To Die but Once (Maisie Dobbs #14)(28)

“Oh, I thought you were your father for a moment, Bobby—it’s Miss Dobbs here.”

“’Allo, miss—if you’re looking for Dad, he won’t be back until tomorrow. I thought you knew—he’s coming back and so’s Mum and Maggie-ro.” Bobby yawned as he finished speaking.

Maisie smiled—unlike their parents, who referred to their daughter by her full name, the boys had always called her “Maggie-ro.” But she was also concerned.

“Your mum’s coming back?”

“She misses me, that’s what it is.” Bobby laughed, and continued. “Well, probably not, but she’s coming back—not to stay, because it’s better for them down there, but she’s coming back with Dad tomorrow. I reckon he’ll give me a ring soon, just to make sure I’m behaving myself.”

“And are you—behaving yourself?”

“Can’t do otherwise, can I? What with Mr. and Mrs. Pickering coming around—driving from all that way across the water, and telling me they were just passing, as if I don’t know that petrol coupons are like gold dust. And then there’s the woman next door, popping in to check up on me. I keep saying, ‘I’m sixteen—old enough to look after meself.’”

“Could you ask your dad to telephone me, as soon as he can?”

“Will do.” Bobby followed his words with a deep sigh.

“What is it, Bobby—are you all right? I can come over if you like—make you a nice dinner.”

“I’ve loads of nice dinners in that fridge. By the way, did you know my dad bought a fridge? Never had one before and don’t know anyone who’s got one either—he said it was a surprise, for my mum. Well, it will be, because it’s full of pies. I wish Mrs. Relf would bring cake—that’s what I fancy.”

“I’ll see what I can do for you.”

“Miss—can I ask you something?”

“What is it, Bobby?”

There was silence on the line.

“Bobby?”

“It’s like this, Miss Dobbs—you remember last year, at one of your Sunday dinners, I ended up talking to Tom, the one who’s gone into the RAF?”

“Yes, I remember—I saw you were deep in conversation.”

“He’s not really what I’d call my sort, all very posh, but he was nice to me and asked about what I do, you know, being a mechanic. I was telling him how I really like working on engines, that it’s sort of like playing a musical instrument for me—not that I can play any musical instrument, but it sounded right. I told him that I listen to the engines, that I listen for them to sort of sing. I can tell when I’ve got an engine right, by the sound. I thought he would laugh, but instead he says, ‘You should do an aircraft apprenticeship.’ And he told me about the college for aircraft mechanics, at RAF Halton, in Buckinghamshire. He said I’m old enough to join the RAF as an apprentice.”

Maisie felt her heart palpitate. Oh dear . . . Tom, what have you done now?

“Anyway,” Bobby continued, “he sent me a letter with all the details, and I found out how to apply. The woman in the library down the road helped me.”

“And you didn’t tell your dad, did you?”

“No. I mean, what with my brother going off into the army, I didn’t want to say anything, and it might’ve come to nothing anyway.”

“They’ve accepted you, haven’t they?” asked Maisie.

“I had to get out of my job for two days—couple of weeks ago now—to go for an interview and a medical. They got me to work on an engine too—it was really easy for me. Dad didn’t even notice I wasn’t there, because he was down in Hampshire. Anyway, the letter came this morning. I’ll be an RAF mechanic.”

“But they need your father’s signature on the permission form—is that it?”

“Yes.” Bobby Beale paused again. “He’ll do his nut. He won’t see that it’s a better job with more prospects than me converting old cars for the ARP, and spending my life in that garage. I mean, I’ve learned a lot, but I know I’m good at engines—I really am. Once I’m trained on aeroplanes, well, that’s me—set. Tom says that when this war is over, you watch, people will be going everywhere on aeroplanes, much more than they do now. I’ll have a job for life, and I could go to other places. I could even go across the world. And Tom says they have engineers on some of the actual aeroplanes. They have engineers on bombers. I could work my way up.”

“You want me to talk to your dad, don’t you?”

“He listens to you, miss. He says you think the right things. And what with my mum—you never know what’s going to happen. All I know is that if it wasn’t for Maggie-ro, she would be back in the nuthouse.”

“Bobby—come on, she’s your mother and she’s a good mother. You shouldn’t talk about her like that.”

“I know, but . . . it’s just that sometimes I want to get away from home.”

“Look, don’t tell your dad as soon as he walks into the house. Give them a chance to get settled, and if I were you, I would bide my time.”

“It’s because of what’s going on over there, isn’t it? Billy’s stuck there, I know he is.”