Soldier's Daughters (20 page)

‘It’s tricky.’

Sam’s eyes widened. ‘Tricky? Of course it’s fucking tricky. You’ve been playing fast and loose with my mate’s emotions, to say nothing about cheating on your wife. Your pregnant wife and the mother of your son.’ She paused and watched Seb squirm, visibly. ‘Why?’

‘I dunno.’ Then he seemed to rally. ‘Anyway, I wouldn’t have fallen for Michelle if she hadn’t led me on.’

‘Really?’ hissed Sam. ‘So, while Michelle was leading you on, you didn’t think to mention to her that you were married? You didn’t think to let her in on that little fact, so she could back away from a relationship that was bound to end in tears?’

Seb looked down at his desk.

‘No, you didn’t, did you?’ said Sam, answering the question for him, her eyes narrowed in contempt. ‘And why would you? There you were, away from home, off the leash, and a lovely girl tells you she’s available and you think that what happens at the rowing lake will stay at the rowing lake. Maddy will never find out, you can have a free shag and no harm done. Except it wasn’t the one shag, was it? As far as I can tell, you and Michelle have been at it like rattlesnakes almost every weekend.’ She stared at Seb. ‘And I bet my bottom dollar that half of those rowing weekends were nothing of the sort.’ She looked at the expression on Seb’s face. ‘No, I thought not. How could you?’ she spat.

‘Are you going to tell Maddy?’ He looked genuinely terrified. ‘Because I’ve already decided I won’t cheat on her again. Ever.’

‘Seb, it isn’t up to me whether or not to tell her – not that I would anyway.’ She wondered if this was the moment to tell him that while she might not, he oughtn’t to bank on Michelle behaving in the same way. Maybe she’d wait and see what Seb planned to do himself. ‘But you have got to sort this out, and soon. I’ve got Michelle crying down the phone to me every evening because she doesn’t know where she stands, and you’re not talking to her, which is hardly helping matters. Have you any idea how upset and hurt she is?’ She raised an eyebrow at Seb. ‘And what if Maddy finds out? Just because you and I aren’t going to tell her it doesn’t mean someone else won’t.’ Impossible though it seemed, Seb’s face went even whiter.

‘Michelle?’ mouthed Seb.

Sam shrugged. ‘Seb, she’s hurting, really hurting. Maybe you ought to know she’s not good when she’s got a broken heart; she’s not rational.’

Seb’s jaw slackened.

‘Even if she doesn’t spill the beans or try and doorstep you, the army’s really close-knit. It seems to me that everyone knows everyone and word may well get back to Maddy. Listen, I honestly don’t know what to suggest for the best but you have got to talk to Michelle. You’ve got to beg her forgiveness, you’ve got to grovel if that’s what it takes, you’ve got to make her see sense and then you’ve got to end it – gently. Very gently.’

Seb looked at his desk. ‘I’ll ring her,’ he mumbled.

‘Ring her? God, you really are a wimp. You will not ring her, you will not text her, you will not drop her a sodding line, you will talk to her. Face to face.’ Sam glared at Seb till he dropped his gaze.

Seb swallowed. ‘Why?’

‘Because she doesn’t deserve anything less and I won’t be responsible for the consequences if you try and dump her by text or phone.’ Sam glowered at Seb. ‘You thought it was a free, no-strings shag, didn’t you? Well, you were wrong and unless you want it to get completely out of hand, you’d better square things with Michelle properly, and soon.’

‘You don’t really think she’d do anything, do you?’

Sam shook her head. ‘Seb, I’d like to say no but I can’t. She’s got previous. On top of that I think she’s been looking for love since her mother pissed off when she was little, and it’s my guess she thought she’d found it with you. This is why you’ve got to be really gentle with her.’

Seb shook his head. ‘Just my luck,’ he snapped. ‘I step out of line once in my life and I pick a basket-case.’

Sam leaned forward again, her eyes narrowed again. ‘No one but yourself to blame there. No one made you have an affair, no one told you to lie to both Maddy and Michelle. Did they?’

Seb shrugged. ‘I suppose.’

‘You suppose?’ Sam’s voice was half an octave higher than normal with indignation. ‘For fuck’s sake, Seb, you’ve got to take responsibility and do the right thing.’

His face was set as he nodded. ‘I’ll make arrangements to see her at the weekend.’ He glared at Sam. ‘Happy now?’

‘I will be, when you’ve done it.’ She gave Seb a salute and stamped out.

