‘She’d be better for summat to take her mind off it, I reckon,’ Reg said. ‘She’ll only sit brooding if we let her stay here.’
‘She can help me in the kitchen. Once she’s baking bread she’ll cheer up a mite. She loves kneading the dough.’
‘You know that as soon as you say she can stay off, you’ll have her sister suddenly in paroxysms of grief and demanding equal treatment. Then we’ve to explain to their father that we let them miss a day’s learning on account of a ruddy hen.’
Mary looked solemn. ‘Oh. Yes. I suppose we would have to let the captain know.’
‘Well, it’s up to you. But Jessie would be better off laiking with her schoolmates than thinking on at home is my opinion.’ Reg gave his wife’s arm a fond squeeze and hobbled towards the parlour. ‘I’ll be at my desk if anyone wants me.’
‘I keep forgetting it’s not for us to make decisions about their schooling,’ Mary said to Bobby when Reg had gone, her tone rather chastened. ‘We’re not their mam and dad. Reg is right to remind me.’
‘Jessie isn’t only upset on Hetty’s account, is she?’ Bobby said quietly.
‘I don’t think so, although she don’t say much. I’m sure she’s still brooding over the changes that have to happen when her dad gets home.’ Mary sighed. ‘She’s not the only one. I try to put a bright face on for the girls, but Jess is a clever little thing and senses what I’m really feeling, I’m sure.’
Bobby came to slip an arm around her. ‘Do you want me to talk to her?’
Mary smiled gratefully. ‘Would you, love? I feel on the edge of a crying fit half the time myself since we learned they were to leave us, and I’m sure I’m as likely to make things worse as better.’
‘I’ll go now and see if I can get her to come down for some food.’ Bobby planted a kiss on her cheek. ‘I’m sorry, Mary. I know what you must be feeling. I hope everything works out.’
‘Aye, pet, me too. Me too.’
Bobby climbed the stairs to the attic. She could hear Jessie’s soft sobs drifting down as she mounted the second flight. She found the little girl sitting on the bed, being comforted by her sister. Ace lay on the blankets behind them, looking almost as miserable as Jessie about the loss of their charge.
‘Don’t cry, Jess,’ Florrie was saying as she patted her sister’s head. ‘I know it’s really sad about Hetty, but now she’ll be in heaven with Ma, won’t she? I bet that’s loads better than living in a cold old henhouse. There’s probably all her favourite things to eat, sherbet lemons and stuff, and no stupid war on that says she can’t have them.’
She paused, watching her sister hopefully, but Jessie just snuffled into her shoulder.
‘And soon Dad’ll be home,’ Florrie continued, not to be deterred in her mission to cheer her sister up. ‘I bet then we’ll never be sad again. It’ll be just like before the war when we were all so happy.’ She turned a look of appeal on the grown-up arrival. ‘Won’t it, Bobby?’
‘I’m sure it will,’ Bobby said, smiling.
This time there was a definite effect. Jessie’s sobs redoubled, and she struggled to catch her breath. Florrie gave her a puzzled look.
‘You are excited about Dad coming home, aren’t you, Jess?’ Florrie asked.
Jessie was unable to speak through her gasps, which spared her the necessity of answering.
‘Florrie, why don’t you go get your breakfast?’ Bobby said. ‘It’ll be school soon. I’ll look after Jessie.’
‘All right, but she’s really sad,’ Florrie said solemnly as she stood up. ‘She ain’t stopped crying since Mary told her about Hetty.’
‘That’s all right. Go on, downstairs you go.’
The little girl ran off down the steps, her irrepressible lightness of heart buoying her up as ever. Ace jumped off the bed to follow, not so troubled by grief as to lose his appetite, or his optimism that a share of his mistress’s breakfast might be coming his way. Meanwhile, Bobby sat down next to the more serious younger child and gathered her up in her arms.
Jessie snuggled against her, sobbing as if her heart might break. Bobby didn’t say anything. She just held her until she felt the little body cease to tremble, and the shuddering sobs slowed to a gentle weeping.
‘I am sorry about Hetty, sweetheart,’ Bobby said softly. ‘I know how much you loved her.’
‘Fank ’oo,’ came a muffled voice from her chest.
‘We’ll have a funeral for her, shall we, and bury her near the henhouse where her friends are?’
‘OK,’ Jessie mumbled.
‘The other hens will miss her a lot. You’ll have to give them extra attention while they’re sad and sing them some of your jolly songs. Do you know that I can always tell by how my egg tastes when you’ve been singing to them?’
