Bobby laughed at the notion of five full-grown adults squeezing into the cow house’s two tiny bedrooms. Of course in a child’s view of the world, everything was simple – and naturally it revolved around them.
‘I don’t think Reg and Mary would be too pleased about being thrown out of their house to live in a cold barn,’ she said. ‘It would hurt Reg’s bad leg, you know, and make Mary’s rheumatism worse. I think they had better stay here.’
‘Oh.’ The girl’s face fell. ‘I didn’t think about that.’
‘But I wonder if the captain has thought about living somewhere nearby. I think he might be surprised at how many opportunities there are for work here, for a man with his skills.’ Bobby was talking half to herself now. ‘I’ve a mind to write to him. I know Mary would feel too awkward to do so, and perhaps I ought not to stick my nose in, but I’m sure he’d want to know how things stand for his daughters.’
Jess wiped her eyes and looked at her hopefully. ‘Would you really, Bobby?’
‘Hmm?’ Bobby collected herself. She had drifted into thinking out loud, or she wouldn’t have said so much. It didn’t do to get the child’s hopes up.
‘Will you write to Daddy?’ Jess asked, blinking up at her. ‘And ask him about if he wants to live with you and your dad in the cow house?’
Bobby smiled. ‘I won’t ask him that. I’m sure the last thing your father’s bad shoulder needs is a bed in our draughty old shippon. It never was meant to be a house, you know. But… well, would you like me to write to him and tell him how you’re feeling?’
‘Oh, yes!’ Jessie said, clapping her hands. ‘You can write it ever so much gooder than I could. Reg said he thinks you’re the bestest writer he ever worked with.’
Bobby pulled herself up straighter. ‘Did he really?’
‘Yeh, I heard him tell Mary,’ the girl went on happily. ‘And will you tell Daddy he’s not to take us back to London, but to let us live here with Mary and Reg forever?’
‘I can’t tell him anything, chicken. He has to make up his own mind and do what’s best for your family. Don’t forget he needs to find a job – that might be harder than it was before the war, with his injury. But if you’d like me to write on your behalf, I will.’ Bobby planted another kiss on the girl’s head. ‘Now will you come down to breakfast, and then we can finish getting you ready for school?’
Jessie jumped up, all smiles now. ‘Thank you, thank you, thank you! I know it’ll be all right ifyouwrite to him. And you won’t go to the war, will you, Bobby? Then if Uncle Charlie comes home, we can all be as happy as happy.’
‘I can’t promise that, my love. I have to be where I’m needed most. But I’ll do what I can.’
Jessie beamed. She threw herself impetuously at Bobby for a hug before running off downstairs.
Chapter 14
Where I’m needed most.The words whirled around Bobby’s head all that day.
She didn’t have an ARP shift that evening, and had been hoping to keep it free to give some thought to the predicament she was in. It wasn’t to be, however, as one of the village lads appeared at the door that afternoon with a note for her. Mary brought it into the parlour with a cuppa each for Bobby and Reg.
‘Looks like young Topsy’s writing,’ she observed. ‘Happen she’s got some wedding jobs for you, Bobby.’
Bobby unfolded the note.
‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘She wants me to go over this evening to help her and Mrs Hobbes with their sewing. Don’t knock, just come right in, she says. I never realised society weddings involved quite such a huge amount of sewing, did you?’
Mary raised an eyebrow. ‘More sewing? I’m sure I’ve sewn myself silly for that girl since she announced the engagement.’
‘I know, I was hemming tablecloths for hours in the ARP hut last week. I thought every last scrap of linen in the Dales had been used for our pantomime, but Topsy’s friends have been donating material and clothing coupons in swathes.’
‘Topsy Sumner-Walsh never could do things by halves,’ Mary said, smiling. ‘Will you go?’
‘I don’t suppose I can say no, since I was the matchmaker for the thing,’ Bobby said with a laugh. ‘I won’t stay late though. I’ve things to do at home.’
Reg, who had been contributing only the odd muttered ‘humph’ while this female nonsense ate into the working day, glanced up.
‘Filled that form in yet?’ he asked Bobby.
‘No. That was the other thing I needed to do tonight.’
‘Well, don’t leave it too long. You can’t depend on the post these days. Pop it in the box soon as you can.’
Mary said goodbye and left the room with her ever-present teapot. Bobby didn’t start work again immediately, however. She blew on her tea thoughtfully. For once it was a rich conker brown – made with real milk, not the evaporated stuff or powdered Household Milk, and brewed with fresh leaves.
