“But, Aunt Stella, I’m about to win the war,” he said, looking up from a set of tin soldiers he must have borrowed from Robin.
“Bobby,” she said sharply.
“We’re invading Tahiti!” he whinged, pointing to a postcard of the tropical island she’d found in a charity shop and stuck to the wall with Sellotape.
She planted her hands on her hips. “You’re being a very naughty boy.”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she wished she could pull them back. Her nephew seemed to close in on himself, become somehow smaller.
She pushed her hair back from her forehead. She was rubbish at this. Pure rubbish. Despite trying her hardest to do right by her nephew, every time it was just the two of them, she seemed to put a foot wrong. Just last week, she’d tried to explain that he must wait to be asked up to the nursery because Robin might not wish to play with him now that he was sleeping in the cot beside her bed once again. Rather than chasing after him when he ran crying from the room, she’d slumped in her chair, defeated. All she’d wanted to do was warn her nephew that at some point the divide between servant and master would be too wide to overcome.
Yet she hadn’t been able to rid herself of the guilt that had split her in two at the sound of his crying.
“We have to get to the church, Bobby. Remember, Miss Pedley is getting married today, and you’re invited just like a big boy,” she said.
He looked up from under a flop of hair she could never get to lay down quite right. “I like Miss Pedley,” he said softly.
“Me, too,” said Stella.
He held his arms out for his jacket.
Stella blew out a slow, steady breath and slipped the sleeves over his arms and shoulders. Then she gave it another good once-over with the clothing brush.
“That’s you done, then,” she said, picking up her handbag. “Let’s go see Beth married.”
* * *
Stella found a spot in the third pew from the front. The wedding had all come together so quickly, she didn’t know who had been invited. She nodded a hello to Mrs. Penworthy and several of the land girls. Two nurses sat on Beth’s side, too, with two others for Graeme, as he’d told Stella to call him. The pair of nurses not in attendance were back at the hospital tending to the patients who were too sick or unable to make the short walk to the village church for the ceremony. Even Mrs. George was there with her little band of minions—a relief, because Stella hated to leave the kitchen defenseless while the woman was around.
She stole a glance at the front of the church where Graeme stood in his uniform. Her friend had caught a handsome one, Stella would give her that.
She felt a little tug on her arm, Bobby pulling the sleeve of her pale yellow dress.
“Can I sit with Robin?” the little boy asked.
“Robin is sitting with his mother today,” she said just as the boy in question turned around from his spot in the first pew to stick his tongue out at Bobby.
Bobby broke out into a laugh that turned several heads. Fortunately, everyone who caught Stella’s eye looked like an understanding sort.
“He wants me to sit with him.” Bobby shifted in his seat. “He does!”
“There will be plenty of time to play after the ceremony,” she said. There would be no stopping him because, although she was a guest, she’d also made the wedding breakfast her present to the couple. It would be the very best that rations could offer—some donated by Mrs. George and the convalescent hospital—with the crowning achievement a two-tiered cake, made with real eggs and butter. She just hoped that it would be enough to give everyone a little slice.
Bobby settled into his seat with his arms crossed over his chest, but he didn’t fight her anymore. She was, she’d found, impervious to a pouted lip and could ride out a temper tantrum with the best of them.
“Bride or groom?”
Stella turned to the woman who’d asked the question, taking in her fiery-red hair and meticulously tailored dress.
“Bride,” she replied.
“I am as well.” The woman gave a carefree laugh. “How do you know Beth?”
“We met when she began making deliveries to Highbury House.”
“Those deliveries…” the other woman muttered before shaking her head.
“Beth also comes up to sketch in the gardens.”
“And visit her captain, I’m sure. Who knew she would be the smart one, taking on deliveries.”
A light coating of bitterness coated the words. “And you?” Stella asked, trying to steer the conversation onto safer ground.