Jessie drew back, her wide, wet eyes looking up at Bobby. ‘Really truly?’
‘Really truly.’ Bobby took out a clean handkerchief and handed it to the child so she could blow her nose. ‘When you’ve been singing, they have these lovely rich golden yolks. It would be interesting, don’t you think, to make an experiment of it and see if different songs make for different types of eggs? You and I could keep an egg diary.’
Enthusiasm kindled in the girl’s eye. She had an enquiring mind and a love of all things scientific, as young as she was. The word ‘experiment’ was as good as milk chocolate to her. But her face quickly fell again.
‘But we won’t be able to do the experiment though, Bobby,’ she said in a funereal tone. ‘’Cause you’ll be going away to the war, just like Uncle Charlie. Mary said you would.’
Bobby wanted to smile, although she suppressed it for Jessie’s sake. It was nice to be reminded that the girls were fond of her. Of course it was Mary who really loomed large in their lives, standing in the stead of a mother to them, and ‘Uncle’ Charlie who was ever their favourite playmate. If they regarded Bobby in any sort of familial light, she supposed it was as a sort of big sister. But they did care for her, and would miss her if she had to go. It rather bucked her up to be reminded that she, too, occupied a little place in their hearts.
‘Well, it isn’t certain yet,’ she told the little girl. ‘The war people might decide I ought to stay and take care of my dad.’
‘You will though. The stupid war takes everyone away from us, same as it took our house. And then Daddy’ll make us go away to London, where we won’t have Ace or Boxer or Winnie or Barney or Henrietta or Harriet or Hannah or the cats or Reg or Mary or Mr Bancroft—’ she stopped to take a breath ‘—or you or Uncle Charlie or our friends at school, or the beck to play in when it’s hot or a garden to make snowmen or a hill to toboggan on or owt that’s good. An’… an’…’
The little girl burst into tears again, and Bobby held her until she was calmer.
‘Perhaps not,’ she said. ‘Your dad only said hemightgo back to London. If the idea upsets you, my love, then speak to him. Write him a letter – I can help you with your spellings if you don’t want to tell Florrie about it. I’m sure he’d want to know if the idea was distressing you.’
‘He might be cross though.’
Bobby frowned. ‘Was your father often cross with you for telling him how you felt when you lived together?’
‘Don’t know. Don’t remember,’ she mumbled, taking up the little rag doll Bobby had made for her at Christmastime so she could cradle it. ‘I was a baby then.’
Bobby smiled. ‘It wasn’t so long ago as all that, was it? You were five when he went to the Army.’
‘Five’s as good as a baby though,’ said the mature young lady of eight. ‘I don’t remember him being cross much, although I think he was sometimes sad. Maybe because he missed our ma after she died.’
‘Tell me what you do remember,’ Bobby said softly.
‘Only little bits, like when we’d all sit by the fire after our baths, and we’d have cocoa and he’d read stories out of this big old book. It had all the fairy tales you could ever think of, Bobby.’ Jessie’s eyes sparkled at the memory before her face fell again. ‘But it got burnt up when the bomb dropped on our house, like all our books and playthings.’
‘That sounds a happy memory though.’
Jessie rubbed her fists in her eyes. ‘I think so. I could remember more things, when an’ I was littler. But now I only remember that one thing, and some stuff from after Daddy went to the war when we lived with Aunt Sadie. We weren’t very happy then. Every night in my prayers I used to ask God to send Daddy back to live with us again. But then our house got ruined and we come to Moorside, and now I just want to stay here.’ She sobbed again. ‘With Mary and Reg and you.’
‘I know,’ Bobby said gently, planting a kiss on her ginger curls. ‘But your father loves you very much too, Jess. I think he’d be quite sad if he thought you didn’t want to live with him any more. You do forget some of your early memories when you’re a little person growing up, because your brain is still small and it has to push them out to make room for the new ones. But your dad will remember every happy time the three of you had together.’
‘Florrie remembers too, don’t she? She’s never stopped talking about Daddy coming home since he wrote.’
‘Well, there’s a lot of difference between a brain that’s only had eight years to grow and one that’s had a whole eleven.’
Jessie sniffed. ‘You really think Daddy would be sad if he knew I wanted to stay living here? I don’t want him to be sad.’
‘He’ll be sad because he loves you, and he’ll think that perhaps while he’s been away, his little girl has forgotten how to love him.’
‘I do. I do love him, really,’ Jess declared with more determination than fondness, looking guilty. ‘I just don’t remember very well, that’s all. Because of my brain got filled with new memories like you said.’ She rubbed at her nose with the hanky, scrunching up her eyes in a way that might be comical under other circumstances. ‘I wish Daddy could live somewhere near, like with you and Mr Bancroft, while I got used to him being here again. Or if we have to live with him, then maybe Reg and Mary could live with you in the cow house and we can live here with Daddy. Then Mary can come to make us our food and read us stories at bedtime.’
Bobby couldn’t help smiling at this efficient and ruthless redistribution of Reg’s property.
‘And where would your Uncle Charlie live when he came home from the war?’ she asked.
Jessie frowned, as if this point hadn’t occurred to her.
‘I guess he can live here with us and Daddy,’ she said after pondering a moment. ‘That’ll be best, because we’ll need him here for games anyway.’
‘Yes, but don’t forget that he and I are to be married soon. We had thought we might quite like to live together afterwards.’
‘Oh well, then that’s easy,’ Jess said, waving a magnanimous hand. ‘Uncle Charlie can stay with you and your dad and Reg and Mary. We won’t mind, as long as he still comes over to play withus. But then there won’t be much room, so all the dogs will have to stay with us. That’s OK though. We like having them here and we know how to look after ’em.’
