The Songbird and the Soldier (18 page)

Andy’s stump ached. He thought about his leg and looked at it dispassionately. It had been five months since the blast. His external scars had all healed now, but there was still such a long way to go.

His gaze flickered toward the drawer where Sam’s letters lay and he drew in a calming breath. Sam was no longer important in his life. She was a part of the past. She had disappointed him, like all the others. His life had changed now. Living so closely with men who had lost much more than he, Andy was brutally aware that it could have been worse, but even so, his life would never be the same again. He was not the man he once was, in so many ways. Who in their right mind would want him now?

Andy closed his book in irritation. Concentrating had been hard for him of late. He hauled himself off his bed and into his wheelchair, but a crashing sound nearby alarmed him and suddenly he was back in the heat and dirt, under fire and afraid. The world rushed in to choke him and blood was running down his face. What was happening? Where was Miller? The pain, the pain was overwhelming, pain like he’d never experienced before. He cried out and started to shake uncontrollably. His hands went to his face and he felt the dent in the right side of his cheek. He screamed out again and a nurse was by his side. Gently calling his name, she calmed him with a cool gentle hand, easing his fears with her softly spoken words. His eyes focused in on her and he was back in Headley.

The nurse offered him a drink of water and passed him a towel to dry his face. The nurse sat and talked to him for a while until he was calm and then she left him alone. He was on his own now. That was just the way it had to be. He dragged his hands across his face and sucked in a deep breath. Get on with it. There was no room in this world for self-pity.

Later that evening, Andy wheeled himself round to spend some time with the guys. They were good for each other’s morale, he knew that. Unless you were completely determined to be miserable while you were surrounded by a load of other lads going through a similar ordeal, you were almost guaranteed to find someone who would make you grateful for the life you still had. For Andy, he always carried his motivation with him. Miller would never get his chance to rebuild his life and his wife and children had to live with that for the rest of their lives. Andy owed it to all of them to fight for every day that he had.

Christmas arrived, and apart from the activities being replaced by physically challenging games, and party hats being worn at the Christmas table, life in the military establishment continued to resemble the routine that its residents had grown accustomed to and relied upon to get through each day.

Letters arrived from family and friends bringing smiles to the faces of those they loved, but in Andy’s bed there were few smiles to be had. She had gone off with another man, like Claire had before her. He had thought Sam was so perfect. He’d thought she was his soul mate. He had longed to find her again all those years, all the time thinking of how his life would have been different if he had been with her, only to have his illusions shattered. Why? What purpose had it served? No, he must not think of her, not as anything more than an old injury. That’s all she was now, another injury he had to overcome, and overcome it he would, given time. Why she still felt the need to write to him, Andy had no idea. He wished she wouldn’t. But of course she knew nothing of his life. She was not a part of his life anymore. There was no one left to disappoint him, or let him down now. He was better on his own.

Mr and Mrs Litton’s Christmas passed more soberly than usual. Sam was a quieter, more thoughtful version of the daughter they had known before and as the New Year rolled past, Sam’s parents wished for her the happiness she seemed to have held so briefly the previous year.

The spring term was the easiest part of the year for Sam. Gone was all the fuss of Nativity and harvest festival, and reports and sports day were not yet upon her. She had time to catch up with her paperwork and get down to some really productive time spent with her class.

Kate had moved into a little house on The Patch and was busy nesting, preparing for the arrival of her baby, leaving Sam pondering on the bizarre twists in life. Less than a year since she had had the discussion about what each of them had wanted out of life, so much had changed and now they both had the opposite of what they had wanted. The only consolation to her was that at least Kate was happy with the way things had turned out.

As the spring approached, Andy learned to walk on his new foot. He built up most of the muscle that he had lost and worked hard to pull himself out of the quagmire of darkness that had threatened to engulf him. Now he was focused, a picture of capability and routine. He fixed himself targets and drove himself hard until he achieved them. His health continued to improve, as did his fitness. He was back at the barracks and making the most of the facilities available to him. His life was in order, his kit was crisp and his mind was focused on his recovery and to the outside world, all seemed well.

Sam heard that Andy had returned to barracks. He was not yet back to full capability and no one really knew if he ever would be. She was anxious not to bump into him when she went out there to visit Kate, but returned each time almost disappointed that she never actually did. Her letters continued, writing faithfully every week, bringing him her news and her thoughts, but she never had a reply.

Kate’s baby arrived, weighing in at 7lb 5oz and with a fine pair of lungs. Sam went to visit Kate in the hospital the day after she gave birth. She peeped round the corner and was beckoned in by Kate. Spike stood up and kissed his wife. “I’ll leave you two to it for a bit,” he said. “I’ll get a coffee and make a few more phone calls. Okay?” Kate smiled and nodded and he walked around her bed, gently touched the cheek of his sleeping baby and looked back at Kate fondly before walking out.