Seb sank back into his swivel chair and stared at the computer keyboard on his desk. What a shitting-awful mess. He flashed back to the moment, on Sunday, when he’d seen Michelle on his doorstep and he’d felt his world slide from beneath his feet. The dreadful feeling of nausea that he’d experienced then – that stomach lurch that he got in occasional, ghastly, falling nightmares – came right back again and he shut his eyes till it passed.

The worst of it was, Sam was right. Smug little minx. But even as that description entered his head he knew he was being unfair; she wasn’t smug, she wasn’t a minx and she hadn’t told him anything that he didn’t know, deep down, himself. The trouble was, the truths she’d told him were exactly the ones he’d been ignoring, and hearing them voiced by a third party had been heart-stoppingly shocking. His hands were shaking, he noticed, and he wondered vaguely if it was the result of having his fortune read to him by Sam or his worry about Michelle’s reaction when he broke it off with her.

He pulled his mobile out of his pocket and toyed with the idea of disobeying Sam and dumping Michelle by call or text. He even began to draft a text but then he deleted it. What Sam had said about Michelle scared him shitless. And the worst of it was, she knew where he lived. He didn’t think she’d do something utterly appalling, like tell Maddy, but he couldn’t risk it.

Instead he lifted the receiver of the land line on his desk, dialled the number for the Aldershot garrison mess and booked a room there for the Friday night. Then he picked up his mobile and texted Michelle, asking her to meet him there.

‘We need to talk,’ the text finished.

He slumped back his office chair and idly swivelled it from side to side while he considered exactly what he ought to say to Michelle. One thing was for certain, it wasn’t going to be pleasant and once again the phrase ‘bunny-boiler’ swooshed through his mind. He closed his eyes and wished for the umpteenth time since that lunch party that he’d never, ever got involved with Michelle.

His phone pinged. A text.

Cant w8. Love you. M.

And it was M for Michelle – not Maddy.

He deleted the message and pressed the buttons to call home.

‘Hiya, Mads.’

‘Hi, hon.’

‘Have we got any plans for the weekend?’

‘Nothing much. Why?’

‘Something rowing related has come up. I’m going to have to be away in Aldershot on Friday night.’

‘Oh, Seb.’ He heard his wife sigh. ‘Well, I suppose it can’t be helped.’

‘Sorry, sweetie.’

‘What time do you think you’ll be back on Saturday?’

Seb thought quickly. The real reason for his trip meant he’d be free to leave directly after breakfast; in fact, he’d be free to leave Friday evening, as soon as he’d given Michelle the bad news, but that wouldn’t stack up with the excuse for his absence. ‘Erm, not sure. I should be free some time after lunch on Saturday, home by tea-time at the latest, I hope.’

‘Rats.’

‘What’s the matter?’

‘Nothing really; only an appointment to get my hair cut.’

‘Again?’

‘Seb, it’ll be Christmas in no time and then you’re off to Kenya. This is my last chance. It’ll be months before I’ll be able to go and get it done again without involving childminders.’

‘Sorry, hon.’

He heard a sigh. ‘No, don’t worry. It’s not your fault. I’ll sort something out. Anyway, I must dash. I’ll see you at lunchtime. Bye.’

‘Bye,’ said Seb.

He chucked his mobile on the desk and pulled his in-tray towards him. But his concentration was shot and although he stared at the work he had to do, all he could think about was the unholy mess his life was in.

Colonel Notley put his head round the door of his adjutant’s office and said, ‘Can I have a minute of your time, Andy?’

‘Sure, Colonel.’

Andy leapt to his feet and grabbed his notepad and his desk diary and followed the CO back into his office.

The CO waved at the chair in front of his desk.

‘It’s about Kenya.’

‘Right, Colonel.’

‘I’ve had a phone call from the PR department at the MOD.’

‘And…?’

‘And they want to embed a hack from the Beeb with us.’

Andy’s shoulders sagged. This was all they needed. Reporters, he knew from past experience, generally meant a whole heap of work for all concerned as they invariably needed looking after, and if anything went wrong – and on an exercise of the scale of Askari Thunder it was almost a given that something would – it was also a given that the reporter would want to ask questions, possibly awkward ones. ‘Who?’

‘Jack Raven,’ said the CO.

Andy felt even more despondent. Not any old hack but one of the BBC’s best-known reporters who had come to the fore as a result of the Syria crisis and who now seemed to be the go-to man on all matters to do with the military, and was, apparently, the nation’s favourite defence correspondent. Andy was pretty certain it was the man’s film-star good looks which had got him his rating in the popularity stakes and disliked him irrationally as a result. The fact that his wife, Gilly, went all doe-eyed and gooey whenever his smarmy features appeared on the TV screen – an almost nightly occurrence – didn’t help things much either. Andy’s thoughts must have been reflected on his face.

