‘And how do you feel now?’
Bobby paused to take stock of herself. Certainly the sickly feeling had disappeared, and her hands, when she held them up, were no longer shaking so violently. She could feel a headache beginning, but there wasn’t the tight sensation that had left her feeling she might lose consciousness.
‘I feel… all right,’ she said. ‘My head’s throbbing, but I don’t feel faint or sick like before.’
‘I thought as much. Anxiety, that’s all. In its worst form, it can feel as bad as the flu.’
‘Like Charlie,’ Bobby murmured.
‘Yes. His attacks are not dissimilar to what you experienced today.’ The doctor stood up. ‘Now go home, have something nutritious to eat and get some rest. No more missing meals, or you and I will be having words. By tomorrow morning, I’m certain both you and Marmaduke will be as right as rain.’
Bobby thanked Gertrude Minchin profusely when the doctor’s wife dropped her off at Church View. She noticed a few curtains twitching along the row of houses. No doubt the neighbours hadrecognised the doctor’s car and would be whispering about what that Mrs Atherton at Number 4 was doing clambering out of it, but they would know soon enough.
After today, Bobby accepted that she couldn’t continue doing her job. Her pregnancy would have to be made public before gossip spread. That ought to answer the question of why the doctor’s wife was driving her around. Thank goodness she had dissuaded Ernie from bringing her home though. That could have given rise to some very awkward rumours.
There was a letter for Charlie on the mat, as well as a couple from Bobby’s correspondents in the forces: one from Don Sykes, down south with the Pioneer Corps, and another from John Ellis, a Wykeness friend. Nothing from Jake again. Her head throbbing, Bobby threw them on to the coffee table unopened.
Poor Charlie, she thought as she examined her wan face and hollow eyes in the mirror. It had been a long journey for him, and a solemn task he’d had to perform. No doubt he was looking forward to coming home to a neat, jolly wife, not this spectre. There wasn’t enough rouge in the world to give her the appearance of health after the day she’d had.
And how she had felt today was how Charlie felt much of the time. Bobby had witnessed several of what the doctor called his anxiety attacks. She had pitied him with her whole heart, but she hadn’t fully understood how he must feel. Now she knew. That sensation of losing control, of lifeforce being sapped, of utter helplessness and a fear that could never be quelled – how could he bear it?
Bobby tried to do as Dr Minchin had advised, although it was difficult to force a meal down. The sick feeling had gone, but she was still in a highly nervous state and it had killed her appetite. She was eating for Marmaduke too, though, she reminded herself. He hadn’t had any sustenance since her supper of breadand dripping the evening before. The doctor was right: she needed to take better care of them both.
With an effort, Bobby managed a bowl of soup and a slice of bread. Then she went into the bedroom to rest as the doctor had said. The mattress was still covered in ink, but she had no energy to deal with that. She only barely had energy to remove her clothes. Once she was in her nightie, she lay on the stained, sheetless mattress and threw one blue-mottled cover over her.
Still she worried about Marmaduke’s lack of movement. The doctor said his heartbeat was strong and healthy, but then why didn’t he move? He couldn’t be sleeping all the while, surely.
For an hour Bobby lay with her nightdress hitched up and one hand on her belly, alert to any movement, but there was nothing. Eventually, she fell into a restless sleep.
Bobby awoke to the sound of the front door being unlocked.
Charlie was home! How long had she slept? She pulled her nightie over her belly.
It was completely dark now. She must have been asleep for hours, although she didn’t feel rested. She had so wanted to make herself neat for Charlie, take some of the pallor from her cheeks and prepare his special tea. Now she would have to meet him in her nightdress, looking like the ghost of Old Mother Riley.
‘Bob?’ she heard him call. He sounded weary, as she would expect. Bobby went out to him.
‘In bed already?’ he said with a wan smile, sliding his stick into the umbrella stand. ‘You might have waited for me.’ He frowned when he took in her appearance. ‘But something’s wrong. What is it, darling?’
Bobby couldn’t help herself. She threw herself into his arms and burst into tears.
‘Bobby, what is it?’ he asked in alarm. ‘Is it the baby?’
‘No… no,’ Bobby gasped through her tears. It felt like the crying fit she’d been holding back had finally broken through the floodgates, and now there was no keeping it in. ‘I’ve just been… so frightened. I’m sorry, Charlie. I didn’t mean to scare you.’
‘Go and lie down. You look awful. I’ll join you in a minute.’
‘Yes. All right.’
Bobby did as he said. She felt guilty that the house was so dark and cheerless, but what she mainly felt was relieved, because Charlie was here and nothing bad could happen when Charlie was here. Yet still she couldn’t stop crying.
She pulled the covers over her and hugged her knees. Charlie joined her a moment later, now divested of his coat, hat and shoes.
‘Now tell me all about it,’ he said, gathering her in his arms. He didn’t seem to notice all the ink, his attention was so wrapped up in her.
‘Charlie, I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘I was going to have everything nice for you. I had a whole plan.’ She sniffed. ‘There’s salmon and… and beer. I ought to have had it ready.’
‘Never mind that. It’s you I care about, not salmon. Tell me what happened.’
