Soldier's Daughters (8 page)

Michelle stared around the anteroom of the officers’ mess at Pirbright. Honestly, she thought, there were probably morgues with more life in them. The silence was oppressive. Even the faint chink of teaspoons in post-lunch cups of coffee, or the rustle of newspapers, seemed intrusive and loud. Sandhurst had been full of life and chatter and laughter, and the mess at Winchester, where she’d done her junior officers’ course, had been fun and lively, but this…

She got up and left the room. As she reached the door she noticed that no one had looked up from their paper. Perversely, she wanted to do something loud and disruptive; strip off her uniform top, or shout
Long live the revolution
, or dance on a table. That’d shake up the place. But instead she went to her room, switched on Radio 1 and turned the volume up as loud as she dared. The more senior officers lived on the floor above and they complained and handed out extras at the least excuse – as Michelle had already discovered.

Two years of this, she thought. How was she going to bear it? She felt insanely envious of Sam and her posting to an infantry regiment. All those hunky young subalterns to knock around with. And what did she have here? A whole heap of passed-over majors, time-serving till their pensions kicked in, with no sense of humour, who found endless fault in the junior officers who were, themselves, cowed into submission.

She flopped onto her bed and stared at the ceiling. Surely there had to be more to life that what she had right now? Surely there had to be some way of shaking up this joint? Maybe she’d ring Sam and see if she fancied coming down to Surrey and helping her do a bit of hell-raising. It seemed to Michelle that all her contemporaries in the mess were so wet they needed to be wrung out – or was that just because all the old fogeys had made them that way? She pulled her phone out of her pocket and pressed the buttons to get Sam.

‘Hiya, hon,’ she said when Sam picked up. ‘I can’t tell you how envious of you I am right now.’

‘Of me?’ replied Sam.

‘Of course. It’s beyond dreary here, the job sucks, the pressure is insane, the mess is dead and at weekends it’s empty. So, come on, tell me, what are all those fit young men like?’

A heavy sigh breezed over the airwaves. ‘I don’t know. They barely talk to me.’

‘You what?’

‘You heard. I’ve kind of given up and I spend half my free time in my room. Over and above that my ASM hates me and I’m beginning to have real doubts as to whether I’m cut out for this.’

‘No-o-o… but you’re the perfect officer. Shit, if anyone is destined to whoosh up the ranks it’s you. Why the self-doubt?’

‘I dunno. Maybe it’s just a bad patch. Maybe I need to man up, get used to it.’ There was another sigh.

‘That’s it, then, we need to get together. You need to get your butt down to Surrey. We need to have a weekend on the lash, go clubbing, experience hangovers again, what do you say?’

‘God, yes, Michelle. Yes! When?’

‘Well, not this weekend, I’m on duty, but maybe one soon.’

‘You got spammed for a weekend duty early. You’ve only just arrived there.’

‘Sort of. I picked up an extra or two.’

‘Michelle!’

‘I was late on parade. My alarm didn’t go off.’

‘Oh, Michelle. You are a numpty.’

‘Never mind. I’ll ring next week. We can firm up some proper plans.’

‘Brilliant.’

‘Hello, Sam.’

Sam put down the copy of
The Times
she was reading while enjoying a quiet post-work cup of tea in the mess anteroom. As she looked up she saw James Rosser, one of the platoon commanders of 1 Herts. ‘Hello, James.’

‘Mind if I join you?’

Sam glanced around the anteroom of the mess. The groups of armchairs gathered around low coffee tables were mostly unoccupied. There were a couple of the other platoon commanders across the room, reading the papers, but the majority of the livers-in had already downed a swift cuppa and shot off to their rooms to grab a bag, before racing off for the weekend. The mess this weekend, like the last one, was going to be very quiet.

‘Please do,’ she said. ‘But don’t feel you have to keep me company if you’ve got something you’d rather do.’ She quite liked James. He seemed very old-fashioned, which was faintly endearing, and even more endearing, in Sam’s opinion, was his distinct resemblance to a young Hugh Grant, complete with floppy fringe, smiley blue eyes and slightly diffident and shy manner.

James gave her a lopsided grin and put his own cup of tea down on the table before he slumped into the chair opposite her. ‘Like my laundry, you mean?’

‘Hey, for all I know, you might think that ironing is the best fun you can have with your clothes on.’

