Soldiers' Wives (14 page)

‘Cheers. And when it's done, you can be my first customer. I owe you that much, at least. On the house.' She smiled at Maddy.

‘Great, thanks.' Well, that was something. Then she had a rethink. Of course she wasn't going to get a free hairdo. There was no way the army was going to let Jenna carry out her plans. Ever.

Seb walked back from Battalion HQ to his office. The adjutant had approved his selection of Private Perkins; they'd checked with Manning and Records and, as far as the army's main human resources office was concerned, there was nothing in Perkins' records to prevent him from going. So this was it: this was the moment when he would have to break the news. No matter that the poor bugger, after months of waiting for a quarter, had finally got one and had just moved in with his new bride, he was the one who was going. The phrase, ‘If you can't take a joke you shouldn't have joined,' jostled to the front of Seb's brain. Only this wasn't much of a joke.

He shouldered open the swing door to the company offices and pulled his beret off his head. He passed one of the clerks as he made his way to his office and asked him to send Perkins to see him. Might as well get this over and done with.

‘You sent for me, boss.'

Seb looked up and saw Perkins peering round the door. ‘Come in, take a seat. I've got some news. There's no easy way to tell you.'

Perkins' face went white as he staggered a little shakily to the chair. ‘It's not me mam, is it?'

‘Your mother? Good Lord, no. God, sorry, I didn't mean to give you a scare like that.'

‘Oh, as long as it isn't her, then that's OK.'

‘No, this is just army business. I'm warning you for posting.'

‘Posting? But I've only just got here. I've only just got me quarter, like.'

‘I know but you're needed as a battlefield casualty replacement and you're going to be temporarily transferred to 2 Herts.' Seb studied Lee's face. Was he pleased, apprehensive or what? Soldiers might join the army knowing the job description would probably involve combat, but not everyone relished the prospect, when it became a reality. ‘So how do you feel about it?'

‘Don't rightly know, sir. It's all a bit left field. I don't suppose the wife's going to be too happy.'

‘I'm afraid that's the penalty they pay for marrying a soldier.'

‘I think she already thinks there have been too many penalties and not enough perks,' said Lee drily. ‘When am I likely to go?'

‘You'll be sent on some pre-ops training. You'll have to have medicals, jabs, that sort of stuff. If you haven't made a will, then you should, especially now you're a married man.'

‘OK, boss, I get the picture.'

‘Sorry, Perkins, but it's best you face up to the realities.'

Lee stayed silent.

‘Any questions?'

‘Yeah, you still haven't told me when I'm off.'

‘Probably after Christmas. You're also entitled to some pre-ops leave; take Mrs Perkins away somewhere nice, maybe.'

‘Thank you for the advice, sir. Is that all?'

‘Seems like quite a lot to me, Perkins.'

He stood up to go, then turned. ‘Just one thing, sir.'

‘Yes?'

‘Why me? I mean, I'm not being difficult but you know, with a new wife and all and some of the guys are single…'

‘You're the only one in the platoon who's not done a tour.' Seb didn't tell him it was also the luck of the draw.

‘Fair enough, sir. I think the wife'll be more understanding if that's the reason.'

Seb hoped for Perkins' sake she was. Somehow, from what he'd read, and heard on the grapevine, he doubted it.

After duties that evening, Lee walked slowly back to his quarter, wondering how on earth he was going to break it to Jenna that he was off to Afghanistan in a few weeks' time for at least three months, maybe longer. He had really mixed feelings about it, but he didn't think Jenna would see anything but the downside of it all; that they'd only been married a few months, the army had dragged its heels over giving them a quarter, and now they had they were being split up again. How were they supposed to make a go of married life with that sort of shit going on? She wouldn't listen to what he said about it being important that he did an operational tour if he wanted promotion. He couldn't expect her to understand that – she was a hairdresser not a soldier. Thank God she had a job, he thought. At least that would give her a focus each day – something to think about, other than what he might be getting up to and what he might have to face.

