Soldiers' Wives (13 page)

Sharon still looked angry, so Jenna gave up. And then she noticed just how much snot the lad had produced. Euw. No way was she
ever
going to have kids. Shit and piss at one end and snot at the other.

Still cradling the injured toddler, Sharon got to her feet and, ignoring Jenna, walked off, accompanied by her Samaritan friend. Jenna returned indoors, and this time she did slam the door.

Rubbish house and a rubbish neighbour. Could life get any worse?

‘Can you come to my office for a moment?' said the MO.

Chrissie put aside the stack of soldiers' medical records that she had been refiling after morning sick parade and followed Major Rawlings along the corridor. He closed the door behind her and took his seat behind his desk.

Chrissie swallowed nervously. Uh-oh, what had she done?

‘Take a seat, Summers.'

Chrissie perched on the edge of the chair to one side of the desk, feeling a little more relaxed. Soldiers about to be bollocked didn't get to sit down.

‘I've been thinking about your request for a posting, Summers.'

For a fortnight? He'd been sitting on her application for a whole fortnight, while she'd been on edge, wondering if it would be rejected. Well, thanks a bunch, sir. It's just my life and career you've been messing with. Instead she said, as evenly as she could, ‘Yes, sir.'

‘And I've just finished reading the PXR for Exercise Autumn Armour.'

He'd lost her. ‘PXR?'

‘Post exercise report.'

‘Oh, good.' She hadn't a clue what she was supposed to say to that. Did he want a prize for good work? And his point was…?

‘I was particularly interested in how the medical team performed.'

Oh, well, that was that, then. Given how she'd been useless, when confronted with a hideously traumatic injury (and it had only been a
fake
one, not even the
real
thing), there was no way anyone was going to want her on the front line. More of a liability than anything else. She waited for the bad news.

‘Corporal Johns spoke highly of you.'

‘Phil did? Sorry, sir, Corporal Johns did?' Chrissie couldn't keep her stunned surprise out of her voice. She didn't think her immediate superior rated her very much at all – she knew he'd always been nice to her, but that was just because he was a nice guy. Even he had been less than impressed when she'd honked over Lee.

Major Rawlings smiled. ‘Why the surprise?'

‘Oh, no reason.' If it wasn't in the PXR, then she wasn't going to blow it now, by telling him. ‘So does that mean you're going to recommend me for a posting?'

Her boss nodded. ‘But not just yet.'

‘Oh.'

‘I thought after Christmas, so you can spend the holiday with your folks and then we'll think about it in the new year.'

‘That's very thoughtful of you, sir, but I don't have any family.'

‘What, no one?'

Chrissie shook her head. ‘Not that I know of. My father is an American airman who disappeared off the scene before I was born – I don't even know his name, as it doesn't appear on my birth certificate, and my mother was an only, like me, and she's dead. And as for grandparents… I haven't a clue.'

Major Rawlings shook his head. ‘I'm sorry, Summers. I had no idea.'

‘No reason why you should, is there, sir? It isn't tattooed on my forehead. But it does mean that Christmas and stuff like that doesn't play a big part in my life.'

‘I can see that. Even so, regardless of your personal circumstances, I'll need a replacement for you. Corporal Johns is already out there, so I'm short-staffed as it is, and the Manning Office has informed me that there is a shortage of fully trained combat medical techs. The ones they've got have already been earmarked to go straight to Bastion. Until they can post someone in to replace you, I'm afraid I can't release you.'

‘But I will be allowed to go.'

The MO nodded. ‘In due course.'

‘I'll have to be patient then, won't I, sir?'

‘Let's hope it's not for too long.'

You and me both, mate. On the bright side, Lee had finally given up texting her, so that was one less thing to worry about. Immi had passed her BFT, so that was another. All in all, if she got this posting, life was looking pretty good again.

Seb Fanshaw sat on a chair in the adjutant's office.

‘And it's got to be someone from my platoon?' he said.

Andy Bailey, the battalion's adjutant and thus Lieutenant Colonel Notley's right-hand man, leaned forwards across his desk. ‘That's what the commanding officer said. Of course, if you want to go and argue the toss with him…'

‘No, no, of course not.'

