Bobby waited, but Reg didn’t say anything else. It seemed as if, to all intents and purposes, the subject was now closed.
‘Um, Reg?’
‘What?’
‘Are you going to… If I asked Tony to send you a letter of application, would he be wasting his time?’
‘No need, is there? If you send that form off.’
‘And what if I don’t?’
He looked up sharply. ‘That’s what you’ve decided, is it?’
‘I haven’t fully decided anything, but I can’t help thinking about it. That I really ought to do my duty and go.’
‘Listen, Bobby, I already waved off a brother who for reasons best known to himself developed a sudden case of chronic patriotism.’ His brown eyes, like his brother’s in everything except their sternness, met hers. ‘You stay here, where you’re best off. If you want to serve the war effort, do it by giving folk summat to smile about on the pages of the magazine. As a writer you’re worth ten Tony Scotts.’
‘This isn’t about the magazine, Reg,’ Bobby said impatiently. ‘Don’t you get it? There are things happening out there – bigthings that are going to change the whole world, for a long time after they’re over. Things that matter more than you and me, and the damn magazine. Charlie understands that. Perhaps it’s time I started getting my priorities in the right order too.’
He blinked. ‘All right. What’s brought this on?’
She sighed. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to go off at you. Just… Charlie said some things when he had that bit of leave the other night. It got me thinking that I really didn’t have any right to make a claim for hardship. I’d hate him to resent me for trying to duck out of doing my bit while he’s up there with his hide on the line.’
Reg laughed. ‘What, because you didn’t give your all shorthand typing for the war effort? They’re hardly asking you to go to the front lines.’
‘But it isn’t about that, is it? I’d be typing to free up a man from somewhere else. I might not be on the front lines, but he could be. Because of me.’
‘Huh. Then I’d think you might stay for that poor sod’s sake.’
‘If everybody thought that way, we’d lose the war.’
‘Aye, all right. It were only a joke.’ Reg sighed. ‘Well, do what you think you have to. Mind, I can’t promise I’ll be able to take you back once you go.’
Bobby bowed her head. ‘I know.’
‘God knows if the mag’ll even make it through the war, the way they’re rationing paper. A few more years of it’ll finish us.’
‘And… Tony?’
‘He can apply, but I’m not promising owt.’
Bobby smiled. ‘Thank you. That was all I wanted.’
Chapter 15
After work, Bobby had a hasty bite of tea before mounting her bicycle to ride to Sumner House. It was time she could ill afford to spare, but as she was to be the maid of honour at the forthcoming wedding, it didn’t feel right to refuse her share of the work.
As instructed, Bobby didn’t knock when she reached the cottage in the grounds that Topsy and her former nanny, Mrs Hobbes, were occupying since Topsy’s manor house had been requisitioned for use as an RAF hospital.
She found a cosy scene inside. Mrs Hobbes was sewing in her rocking chair by the fireside, her tame goose Norman curled in her lap like a huge feathered cat. Topsy, meanwhile, sat at the feet of her fiancé Teddy, who was on the other side of the fire in his wheelchair. She sat between her lover’s knees with her head resting on his thigh and one of his hands held in hers.
Topsy had a pile of napkins and her sewing box by her feet, which lay neglected as she opted instead to trace the lines that crossed Teddy’s palm. Bobby had never seen her Polish friend, who was often depressed since the crash that had cost him the use of his legs, look so content.
Bobby crept in quietly, not wanting to disturb the reigning serenity, and lingered by the door.
‘Do you see my future in this hand, Topsy?’ Teddy asked softly, stroking her hair back from her face.
‘I do, darling. Your lines show you are to have a long and happy life filled with love.’ Topsy grinned up at him. ‘But you’re to give a lot of trouble as a husband. Of course, I don’t need to examine your palm to knowthat.’
