Free Avalanche of Daisies by Beryl Kingston Page B

don’t even know who she is.’ She’d been clearing the breakfast things when the letter arrived but now she stood by the kitchen table with her right hand splayed against the oilcloth, looking down at the faded blue and yellow checks, noticing how frayed the edges were, too upset to move. ‘It’s so unlike him,’ she complained. ‘He’s such a sensible boy.’
    Bob Wilkins took the letter and let her run on while he read it. This was the moment he’d been half-expecting ever since Steve had been called up. The boy was too full of life not to fall in love sooner or later. You had to expect it. But he’d always known it would upset poor Heather when it happened. She was so bound up in him. Always had been. Being the only one, that was the trouble. He glanced at her now, standing by the table in her flowery apron, her long face set and stubborn. Poor old gel. She’ll be better once she’s got the first shock out of her system. But no matter what she might hope, he knew Steve wasn’t joking. He could see that by the strength of the handwriting, even before he digested the words. ‘
I have met the girl I am going to marry. There is not much time now before we go. A matter of weeks. I have got a 36 hour pass on Wednesday. I will tell you all about it then. Love to you both.
’
    â€˜You see what he says,’ Heather said, her face anguished. ‘A matter of weeks. He’s going in a matter of weeks.’
    So that’s it, Bob thought, and he moved towards her at once to comfort her. He was due at the signal-box in ten minutes so he’d have to set off soon otherwise he’d be late, which was unthinkable because he’d never been late in the whole of his working life. But he couldn’t leave her. Not when she was in a state. ‘He’ll be all right,’ he said, putting his arms round her. ‘You’ll see.’
    That only made her worse. ‘Oh talk sense for crying out loud,’ she cried. ‘How can he be all right when the Germans’ll be firing shells at him? An’ bullets an’ bombs an’ God knows what else. You don’t imagine he’ll be able to get out the way a’
that
do you? It’s a bloody nightmare. Bad enough he’s got to go, without springing this on us at the last moment.’
    How grey she’s getting, Bob thought, kissing her hair and remembering how it had been when it was young and auburn. He was aching with pity for her. ‘She’s probably a very nice girl,’ he soothed. ‘I mean you couldn’t imagine our Steve picking anyone who wasn’t, now could you?’ And when she gave him a wry look, ‘Well there you are, you see. He’s a good lad. An’ he’s bound to marry sometime. I mean it’s only natural. Let’s not be hasty. Wait an’ hear what he’s got to say about it. That’s the best plan.’
    â€˜Say?’ she cried, looking up at him, blue eyes wild. ‘What’s the good a’ saying things? It don’t matter tuppence what you say. Not in the middle of a war. I mean who’s going to listen? It’s all
“Grin an’ bear it.” “See it through.” “We can take it!
” Be just the same if we couldn’t. We’re stuck with it. We just got to sit here and take whatever’s slung at us. An’ I tell you Bob, I’m sick to death of it.’
    â€˜I know,’ he said, stroking the nape of her neck, the way he always did when he was trying to console her. ‘I know. It’ll be over soon.’
    Her face was wrinkling towards tears. ‘It’s all so unfair.’
    â€˜I know,’ he said again, his voice so full of tenderness the words were a caress.
    She blinked away the need to cry. ‘Anyway,’ she said taking refuge in renewed irritation, ‘he’s too young to get married.’
    â€˜He was twenty last week,’ Bob