – as if there was no baby growing there at all. Her mind kept returning to onehorrible image: Georgia Scott on the night she had been born, lying under a shroud at the foot of her mother’s bed.
Bobby’s appointment with Dr Minchin wasn’t until two, but by eleven she was in such a state that she felt she couldn’t stay in the office another moment. She was shaking, unable to type, and it had become a real effort to conceal how she was feeling from Tony. She simply had to see the doctor right away. Oh God, she wished Charlie was here!
What if he came home to discover the baby they had invested so much in, their little miracle of life, was… Bobby swallowed. She couldn’t bring herself to think the word.
It couldn’t end this way. Not after all Charlie’s struggles with impotence, which had made a family seem impossible. Not after his miraculous return from that final op, just one day after his baby had been conceived, so that his very survival felt fated. It felt like everything had been leading up to this, to Marmaduke, the child who was to make their world complete. And now…
If anything had happened to him, would it be her fault? Charlie had warned her again and again about working during her pregnancy, but like a fool Bobby had pushed to remain atThe Tyke. Not because of the money but because she wanted to be there – had cared more about the work she loved than keeping her baby healthy. If it was her fault, Charlie would never forgive her. She wouldn’t deserve to be forgiven.
‘Tony, I’ve got to go,’ Bobby said, well aware that her voice, like her hands, was trembling. ‘Can you lock up?’
‘Go? You’ve only been here an hour.’ Tony peered at her. ‘You’re white as owt, Bob. You’re shaking. What’s up, love?’
‘I… I feel a bit fluey, that’s all. I think I spoke too soon when I said I wasn’t coming down with anything. I need to go home and rest.’
Even Tony looked concerned now.
‘You’d best not walk home by yourself,’ he said. ‘I’ll come with you.’
‘There’s no need for you to lose an hour’s work. I need fresh air, that’s all.’ Bobby hurried to the door, hoping he wouldn’t press the point. She felt like she might faint, and clung to the doorframe. ‘Don’t tell our Lil I left early, will you? I don’t want her to worry.’
‘Sure? You’d better have her or Mary sit with you if you’re not feeling right.’
‘I told you, I just need rest.’
Bobby hurried out before Tony pressed more questions on her. She had to get to the doctor’s surgery in Smeltham, and pray Dr Minchin could fix whatever was wrong.
It was over two miles to the neighbouring village, however, and Bobby felt very dizzy indeed now she was on her feet. She wasn’t sure how she was going to make it. There were no buses, and no one with a vehicle she could beg for a lift. But she had to get there.
Bobby was very wobbly as she staggered along the road to Smeltham. Her hands shook as badly as Charlie’s. She had barely gone a mile when the sick, dizzy feeling overwhelmed her and she was forced to stop to vomit.
She fell to her knees as she retched, but nothing came up after a day without food: just bitter-tasting bile. When the fit was over she remained kneeling, slicked with sweat and with no energy to move. Her throat felt swollen and sore from tears she was too weary to shed. She just slumped against a tree, overcome by numb despair.
Marmaduke was dead. She knew he was. He was dead, because she hadn’t listened to Charlie when he had insisted she stop working. She had as good as murdered him. Her little miracle. Her baby.
Everything was over now. Their beautiful dream had ended. She must have been the biggest fool alive to put her faith in miracles. If there was such a thing, there wouldn’t be a war killing young men in droves every single day.
Bobby’s body shuddered with grief. She felt as weak as a newborn kitten, with no strength to move from this spot. She would die here, she was sure: at the side of this lonely road, leaning against the bare, skeletal tree that was her only means of support.
There was a rumble in the distance, as of a truck. It would be military, Bobby guessed. Since the abolition of the basic civilian petrol ration, there were few vehicles on the road that didn’t belong to the armed forces. She pulled in her knees to allow it to go by.
The vehicle that appeared was indeed military: a Tilly truck with Air Force roundels. Bobby waited for it to go past, but it didn’t. Instead it slowed to a stop, and a familiar face appeared out of the window.
‘Slacks. Funny place to stop for a picnic.’
It was Ernie King, of course, grinning as ever. His grin faded when he noticed the state of her, however.
‘What the devil is wrong?’ He jumped out immediately and turned to the driver. ‘Give me two minutes, Cloutier.’
Despite her distress, Bobby smiled with relief. The arrival of someone strong, someone she knew cared for her, was very welcome. Ernie was here – solid, frank and reassuring – and she no longer had to deal with this thing alone.
‘Sorry,’ she whispered as he bent over her, concern written all over his face. ‘I was walking to Smeltham and I… had a funny turn. I’ll be all right in a minute.’
‘The hell you will. You look like death, kid.’ He sat down and stretched an arm around her, which she sank into gratefully. ‘Tell me what you need.’
