‘Field hospital, with the rest of my crew. Our Wimpey had a spot of trouble and I had to bring her down on the coast. You might say it was a bumpy landing.’ He nodded to the door as the bus started to slow. ‘This is us. Come on, kid, you can walk me home.’
Bobby noticed as she followed him off that her friend grimaced when he descended.
‘You’re hurting,’ she said as the bus pulled away. ‘What was injured, Ernie?’
‘Dislocated shoulder, arm broken in two places and a chunk of shrapnel got into my gut. The quacks fixed me up, but it’ll take me a while to heal fully, they tell me. Here, take a look.’
Bobby switched on her blackout torch as Ernie unfastened his greatcoat, fumbling one-handed with the buttons. He shrugged the coat off to reveal the sling that cradled his left arm, then unbuttoned part of his tunic so she could see the bandages wrapped thickly around his stomach.
‘Impressed?’ he asked, grinning.
Bobby smiled. ‘I’m not sure that’s quite the word I’d choose, but I’m glad to hear there’ll be no permanent damage.’
‘Put this on.’ He passed her the greatcoat. ‘No arguments. You might as well take it or I’ll be all night doing up the buttons one-handed.’
Bobby did as she was told, knowing it was useless to argue with Ernie King’s stubbornly chivalrous streak. She couldn’t help feeling a little guilty, though, as she fastened the heavy woollen coat. It had been not more than an hour ago that she’d been wrapped in Charlie’s RAF greatcoat, and in his arms. Ernie was only being a gentleman, but something about wrapping herself in a coat still warm from the heat of his body felt… intimate. As silly as she knew it was, it felt like a tiny betrayal.
‘You’re sure you can walk?’ she asked, putting aside the foolish feeling. ‘There’s a telephone in the pub. I could ring Topsy and ask if her car could make it over this ice.’
‘Don’t you dare. I’ll not be made an invalid of.’ He glanced at her. ‘Besides, when I’ve got a pretty girl to walk with in the blackout, a ride home is the last thing I want.’
‘Now don’t start,’ she said, laughing. ‘I’ve no patience with that sort of teasing. Save it for—’ She stopped.
‘For what?’
‘For Topsy, I was going to say.’ She was quiet a moment. ‘It’s so strange that she’s to be married in a few months. Of course I’m thrilled for her and Teddy, but…’ She sighed. ‘It does feel like everything’s changing.’
He frowned. ‘You OK, Slacks? You don’t sound yourself.’
‘I’m just feeling a little wistful tonight. Older than I ever have before.’ She summoned a smile. ‘Sorry. It’s been a funny couple of days.’
‘Here, give me your arm while we get across the street.’
He took hold of her elbow. Ice puddles glittered silver under the faint light of Bobby’s torch, while the stars that shone on the fells from a clear black sky made the frosty landscape twinkle. There was no moon that night, which she was grateful for. These days, a clear night and a full moon nearly always meant trouble for some poor town.
‘So how was your date?’ Ernie asked.
She blinked. ‘How did you know I had a date?’
‘Because you smell of cheap smokes and aftershave lotion. Your lipstick’s smudged, and so’s your mascara.’ He glanced sideways at her. ‘And you’ve got that look on your face.’
‘What look?’
‘Half sad, half besotted. Every time I saw you during your Christmas vacation, you were wearing it. Had a falling out with your dream boy, have you?’
She yelped as she slipped on a patch of ice, and Ernie grabbed her hand to stop her going over.
‘Here,’ he said, tucking it into the crook of his good arm. ‘Any more of that and we’ll both be going home with our arms in slings. So what was the bust-up about?’
‘There was no bust-up. Not exactly.’ She sighed. ‘Charlie can just seem so distant these days. Not all the time. But when he talks about the war and how he feels about it, it seems a worldaway from his life with me. I’m worried we’ll start to drift apart now he’s being posted.’
‘Sorry to hear that. Hope it works out.’ He turned to look at her. ‘I’m glad I saw you tonight. I’ve actually come back to say goodbye.’
She frowned. ‘You’re not going home to Canada?’
‘No such luck. I’ve been grounded for four months. Not safe to fly ops until I’m all healed, apparently. I’ve got a week’s leave, then they’re sending me to teach schoolgirls how to bake soufflés until I’m allowed back in my own cockpit.’
‘I’m sorry?’
