‘Reg, I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you,’ she said. ‘I felt terrible about it, but…’
‘But you wanted to keep working.’ He shook his head, scowling. ‘Bloody stupid of you, five month in.’
‘You’re angry,’ she murmured. ‘But what could I do, Reg? I knew you’d never keep me on if you knew. Charlie was out of work, and we needed the money.’
‘I’d have given you the damn money, lass. You think I’d leave my own brother scrambling for pennies with a bairn on the way?’
‘I didn’t want you to give it to us. I wanted to earn it.’
‘Striding over the fells in that condition,’ Reg muttered. ‘Suppose you’d lost the babby, eh? How d’you think I’d feel, knowing it was me who sent you out there?’
‘Honestly, you men act like we’re as fragile as eggshell once we’re expecting,’ Bobby said, her patience fraying. ‘Dr Minchin told me it wasn’t dangerous to keep working, as long as I didn’t over-exert myself.’
‘Aye, well, it’s not only that.’ Reg pushed his fingers into his thinning hair. ‘I never should’ve taken you on again when you came back from war. You were supposed to be at home, looking after our Charlie. That’s why they let you out, isn’t it?’
‘Well, yes. But the best way for me to look after him while he was out of work was by earning money. Charlie would hate being forced to take charity from you and Mary.’
‘That’s summat, I suppose,’ Reg said, in a less harsh voice. ‘I remember when the boy wasn’t too proud to beg a loan so he could waste it on girls and horses. Good to know he’s finally grown up.’
‘He’s a different man these days,’ Bobby said quietly.
Reg sighed. ‘I knew it was only a matter of time, but Lord knows how I’ll manage without you. Not that I’d ever admit it to the missus, but I was starting to enjoy retirement. I’ll have to step back in now. Scott does all right but I wouldn’t trust him in an editor role.’
Bobby felt a sadness at this. She would miss being the deputy editor, plotting out each issue. She felt bad for Tony too, who would be counting on a promotion.
‘Will you take on a junior reporter?’ she asked.
‘Huh. Where from? I had trouble enough getting you pair, with war taking all the lads. Now it’s even come for the lasses, if I was minded to try that again after the trouble it caused last time.’
Bobby flashed him a smile. ‘Come on, Reg. I wasn’t so bad in the end, was I?’
He smiled back, unable to keep up his bad temper. ‘You’ve certainly been good for our Charlie. Can’t say I regret the way you turned things upside down around here, all told.’
‘You’re not so cross with me that you’ll go on grandad strike then?’
‘Grandad.’ He rubbed his cheek thoughtfully. ‘Aye, suppose I am in a way.’
‘That’s what Charlie and I were hoping you’d be. Like I told Mary, you two would always be Nana and Grandad to any children of ours.’
This seemed to shift the last of Reg’s grump. He looked pleased, and a little touched.
‘Well, look after yourself then,’ he said to Bobby, covering for his emotion with gruffness. ‘No more of this nonsense about working. Charlie told me he’d got that clerk’s position. No cause for you to be anywhere other than at home now he’s earning.’
‘He told you that?’
‘Aye. Shame he can’t get more with his fancy education, but better than sitting on his ar— on his backside at home.’
So Charlie had told Reg he was to be a clerk. Well, a clerk wasn’t a million miles from a secretary, Bobby supposed. If it helped the boy’s pride then she guessed it didn’t matter what he called himself.
‘And what about the magazine?’ she asked. ‘How will you manage?’
Reg shrugged. ‘Make up the difference with freelance pieces, same as before. Not the cheapest way of doing things but it’ll have to do till the war’s over.’
Bobby put a hand on his arm. ‘You won’t consider…’
‘What?’
‘You won’t consider keeping me on? Not as deputy editor but just part-time, working from home. If you only paid me a third of my salary, I know I could produce twice as much quality copy as any freelance.’