‘As long as you don’t iron your clothes while you are wearing them.’

‘Ouch, no. As the battalion health and safety officer I would have to advise against that.’

‘You’re all right, that’s not something I indulge in.’ James took a gulp of tea. ‘You going away for the weekend?’

Sam shook her head. ‘Nope. You?’

‘Duty officer.’

‘Ah, hard luck.’

‘Only for tonight. I’m free tomorrow.’

‘That’s nice.’ Sam picked up the paper, folded it and put it on the table in front of her.

‘Sorry,’ said James. ‘I’m disturbing you. You were perfectly happily reading the paper and I come along and interrupt you.’

‘No, honestly. I was only glancing at it for want of anything better to do. Really.’ She paused. ‘Do you think anyone would mind if I nicked it and took it to my room?’

‘
The Times
? You’re joking, aren’t you?’ He called across the room to their fellow officers. ‘Hey, Will, Ben, either of you want to fight Sam for
The Times
?’

Will waved his copy of the
Sun
. ‘Not enough pictures for my taste.’

Ben laughed. ‘I’m with Will.’

‘There you go,’ said James. ‘The paper is yours.’

‘Good.’

‘So, you going to spend the evening in your room – like you usually do?’

Sam shrugged.

‘We don’t bite, you know,’ said James.

Sam looked at her lap. ‘I don’t know… I feel a bit of an interloper. You guys all know each other so well.’

‘Well, you won’t get to know us by avoiding us.’

‘No.’

‘I mean, when you did your platoon commander’s course you must have been in a minority.’

‘Yes, but that was different.’

‘How come?’

Sam thought about it. ‘I don’t know, it just was. I think the REME are more used to having women around.’

James laughed. ‘Frankly, there are monasteries more used to having women around than some infantry regiments.’

Sam laughed.

‘Well, how about you don’t disappear tonight after supper?’ said James. ‘Stay and keep me company. I expect Will and Ben’ll bugger off to a pub or something so I’ll be on my tod. I’d appreciate the company. Come on – take a chance.’

Sam smiled. ‘OK, why not. That’d be nice.’ And she realised it would be. Maybe it was time to try and integrate a little more.

Maddy put down her toast and marmalade. ‘Seb, darling, could you look after Nathan for a couple of hours this afternoon?’

Seb sighed, and lowered the paper. ‘Why?’

Because he’s your son, thought Maddy. ‘Because I want to see if I can get my hair done. I need a cut, badly.’

‘Does it have to be today?’

‘Why? Have you got plans?’

‘But it’s Saturday,’ said Seb. ‘I’ve been working my socks off all week. Aren’t I entitled to a day off?’

And I’m not, thought Maddy. Obviously housework and childcare don’t count as work. No, she told herself, she was being unfair. She worked nothing like as hard as Seb but she was only asking for a couple of hours of his time. She said as much.

‘I was going to go to the gym to do some training. I’ve not had the chance to get a proper workout all week.’

‘You’re not planning on working out all day, though, are you? Can’t you go this morning?’

‘I suppose. Have you actually made an appointment?’

‘Not yet. I was going to ring up on spec.’

‘So, you could get it cut next week.’

‘Yes, I could, but then I’d have to beg a favour from Susie or pay for childminding.’ Maddy felt exasperated. Was it so much to ask Seb to look after his own son for a few hours? Honestly, it would be easier to get blood out of a stone.

‘All right, then,’ said Seb, grudgingly.

‘Good,’ said Maddy. She bounced out of the kitchen to find her mobile and ring Jenna before Seb could have second thoughts. And she wasn’t going to tell Seb who she was making an appointment with. She could imagine the row if he found out.

Sam wandered into the mess dining room, grabbed a paper, which she tucked under her arm, before she poured herself a glass of orange juice and a cup of tea and carried all three over to the huge wide, mahogany dining table. A mess waiter appeared from behind the kitchen door.

‘Cooked breakfast, ma’am?’

‘Mmm, please. Poached egg, bacon and tomato and some brown toast.’

‘Certainly, ma’am.’

‘Hello, Sam.’ James bounced in looking remarkably chipper.

‘Quiet duty?’

‘Mostly. There was a bit of a ruckus down at the soldiers’ bar after you went to bed – but that’s hardly unexpected on a Friday night, it was nothing the regimental police and the duty sergeant couldn’t handle. I almost got my full quota of beauty sleep.’

