‘I’m glad to hear it,’ she said. ‘My decision still stands, of course. I can’t make exceptions for individual women. But I’m pleased to hear your relations with Flying Officer King are no more than they ought to be. I must admit, I was concerned for you.’
Bobby smiled warmly back, thinking how easy it could be to misjudge someone.
She had respected Mulligan from the moment she had heard her speech, urging her WAAFs to stand tall against those who might undermine them, but even so, she hadn’t liked her much. The officer had seemed so cold, so lacking in compassion andkindness, that it had been hard to warm to her on any personal level. Bobby had been convinced that Mulligan hadn’t liked her much either – ever since her interview, when the officer had seemed to mark her down as a shirker. But now, Bobby found she had come to rather like ‘old Stewpot’ after all. There was a human heart beneath the stern crust, if you took the trouble to go hunting for it.
‘That’s good of you, ma’am,’ she said. ‘But honestly, there’s no need to worry. Flying Officer King is a friend, and I can assure you that’s all he ever will be. May I return to work?’
‘There was one more thing,’ Mulligan said. ‘You have family nearby, I think?’
‘Yes, in Silverdale. Why do you ask?’
‘I wanted to enquire how you’d feel about staying on here, after your basic training is complete. I’ve been impressed with the work you’ve done for me, and HQ tell me it will be at least a month until they can send a replacement for Corporal Hudson.’
‘She isn’t coming back?’
‘No. I understand her husband’s injury means he now requires constant care. She’s to be discharged on compassionate grounds.’ Mulligan leaned towards her. ‘I know this isn’t what you wanted to be doing, and I won’t press if you’d prefer to move on with the other girls after passing out. But it would allow you to spend a little more time near your family, and… well, if you still had your heart set on being a plotter, I could help you get a place on a suitable training course. You’ve a good brain in that head, Bancroft. Whatever your trade, I can see a bright future for you in the WAAF.’
Bobby considered this. That word, ‘future’, jarred her rather. It still felt like such a hazy, will-o’-the-wisp idea. No sooner had it started to take on a form then a gust of wind came and turned it back into mist.
Don had been right: Bobby was bored in her new work, however necessary it might be for the smooth running of the RAF. There was so little to occupy her brain in the daily mindless transcription of militaryese, learning how to operate the camp teleprinter, sorting post, filing records in the orderly room and other admin tasks that were the lot of the WAAF general clerk. The thought of doing it for several hours every day felt mind-numbing. Nevertheless, the option to remain close to her family for a little longer was appealing. And Mulligan was offering her the chance to do something truly important when her time here was up – something that could save lives, and perhaps even help turn the tide of the war.
‘Thank you,’ she said at last. ‘I’d like that very much.’
Three days passed, each one seeing another mark added to the tally in Hut 17. Eventually, on Saturday morning, there were thirteen marks on the board – the penultimate day of their isolation.
Bobby could feel her body vibrating with nervous tension. Of course she was desperate to know how Lil, Tony and her father were getting along at the cow house. She was keen to learn from Mary how preparations were going for the arrival of Captain Parry, and she hoped there might be a letter from Topsy. But it was Charlie, and the prospect of one or more letters from him, that kept her heart perpetually in her mouth.
He must still love her. Perhaps love could peter out if it was neglected, but it didn’t stop all of a sudden, and Charlie had seemed to love her so much. Whatever Mike’s husband David did while his wife was far away, whatever other men did, Bobby felt certain Charlie would be true to her.
She could still remember the way he had held her the last time they had seen one another: the tender, hungry lips he had pressed to hers, and his eagerness – almost his desperation – for their wedding day. It was inconceivable that his feelings could have changed so suddenly and drastically, or that he would ever stray.
That was what Bobby tried to tell herself. But there was another voice: one that whispered cruel, painful, pitiless things to her when she lay on her hard bunk at night.
Hadn’t he been a flirt when she first met him? Didn’t he have every girl in the village in love with him, once upon a time? Isn’t he a man, with desires and urges like the rest?
But what worried Bobby most wasn’t that Charlie was a man like any other. It was the thought that he was afraid, far from home, dealing with the daily risk to his own life as well as the constant grief of men he had bonded with being killed in action. If Bobby was lonely and frightened here in the WAAF, how much worse must it be for Charlie?
It wrung her heart to think of it. He must need love so much, now. She could imagine how he must long for warm arms around him, and the hushed whisper of a tender voice that comforted and reassured. How she wished she could give him those things! But the war had decreed they had to part, and she couldn’t in all honesty say she would blame Charlie if, in his need for comfort, he had found another love. It would break her heart, but she couldn’t blame him.
She wondered if she should have done what Mike had, and given her blessing for Charlie to seek comfort of the purely physical variety with other women. War was such a unique situation, where none of the usual rules of romantic relationships seemed to apply. At least then, she would know his feelings were with her even if his lips were with someone else. But she couldn’t. The idea of Charlie holding someone theway he held her, all those sensations she had been proud to feel belonged to her alone being stirred by another… no. She couldn’t bear to think of it, and she was sure Charlie would feel the same about the idea of her with someone else.
Or he would have, when he still cared…
Bobby tried to smother the treacherous thought. There was no point giving in to such whispers; not until she knew for sure. She had sent the wire sanctioned by Mulligan to let Charlie know their marriage had been approved and they could officially set the date for the 2nd of May, but had opted not to notify the folk at Moorside until she heard back from her fiancé. She was sure there would be something from him tomorrow, even if it was a letter breaking things off. He couldn’t ignore her and hope she disappeared, surely. That just wasn’t Charlie.
Saturdays were half-days, with parade and a route march in the morning but the afternoons free to do as they wished. After they had completed square-bashing around the parade ground, the WAAFs lined up in front of Mulligan.
‘Good morning, ladies,’ the squadron officer greeted them. ‘You will be pleased to hear I have good news for you this glorious sunny Saturday.’
Mulligan didn’t beam – Bobby wasn’t sure she was capable of such a thing – but she did regard them more complacently than she was wont to do.
‘What’s she got planned then?’ Mike murmured.
‘You have now been here nearly two weeks, and have conducted yourselves, I must say, admirably,’ the squadron officer told them. ‘Not a single one of you has been on charge, and you are routinely smart, polite and conscientious, although I know what a shock it can be to leave civilian life and enter a military environment. I am exceptionally proud of you all. I have spoken with Squadron Leader Gardiner and he shares my opinion that you have proven yourselves a credit to the service.Thus we have decided that with today being Saturday, following your route march, we will end the embargo period early. You will all be issued with your post, be free to write to or telephone your families, and this evening the RAF officers have kindly offered to host a dance for all ranks in the NAAFI canteen.’
There was a buzz of excited conversation among the women, and Carol grabbed at Bobby’s arm. No doubt she was thinking of Ernie King, who she hadn’t spoken to since the day of his lecture, although she had apparently spent a lot of time trying to catch his eye in the officers’ mess.
‘Tell you what, she’s not such a bad old stick, is she?’ she whispered to Bobby.