He'd already decided to play down that he was quite excited about the prospect of going out there. Combat – that was what he'd been trained for, that was what he'd joined the army to do; but all the same, now the reality of actually fighting was right there, it was a bit of a facer. He knew it wouldn't be the same as playing soldiers on the DCCT range or having a shoot-out on Call of Duty – there was no reset button out in Afghan, no extra lives to be had at the click of a mouse button. And it didn't help matters that 2 Herts had had so many casualties so far. It made you wonder, he thought, whether they were unlucky or careless. Christ, he hoped it was the former. He really didn't relish being in a multiple with some moron for a boss, who had no idea about tactics or risk.

He walked past the turning to the bigger, swankier officers' quarters with the cherry trees on the lawns that fronted the houses and with the Land Rover Discoveries, the Passat estates and the nippy Minis parked in the drives, and continued along the main drag through the garrison to the smaller, shabbier houses, where the soldiers lived, the ones with the Corsas and Mondeos outside.

How, Lee wondered, had Jenna ever thought they would get a house on Omdurman Avenue? But if she'd seriously thought she was going to live in a gaff like Captain Fanshaw's, no wonder she'd been disappointed when she saw their final allocation. She'd get used to it – it wasn't so bad, and it would be better when she'd made friends with the other wives.

He arrived at his house. There was a white van parked outside. What was going on? He was just about to put the key in the latch when a bloke in brown overalls barrelled out of the door, almost knocking Lee down.

‘Sorry, guv, didn't see you there,' was all he said, before he jumped into his vehicle and sped away.

‘Jenna,' called Lee as he went inside.

‘Hi, babes,' she said, coming down the stairs.

‘Who was that?' Lee pulled his beret off his head and dumped his combat jacket over the banisters. Jenna picked them both up and hung them on the hooks behind the front door.

‘Just the plumber,' said Jenna.

‘What's wrong? The housing commandant didn't tell me there was a problem. Well, except for those shelves.'

‘Oh, it's nothing, just routine maintenance. Just as well I was in, really,' she said lightly.

‘Yeah.' But he wasn't really listening. He was still wondering how to break the news to her. ‘Look, Jenna, how about we have a cuppa?'

Jenna gave him a hard stare. ‘Something up?'

‘Sort of.'

‘If it's about that kid yesterday, it wasn't my fault.'

‘Kid?'

‘Oh, it was nothing. A woman and a toddler came round and the kid got its fingers in the way when I shut the door. I said sorry.'

Lee shook his head. What was she on about? ‘No, it's nothing like that.' He moved into the kitchen and filled the kettle. ‘It's sort of bad news.'

‘Not your mum?'

Lee shook his head. ‘No, me mam's fine.' He busied himself getting a couple of mugs out of the cupboard.

‘Then what is it? Spit it out.'

‘I'm being posted.'

‘Posted?' Jenna's voice reflected her opinion – she was
not
happy. ‘They can't fucking post you. We've only just got a house. They can't expect us to move out when we've only just moved in.'

Lee put a hand on her arm. ‘You can stop here – we're not going to have to move house. I'm going to Afghan.'

‘Afghan,' Jenna whispered.

‘Yeah. The lot out there – 2 Herts – are having a hard time; you've seen the news.'

Jenna nodded.

‘Well, they need a few extra guys to make up the numbers, like. And I'm the one. I'm going.'

The kettle boiled and clicked off, but they both ignored it.

‘Why you?'

‘I wasn't with 1 Herts when they did their last tour. I'm one of the few guys who's not been, which makes it my turn.'

‘But we've only just got married.'

‘That's not the army's fault.'

‘I won't let you go.'

‘Jenna, love, it's me job.'

She turned away from him and got the tea bags, chucking one into each mug, then she poured on the water. Suddenly she slammed around. ‘Why aren't you fighting this, Lee? Why aren't you telling them to go and pick someone else?' She stared at him. She held his gaze for a few seconds, then she said, ‘You want to go, don't you?'

‘Jenna, I said it before, it's me job. It's what I do.'

‘You'd rather fight the Taliban than live with me. That's it, isn't it?' Her voice wobbled.

‘Don't be daft.' He took her in his arms and gave her a cuddle. ‘And I'm not going tomorrow.'

‘When, then?'

‘After Christmas, they reckon.'

