Bobby shuffled around. ‘Let’s leave the washing-up and have an early night, shall we? We can take the wireless in and have a cuddle. It’s the wedding tomorrow, and I’ll be in no mood to celebrate it if I don’t get some rest.’
‘I’d like that.’ He let her go so he could start collecting up the tea things.
‘By the way, you’ll be pleased to know I wrote to the Air Ministry on the train home,’ he said as he did so. ‘I popped it in the box in Leeds.’
‘Oh.’ Bobby had been so preoccupied with other things, she had forgotten about the DFC. ‘And… you accepted?’
‘Said I would, didn’t I? Not that I needed to write – they presume acceptance for things like this. I felt like I wanted to though.’
‘I thought seeing your friend might have changed your mind.’
‘I have to put my duty as a father and husband first. I do feel guilty, but Hynesy would have understood.’
Bobby remembered the letter that had come for Charlie, which she had thrown on to the coffee table with the rest of the post. She went to retrieve it.
‘I forgot that this came for you,’ she said, holding it out. ‘It’s a Skipton postmark. It couldn’t be about that job at the bank, could it?’
‘If it is, it’ll be a rejection.’ Charlie put his tray of crockery down to open the letter.
He frowned while he read it, Bobby watching him anxiously.
‘Well?’ she asked. ‘Is it a rejection?’
‘It’s… no. Well, yes, but…’ He sounded bewildered. ‘Here, you read it.’
Bobby took it from him.
Dear Mr Atherton,
I would like to thank you for meeting with me concerning the role of junior clerk at Skipton Penny Bank. Unfortunately, it was felt your war injuries were such that it would not be possible for you to perform this role to the bank’s high standard. However, on a personal level, I was impressed by your neat appearance, education and head for figures. I would therefore like to ask you to consider another role.
My secretary, Miss Cummings, will be leaving the company when she marries next month, and I would take it as a favour if you would consider filling the vacancy. The role does not involve significant amounts of time on your feet, nor handling money. You would be responsible for typing, correspondence, office administration, taking dictation and keeping my appointment book. The bank would also invest in shorthand training for you.
The salary may be lower than you are used to but is nevertheless a generous wage for the work: £3 per week, plus an additional £10 per annum marriage allowance. You would also be entitled to an allowance of £10 perannum on the birth of your first child, with smaller allowances for subsequent children.
I would be grateful if you could write with your decision at your earliest convenience.
Yours sincerely,
Wm. Miller
Manager, Yorkshire Penny Bank
Bobby stared at the letter for a long time. Charlie had sunk into a chair.
‘A secretary,’ she said at last.
‘Women’s work,’ Charlie muttered. ‘Miller’s trying to do me a favour.’ He gave a hollow laugh. ‘I suppose he feels sorry for me. He knows a hopeless unemployable when he sees one.’
‘Three pounds a week,’ Bobby said, her eyes still fixed on the letter. ‘And an extra four bob a week marriage allowance, with another four when Marmaduke comes. He’s right, it is a good wage for the work. TheCourieronly paid me thirty bob as a typist.’
‘It’s a good wage for a single woman. For a married man, it’s insulting.’ Charlie rubbed his face. ‘Twenty-eight years old and the head of a family, and I’m expected to work for three quid a week.’
Bobby went to sit on the arm of his chair.
‘I know it’s not ideal, but it’s work, isn’t it?’ she said gently. ‘And while it might not be a great wage, it’s a quid more a week than I get on the magazine. We can make it stretch.’
‘But having to tell people I’m a secretary – a secretary, for God’s sake, and working for a woman’s wage!’ He laughed grimly. ‘I imagine Tony would crack a few jokes at my expense.’
