There was no need to tell her dad about Lilian’s engagement. Not yet. If he found out what Tony had done, he’d have beaten the man to a bloody pulp before Lil had a chance to get him to the register office. He’d never approved of Bobby’s friendship with ‘that nowt’, as he always called Tony. And if he ever found out that the situation was, in some ways, because of him – that Lilian and Tony had only begun walking out because Lil felt obliged to pay Tony back for suppressing a newspaper piece about her dad’s black market activities – it could send his mental state spiralling. Besides, Bobby was determined to speak to her sister before she went through with the wedding.
But her medical was in two days’ time, and her dad needed to be made aware.
Bobby tried to keep her tone light as she twiddled the knob on the wireless.
‘It isn’t bad news,’ she said. ‘But I am going to have to disappear on Wednesday – just for the day. I had a letter this morning summoning me to Bradford for a medical examination.’
Her dad had been about to sit in his chair by the fire. He stopped, frowning.
‘Medical examination?’ He sounded suddenly afraid. Bobby knew he was thinking of her mother, and the cancer that had taken her from them nine years earlier. ‘You badly wi’ summat then?’
‘I feel as well as I ever did. But… well, see for yourself.’
She passed him the crumpled War Office letter. Her father’s blank look told her he still didn’t understand.
‘It’s the forces, Dad.’ She went to take his coat and guided him into his chair, trying to keep her voice reassuring. ‘Women’s conscription – do you remember? They passed a new bill before Christmas. But it’s nothing to worry about. Reg found a loophole.’
‘Loophole?’ her dad said, looking dazed.
‘Yes, for hardship cases. You have to have someone to keep house for you, don’t you? If I tell them you’re a widower and I’m the only family left at home, they’re bound to see it my way.’
Her dad didn’t answer. He looked rather helpless, and smaller suddenly, hunched in his chair. His eyes darted around the room, into the shadows that filled the old barn, as if contemplating the terror of having to occupy the place alone.
Bobby approached his chair from behind. She removed his cloth cap and bent to kiss his bald crown.
‘Don’t worry, Dad,’ she said softly. ‘I’m sure they wouldn’t make me go. Even if they did, you’ve Reg and Mary just across the way, and your friends in the village, and your work for Topsy to occupy you. Mary would make sure you had everything you needed. You’d hardly even miss me.’
‘But you’ll not go? You’ll tell them you’re needed at home?’ His voice shook, and he looked up into her eyes. ‘I don’t know how I’d get on without you, our Bobby.’
The pleading note cut her right to the heart. She knew what he meant. The temptation to drink, without the steadying influence of a daughter who looked up to him, would perhaps be too great to resist.
‘I’ll do everything I can,’ she said. But something made her add, ‘Everything I think is right.’
Bobby rose earlier than usual again the next day. Her alarm clock rang once more at five a.m., although she might as well not have bothered setting it, as she had barely slept the night before. An uneasy rest had been interrupted by the racking sobs of her father, crying in his sleep. Once she had brought him back from the dark place and quieted the ghosts in his head with a measure of the potato-peel spirit her friend Don Sykes got for her, Bobby had been unable to get back to the land of dreams. Her brain had been too full of her predicament, and her sister’s.
Her gaze fell on Charlie’s photograph. How she wished she could speak to him, just for a moment! Letters were so dry, and it was hard to pour her heart out as she would if she had him with her. She longed to be held, comforted, told everything was going to be all right.
There were still patches of treacherous ice about, but the thaw had set in, and Bobby was able to ride her bicycle into Silverdale without much danger. She found Gil Capstick opening up the post office.
‘Morning, Miss,’ he called out jovially. ‘You’re out and about early again. More of them Red Cross parcels to drop off?’
‘No, this is for me,’ Bobby said, panting slightly – she had pedalled like the blazes to reach the village so she wouldn’t be late for work. ‘I’ve a couple of wires to send. I’ll pay the extra shilling for priority. Can you take them down for me, Gil?’
‘Well, we’re not rightly open for quarter of an hour, but since it’s you. Come on in where it’s warmer.’
She did so, although if anything, the old stone post office felt even colder than the winter air outside. Bobby shivered as she waited for Gil to dig out his pencil and pad.
‘Now then, who’re we wiring?’ he asked.
‘Charlie first, please. RAF Ryland Moor.’
‘Still there, is he? I heard they were sending him to Lincolnshire somewhere.’
‘They are, soon, but he hasn’t gone yet.’
‘All right, what’s the message?’
Bobby hesitated. ‘Just say… “LLP tonight? Need to see you. Urgent.”’