‘Thought not. But 2 Herts is having a nightmare of a tour; they've lost fifteen men so far, killed and wounded, and they've only been there three weeks. They can't expect to operate effectively unless they're brought up to strength. The TA can provide some of the replacements immediately, on a temporary basis, but we've got to find the others for permanent deployment in the new year. And the CO said we can't ask for volunteers to step forward as battle casualty replacements. He knows the ones who are likely to do it and they may not be the most appropriate candidates.'

Seb nodded. ‘It's just it's a tough call. Not made any easier by the fact I haven't had a chance to really get to know all my men yet.'

‘That won't wash with the CO. You've been here well over a month; he'll just want to know what you've been doing.'

Seb sighed. ‘I'm on the case,' he said defensively.

‘I'm sure you are.'

‘But the first couple of weeks was that exercise. With everyone cammed up to the eyeballs, putting names to faces was fucking hard.'

‘You'd better come up with a better excuse than that, if you don't want the CO to read you your fortune. It's all very well being the rowing hero, Seb, but you're not at university now, and just spending your long vac being a soldier. This is the day job as well, now.'

Seb put his hands up. ‘I know, I know, and forget what I said. I'll find you a likely candidate. Promise.'

He picked his beret off the desk and returned to his own company lines and his office. Dispiritedly he sat down behind his desk and wondered how to start making the choice. As if he didn't have enough on his plate. Maddy seemed to be in a permanent grump, Nate never seemed to stop crying, his rowing training wasn't going well and now this. He held in his hands the fate of one of his soldiers, and the weight of responsibility was heavy. But this was one of the things he'd trained for; this was why he was an officer, why he got paid more than a soldier – making tough decisions came with his job description.

He rolled his chair across the floor to the noticeboard and unpinned his copy of the nominal roll. So, who should go? He flicked over the first page, which listed the NCOs, and turned to the second sheet of blue copier paper. He ran his finger down the list of twenty or so names. Not the guys with kids, he thought. And maybe not the married ones. No, that was unfair; the unmarried ones still had girlfriends, mothers, sisters…

There was only one fair way to do this. He shut his eyes and jabbed his finger at the paper. He opened his eyes again. Perkins. Perkins would be going to Afghanistan. Seb thought about it and realised that, in fact, this was the perfect choice; Perkins was one of the few guys in the battalion, and probably the only guy in the platoon, who had never done a tour there. If he really had the potential to get promoted, it was essential he did a tour there first; there was no way he could command respect from other soldiers who had been out there several times if he had no actual combat experience himself. Perkins it was, then.

It was just Mrs Perkins that niggled Seb – how was she going to take the news, and what spanners would she chuck into the works, once she'd heard it?

‘You're going where?' shrieked Immi. She put down her knife and fork, pushed her lunch away from her and glared at Chrissie.

‘Bastion.'

‘Why?'

‘Because I'm a combat medic. Because I volunteered.'

Immi shook her head in disbelief. ‘You did what? Volunteered? For Bastion? But it's dangerous, you stupid moo. Rule one of being in the army is never,
ever
volunteer for anything. If you learned nothing else at basic training, surely you learned that. And you not only volunteered, but you volunteered for Bastion, and it's dangerous out there. And hot in the summer, freezing in the winter, and did I mention it's dangerous? Oh, and it's dangerous, fucking dangerous.'

Chrissie put her hands up. ‘I know, I know, but I won't be on the front line. Well, not much.'

‘Not
much
!' Immi's voice rose to a bat-squeak. ‘You shouldn't want to go near the front line
at all
.'

‘Yes, I know. Let me guess, it's dangerous. But I'm a soldier.'

‘You're a
woman
!'

‘And?' Chrissie glared at Immi. She'd thought she would be glad for her, not reacting like this. ‘I want to help people, make them better.'

‘Well, you won't be doing that with a bullet in you.'

‘Who says I'll get shot?'

‘People do out there. That's what happens – or worse. What the fuck is wrong with the cushy job you've got here?'