‘Glad to hear it.’

James grinned as he too got tea and orange and brought it over to the table. ‘Are you implying I need as much as I can get?’

Sam shrugged and smiled back. ‘If the cap fits.’

The mess waiter reappeared and took James’s breakfast order. Once he’d asked for a full English ‘with mushrooms if there are any’ he turned back to Sam.

‘What are your plans today?’

‘Nothing much. I think the main excitement might consist of trying to make an appointment to get my hair cut.’

‘Blimey, life in the fast lane.’

Sam nodded. ‘Oh, yes.’

‘Look, yesterday Ben and Will and I made some vague plans about high-tailing it off to the seaside for the day; the forecast is brilliant. Just a drive down to Bournemouth or somewhere like that, a walk along the beach, a fish and chip lunch or maybe a pie and a pint and then back here for tea and medals. How about you join us?’

‘You don’t want me along. I’d only cramp your style.’

‘In what way? We’re only going to the seaside. We’re not planning on trying our hand at world domination or anything like that.’

Sam laughed. ‘OK, but only if you think the others won’t mind. And as long as you all promise not to get silly and chivalrous and not let me pay my way.’

‘I can only speak for myself but if the other two have bank balances anything like mine you will be perfectly safe in that department.’

‘Then it’s a deal.’

‘Right, the plan is to meet at ten o’clock in the anteroom.’

Sam’s breakfast arrived and she tucked in with gusto, feeling ridiculously pleased at the prospect of the day ahead. After she’d finished, she returned to her room to ring Sergeant Armstrong’s partner to make an appointment for the next weekend, sort her kit out for the following week before meeting the others at the agreed time.

‘All set?’ said James.

‘Certainly am. Seaside here we come!’

What with the sunshine and the roof of James’s Audi being down, the four young officers were slightly wind- and sunburned by the time they arrived at the Dorset coast. They were also happy and laughing and at ease with each other.

‘This is grand,’ said James, as he hauled on the handbrake in a parking spot, right by the beach. ‘A day by the sea and the sun is shining.’

Sam got out of the car and stretched. She sniffed the air, savouring the smell of seaweed and ozone. ‘I do love the sea.’

Will and Ben, who had insisted that Sam, despite being the smallest of the four, had ridden in the front seat, uncurled themselves from the rear of the car and eased their shoulders. ‘That’s better,’ said Ben. He walked round to the boot and opened it. He reached in and brought out a couple of travelling rugs and a football.

‘Let’s hit the beach,’ he said, and chucked the ball to Will, who caught it neatly and then bounced it several times as they waited for James to lock up his vehicle.

‘Oh, the sea,’ said James. ‘It brings out the kid in me. Makes me want to dig holes, build sandcastles and paddle.’

‘Well, what are we waiting for?’ said Sam. She ran down the beach to the water’s edge, where she hopped on first one foot then the other as she pulled off her trainers and socks, abandoning them any old where as she dashed into the water, sending up a spray of water droplets that caught the sun and turned into an instant, ephemeral rainbow.

Ben and Will spread out the rugs and then began to have a kick-about with the ball while James stood by the water and watched Sam.

‘Come on, slowcoach,’ she yelled at him over the subdued thump of the small waves that broke rhythmically on the shore.

‘Too cold. Don’t want to get my trousers wet,’ he said as a larger wave broke, and surged threateningly towards him.

Sam had no such inhibitions and her jeans were soaked from the knees down. She made her way back out of the water.

‘Stick-in-the-mud,’ she said.

She gathered up her shoes and socks and wandered back up the pebbly sand to the rugs, where she sat down and brushed off as much sand as she could and dried her feet on her socks before slipping them into her trainers.

‘Ooh, gritty feet,’ she complained.

‘Well if you will get as wet as that with no change of clothes…’ said James.

‘You sound like a mother.’

‘Really? What’s she like – your mother?’

‘I never knew her.’

‘Shit, I am so sorry.’

So Sam told James about her odd upbringing, the endless moves, some of the places they lived, being sent off to boarding school at an early age and all the rest of the baggage that went with being a soldier’s daughter.

‘Still, it taught me to be independent,’ she said as she finished.

‘You don’t sound as if you enjoyed it much.’

‘It’s difficult to judge, isn’t it? I mean, it’s the only childhood I know about.’