The fight seemed to go out of Jenna. ‘I suppose we've got a bit of time together before you go. And Christmas.'

‘That's the spirit, lass. We'll get me mam down from Newcastle, we'll get your mam and the rest of your family over, and we'll have a right good time.'

‘I suppose.'

Lee gave her a kiss. ‘Now, let's get that brew sorted.'

‘What's up, Seb?' asked Maddy, when Seb finally came through the door at gone seven. He looked careworn.

He gave her a kiss on the cheek as he shed his combat jacket and beret. ‘Same old, same old. How's Nate?'

‘Same old, same old,' retorted Maddy.

‘So is he in bed?'

Maddy pointed at the clock on the hall wall. ‘What do you think? Gin?' Even if Seb didn't want one, she was gagging for a drink.

‘Please. I am going to have to learn to escape from the office earlier, if I want to see him before we pack him off to boarding school.'

Maddy thought about suggesting he gave up rowing at the weekends, but knew she'd be on a hiding to nothing there. Sometimes, she thought crossly, as she sloshed gin into two glasses, she might just as well be a single mum. And if she was she wouldn't have to cope with all the army crap on top of everything else. She followed the gin with tonic and sighed. She was being unfair – again. But she turned to Seb, handed him his drink with a smile, and said, ‘Well, that's something to hope for.'

They went into the sitting room, cleared of Nate's toys and tidied ready for Seb's return, and snuggled on the sofa while they both sipped their drinks.

‘Something smells good,' said Seb.

‘Chicken in barbecue sauce and mash.'

‘Hope there's lots. I'm starving.'

When wasn't he? ‘Heaps.'

Seb lapsed into silence and looked glum again.

‘Come on, Seb, you look like you've got the world on your shoulders.'

He sighed. ‘Not really, just I had to make a tough decision today.'

Maddy waited from him to continue, but the silence stretched on. Finally she said, ‘Is it a state secret, or can you tell me?'

‘No, it's not a secret, and I expect you'll find out soon enough – the patch grapevine being what it is. It's your mate Jenna Perkins' husband.'

‘She's not my mate,' said Maddy swiftly. ‘Just because she did my hair doesn't mean we're best friends.'

Seb gave her a look which seemed to imply he didn't quite believe her, but Maddy ignored it. Least said, soonest mended and all that crap.

‘Anyway,' continued Maddy, ‘what about him?'

Seb told her what he'd done.

‘Bugger,' said Maddy quietly. ‘That's not going to go down well. Why him?'

Seb told her.

‘Even so – they've only just started married life.'

‘Shit happens, Maddy.'

‘Jenna isn't going to like it.'

‘But it isn't up to her, is it?'

No, thought Maddy. Wives just don't enter into the army equation
at all.

‘Anyway,' said Seb, ‘I've got a letter for you.'

‘Me?'

‘Think it's an invite.' He fished in a pocket in his combat jacket and pulled out a cream envelope. ‘Here you are.'

Maddy took it and ripped it open. She scanned the contents.

‘And?' said Seb.

Maddy sighed. ‘Susie wants us to go round to hers for supper.' She turned to Seb. ‘I suppose we've got to go, haven't we?'

Seb nodded. ‘When?'

‘A week Saturday. Whoopee.'

October morphed into November, Christmas trees began to appear in shop window displays in the local town, festive songs were back on radio station playlists, the weather took a turn for the worse and the annual call for volunteers to be on duty over the impending holiday was met with the same annual silence. Everyone knew that any soldier who misbehaved over the next few weeks would get awarded extra duties, which would be scheduled into the roster for the crucial period, thus neatly sparing anyone else the bother. And, consequently, the RSM had his eagle eye open to nab anyone who so much as breathed out of turn.

It was Immi who first fell foul of the RSM. It was one of those ridiculously balmy late autumn days of blue sky, full sun and no wind. The sort of day that, in spring, makes everyone think that summer is just around the corner and, at the end of the year, makes everyone rush out in shirtsleeves for one last chance to grab some rays before wanting to hibernate for months. Immi had sneaked out of the back of Battalion HQ for a crafty ciggy and was leaning against the wall of the office block, eyes shut, relishing the sun on her face.