Nothing, but it wasn't enough. She needed to push herself, test herself, and Afghanistan mightn't be a holiday destination but it was abroad. She'd never been abroad, hell, she'd never even been in a plane. And in a year or so, Afghan wouldn't be an option. And not long after Afghan came off the list of possible postings so would Germany. What then – join the army and see Colchester and Catterick and maybe Salisbury Plain…?

‘It's just something I want to do.'

Immi's eyebrows shot up. ‘Like you're so good with trauma. I remember what you told me happened on that exercise.'

‘That was a one-off.'

Immi snorted. ‘Says you, but you haven't been able to put the theory to the test since, have you? Giving people anti-tetanus jabs and stitching up the odd cut is hardly dealing with T1 casualties, now, is it? And what happens if you're wrong?'

‘I'm not.'

Immi softened. ‘Look, hon, I don't want to see you upset or hurt. It's awful out there. You'll have to deal with dreadful stuff, soldiers blown to bits, people dying, ruined lives. And the conditions are rank and…' Immi's eyes filled with tears.

Chrissie took her friend's hand. ‘It's my job,' she said gently. ‘It's what I signed up to do. And the war is going to go on whether I'm there or not, and the soldiers, guys like Baz or Lee or your…' She couldn't remember the name of Immi's latest.

‘Tom,' supplied Immi, helpfully.

‘Your Tom, are still going to get hurt. So if I can do something,
anything
, to stop just one of them ending up in a wheelchair, or dead, then I want to.'

‘I suppose,' said Immi. She sighed. ‘So when are you going?'

Chrissie shrugged. ‘Dunno. When they can replace me.'

‘No one can replace you,' said Immi. ‘And that's the truth.'

Nate's colic was finally on the wane and he sometimes went a couple of hours without wailing, so Maddy was making the most of this window of peace and quiet to whizz to the supermarket and get a few essentials. She pushed his buggy past the shelves and freezer units, hoping inspiration would strike about what she could feed Seb for supper. Obviously, if he was going to be rowing over the weekend – and when wasn't he? – it had to be something laden with carbs and calories. Bangers, mash and beans, she wondered. No, they'd had that only last week. She peered at a chiller cabinet full of ready meals, lost in thought, and hoping for a brainwave.

‘Hiya, Maddy.'

She spun round. ‘Jenna. Lovely to see you.'

‘Your hair's still looking good,' said Jenna.

‘Isn't it? And have you moved into your quarter yet?'

‘Yesterday.'

‘Lovely.'

Jenna's face darkened. ‘Not really. It's a dump.'

‘Oh. I'm sorry.' Maddy knew full well that army quarters weren't fantastic, but dump was a bit harsh, wasn't it?

‘Lee says I'm making a fuss and it's not too bad, but he's used to living in trenches and all.'

‘Well, they don't object to you making the odd improvement – a coat of paint a nice rug or two—'

Jenna held her hand up to stop Maddy. ‘Don't you start. Sorry, but if one more person tells me that a few scatter cushions will make all the difference…'

‘Oh.'

‘But I'm going to make improvements all right. I've got plans. And the place might be a dump, but I still reckon I can make something of it.'

‘Really?'

‘Yeah. If I rip the bath out of the bathroom and put a shower in instead, I can fit a backwash unit and set up in hairdressing.'

‘But you can't do that!' Maddy was stunned.

‘What's to stop me?'

‘Well… there's regulations.'

‘Oh yeah? But we pay rent. It's my house now.'

‘I don't think the army'll see it like that.'

‘Like I care.'

Maddy was about to say, ‘Well, you should,' when she stopped. This wasn't her business. She wasn't to interfere, Seb had told her straight, and he'd be livid if he found out she'd offered advice to a soldier's wife again. There was no way she was going to do anything that Seb might think was out of line for the platoon commander's wife. She couldn't face another argument. She was still not getting enough sleep, although Nate was much better than he had been, and Seb was working all hours, so they were both knackered. If they started arguing, God only knew where it would end. So, instead, Maddy said, ‘Good luck.'