Dilys ignored her. However, Bobby wasn’t going to be put off. She was determined to make a friend of this girl, one way or another.
‘Look, I’m sorry about before,’ she said. ‘I was trying to make a joke, but I guess it came out wrong. That’s the story of my life really. I’m not good at making friends – never have been. If I offended you then I apologise.’
Again Dilys remained silent, but she deigned to shrug, which Bobby thought might be a good sign.
‘What are you writing?’ she asked, squinting at the notebook. She couldn’t understand a word of what was written there. To her eyes, it seemed a mere jumble of letters.
‘Letter home,’ Dilys mumbled.
‘What code is that?’
Dilys’s mouth twitched. ‘It’s Welsh, Dumbo the elephant.’
Bobby smiled. ‘I thought you must be spying for the Jerries. Who’s it to?’
‘Richie. He’ll have a fit if I don’t write soon as I’m allowed.’
‘Didn’t you say you were going to ditch him?’
‘I can’t.’ Dilys hunched over her notebook. ‘Not yet.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because… what if I can’t get anyone better?’ She shuddered. ‘End up an old maid like Mulligan?’
‘Better that than with a man like him,’ Bobby muttered darkly. ‘Besides, you’ve got plenty of time to meet someone. A good man, who values and deserves you.’
Dilys turned to look at her, scowling. ‘Why’re you being nice to me?’
‘Because I want us to be friends.’
‘No you don’t,’ Dilys said, still scowling. ‘I’ve seen how you look at me.’
‘How?’
‘You know full well. Like I’m not worth a damn. Like you think you’re better than me.’
Bobby frowned. ‘Now why on earth would you think that?’
Dilys shrugged again, and went back to her letter.
Bobby thought back to the day they’d met, when she had heard Dilys condemn her as a prig. She tried to recall all their interactions since then. She knew she could be stiff and awkward with new people, but did Dilys really believe Bobby despised her?
Or was this not really about her at all?
‘Does he make you feel like that?’ she asked quietly.
‘Who?’
‘Richie. Does he make you feel like you’re worthless?’
Dilys looked up sharply. ‘Who said that? Was it Mike?’
‘No one said it. I’m saying it,’ Bobby said. ‘He does, doesn’t he?’
Dilys bit her lip, fighting back tears. Sensing she was embarrassed, Bobby looked away.
Colourful spring flowers had popped out across the peaty fells after so many weeks of rain: golden saxifrage, purple dog-violet. Bobby took a deep breath, listening to the harsh whistle of a curlew and thinking of home. When she turned back, she found Dilys watching her curiously.