‘Do I gather you aren’t one of his greatest fans either?’ said the colonel, his eyebrow lifting a smidge in amusement.

‘Not really, if I’m honest,’ admitted Andy.

The CO sighed. ‘Well, it doesn’t matter about our opinion, we’re going to be saddled with him and I really can’t think who the hell I can spare to babysit him.’

Andy scratched his head. ‘I’ll give it some thought. Someone non-essential, personable and articulate. The trouble is that doesn’t generally describe infantry soldiers.’

‘Well,’ said the CO, ‘plenty of my officers and senior ranks are all personable and articulate but they are all essential. I refuse to waste someone of that calibre nannying Raven just to make sure he doesn’t trip over his own feet. Anyway, we don’t have to think about that yet but if you come up with an idea, let me know.’

‘He’s texted me,’ said Michelle as soon as Sam answered her mobile.

Sam had no need to ask who had texted her friend.

‘He wants me to meet him on Friday. He wants to talk.’ Michelle sounded ridiculously excited. ‘I know that means he’s come to his senses and he’s decided which one of us he wants. Oh, Sam, I know he’s made the right decision.’

Sam’s heart nose-dived into her ankles. How could she tell her best friend that this meeting with the love of her life was, almost certainly, going to be her last one?

‘You think?’ she asked carefully.

‘Of course. He’s finally realised that he doesn’t love Maddy, because he wants me,’ said Michelle, blithely.

‘You sure?’

‘Duh. You saw her, she’s a mouse. I expect Seb only dated her out of pity and she probably got pregnant deliberately to snare him.’

‘You don’t know that.’

A sigh blew down the line. ‘Whatevs, Sam. You think you’re talking to someone who cares and I suppose I should feel a bit sorry for her but, honestly, I know he’s got the wrong woman in his life and now he’s realised it.’

He’s not the only one who needs to come to terms with reality, thought Sam. ‘Ring me Saturday and let me know how it goes. I’m at a party on Friday so I doubt if I’ll pick up any calls. It’s at the corporals’ club so it’ll probably be a bit raucous.’

‘The corporals’ club?’

‘The OiC has invited me. James – remember him?’

‘Sort of. I met loads of people last weekend.’

Sam rolled her eyes. No, of course her friend wouldn’t remember him; at first she’d been to wrapped up in her own lovey-dovey situation to notice any of Sam’s new friends, and then on Sunday she’d been too shell-shocked at discovering Seb’s marital status to pay any attention to anything outside her own bubble of misery. ‘Never mind,’ said Sam. ‘It’s not important.’

‘Anyway, I’ll ring you Saturday,’ promised Michelle.

‘Good,’ said Sam, already dreading the call.

‘Jenna?’

‘Hi, Maddy, what can I do for you?’

‘Jenna, I’m going to have to cancel,’ said Maddy as she stirred some soup made out of leftover chicken.

‘Oh, that’s a shame. Do you want to reschedule?’

‘Jenna, I don’t know if I can. It’s finding someone to dump Nate on. I’d hoped Seb was going to be around this weekend but suddenly there’s more rowing… I’d ask Susie but she’s going to be up to her eyes next week what with the twins coming home and everything and then we’re off on Christmas block leave.’ She sighed. ‘Never mind, it’s only a trim.’

‘I suppose… I suppose I could come to yours. Then Nathan has got all his toys and if he needs a nap he’s got his own bed.’

Maddy felt a bit overwhelmed by the offer. Jenna had made it plain that because of her dodgy past and previous involvement with 1 Herts, she didn’t want to come near the patch. ‘But, you said—’

‘I know what I said. But it’s only the once and if neither of us draws attention to my visit…’

‘As if I would.’

‘Exactly. I mean, I know that the old bats on the patch are a nosy bunch but I should be able to slip through the cordon without setting off alarms.’

Maddy laughed. ‘Hey, remember I’m one of the old bats.’

‘No, you’re not,’ said Jenna. ‘You were the one who was nice to me. I haven’t forgotten that.’

Maddy felt a little twinge of British embarrassment at the compliment. ‘OK. Then I’ll see you at ten on Saturday.’

‘At ten.’

There was a quiet knock on Sam’s door.

‘Come in,’ she called. She was sitting on the chair in front of her dressing table, putting the finishing touches to her make-up before the corporals’ club party. In the mirror she saw James stick his head around her door.