Don glanced at her. ‘The war going to put you out of a job too, is it?’
‘All I know is that Reg refused to guarantee he’d still have a place for me. He never liked the idea of keeping me on after marriage, and now this has happened, I wouldn’t be surprised if he decided replacing me was for my own good. Once the WAAF’s finished with me, he’ll expect me to settle down to being a housewife like a good little woman should.’
‘The WAAF? That’s where you’re going?’
‘Unless I get a postponement. I could try claiming hardship – you know, for my dad’s sake. I’ve got the form in my bag.’
‘Huh. I tried that as well. Said I had a new babby and a wife who weren’t as young as she used to be, and I was needed athome. No good, I’ve still got to go. You might have better luck, being a lass.’
‘The WAAF officer who interviewed me seemed to think they’d let me out of it if I applied,’ Bobby said. ‘She didn’t approve though. I felt two inches high the way she was looking down her nose at me.’
‘Better than peeling potatoes in the ATS, at any rate. Your young man’s RAF too, isn’t he? Maybe you can get a posting on the same base.’
‘Maybe, but that doesn’t help my dad.’
‘Hmm. Suppose not.’
They fell into a thoughtful silence as they walked. It was dark now, and Bobby took out her little torch to light their way. One thing about Bradford compared to the countryside was that there were at least streetlamps on the main roads, even if they were only the blackout-approved ‘starlighting’ type with their thin, sickly glow. It glinted wanly off the ice crystals in the gutters.
Bobby smiled when they entered the pub. That, at least, had remained the same. There was even a group of Home Guard men playing darts, as of old.
‘Home sweet home, eh?’ Don said, kicking the slush off his boots. ‘I’ll get the drinks. You can claim the table.’
Bobby sat down at what had once been their usual table while Don visited the bar for a pint and a half of mild. He shook his head as he put her half in front of her.
‘Never thought I’d see the day I was paying over a shilling a pint for beer that’s half water,’ he said. ‘This cost of living’s getting daft. God knows how I’m going to manage on a private’s salary with a family to support. I just hope they promote me quickly.’
‘I wonder when we’ll be able to do this again,’ Bobby said.
‘Not for a long while, I reckon.’
‘No.’ She sighed. ‘I suppose not.’
Don started stuffing his pipe. ‘Well then, what are they going to give you to do in the Air Force? Will you be flying Hurricanes or Spitfires?’
Bobby smiled. ‘Administration, the officer who interviewed me said. They seem to be desperate for shorthand typists. Well, that and euphonium players.’
‘Shorthand typing all the livelong day? You’ll be bored rigid, Bobby.’
‘I know, but if that’s what’s needed to free up men then I guess that’s what I have to do.’
‘Just remember you’re a writer. Don’t let that journalist’s nose of yours get permanently stuffed up.’
‘I’ll try.’ She stared into her beer. ‘It’s so strange, the way nowadays you can just be summoned to a whole new life. I haven’t been told a damn thing about what to expect. I don’t know where I’ll be sent, who I’ll be sharing quarters with, what I’m to wear or how my day will look. I know it’s the same for everyone, time of national emergency and so on, but… it makes me feel so helpless. Like a child who has all her decisions made for her with never a word of explanation.’
Don lit his pipe. ‘I know how you feel.’
Bobby inhaled the smoke from his pipe deeply, relishing the familiar, comforting smell. This seemed to tickle Don.
‘Going to start smoking one of your own, Aircraftwoman Bancroft?’ he asked, laughing.
‘It reminds me of theCourier, that’s all. I do miss it.’
‘That’s your fault, isn’t it? I’ve offered you a job every time I’ve seen you since you left. No good deciding you miss it now that it’s too late for me to offer you another.’
‘I don’t mean I miss the work.’ She glanced around the familiar old local. ‘Just… us. The way we all used to be. They were happy times when it was you, me, Tony and Jem.’
Don sighed. ‘That poor kid.’