As the door closed Sam turned to Kate. “How are you? How was it?” Kate pulled a face.

“Well it ain’t no picnic,” she said and then smiled across at her newborn babe. “But she’s definitely worth it.”

Sam looked at the sleeping baby and then turned to Kate. “You’ve had a baby. You. You’ve got a little girl.” She shook her head in amazement.

Kate grinned. “I know. How mad is that? I always thought you would be the first for all this lot.” She heaved a big contented sigh. “Still, I’m sure I can get you fixed up with one of the lads. They’re a good lot, you know.”

Sam looked at her in horror. “No, thank you. What are you going to call her?” She nodded at the baby.

“Ellen. Ellen Sophia Drury.”

Sam repeated the name. “Yes, that’s a good name. Can I hold her?”

“Absolutely not. This is the longest she’s slept since she was born. I’m making the most of it.” Sam’s face fell. “You can have first squeeze when she wakes up, I promise.” Kate winked. “Go on; let me get you a guy so you can have one yourself? You’re not getting any younger, you know.”

“Thanks a lot. I’m not that old. I’m only two months older than you, remember.”

“There is one really hot guy Spike says is a decent bloke. He only arrived a couple of weeks ago. He’s single.”

“Not interested.”

“Why not? You’re not still flogging that dead horse, are you? Forget about him, Sam.”

“I can’t.”

“Has he ever written back to you?”

“No.”

“Well then?”

Sam shook her head.

“It’s just such a waste, Sam. I want to see you as happy as I am, that’s all. You’re a lovely girl, although it pains me to say it.” She grinned. “There must be loads of guys out there who would kill to go out with you, I’m certain.”

Sam shook her head again.

A door slammed further up the ward and Ellen stirred. Slowly her little dark eyes opened and Sam’s face lit up. “Go on then. You can pick her up.”

Carefully Sam scooped up the wobbly bundle into her arms and held the baby close to her. She leaned her cheek gently against baby Ellen’s soft head and melted. “Oh, she’s just beautiful, Kate. She’s perfect.” She held her back to gaze at her face and spoke in doting words to her, filled with love for the tiny child.

Spike walked back in, carrying a banana milkshake and slice of cake for his wife.

Kate gasped. “My hero,” she said. She asked Spike to find her phone from her locker and set it up to take a picture. “Get a picture of Ellen and Sam, before she starts to cry, will you, hon’?” Spike took a couple of photos and handed the phone back. “You’re a natural, Sam,” she said and Sam blushed. “Forget about him, Sam. Move on. Get yourself a good man and have some babies.” She squeezed Spike’s hand.

Ellen began to fret and Sam handed her over to her mother, who was eager to hold her again, and sat down. She could never make Kate understand how she felt about Andy. There were no words to describe it. All she knew was that she would not give up on him. She couldn’t. Not unless he told her to, and as yet she had heard nothing. But sitting there, watching Kate with her new little family, she was suddenly faced with the harsh contrast between their two worlds. Inside, she could only cry a little as the reality of her having a loving husband and child of her own seemed ever bleaker.

Andy sat in his house on The Patch, dishing up his evening meal. He ladled out some stew into a large bowl and dolloped a pile of mashed potato close by. The cutlery clanked against the bowl as he carried it over to the coffee table in front of the TV. He sat down, picked up the remote control, flicked through the channels and settled back into the armchair. He lifted up his dinner to begin to eat and the doorbell went. Irritated, he paused the TV and put down his bowl.

Tina stood before him in a brightly coloured vest top and jeans, her circlet of tattoos on display. She stubbed out her cigarette and walked in. Andy was taken aback. He turned and looked at her standing in his living room waiting for him, and closed the door. “Come on in,” he mumbled. “I was just sitting down to eat.”

Tina looked round and saw his food on the coffee table beside her. She nodded, unmoved.

Andy looked at her. “What’s up, Teen?”

Tina looked around, avoiding his gaze. “I wanted to talk to you about Sam,” she said.

“Sam? Why?”

“She’s a lovely girl, Andy. You were good together. Why can’t you give her another chance?”

Andy’s mood darkened. “I’m sorry. That’s none of your business.”

“But you were so happy. She’s good for you.”

“Stay out of it, Teen, I’m warning you.”

“Don’t be so bloody stubborn.”

“Does Dave know you’re round here doing this?” Andy asked.

“What’s that got to do with it?” Tina countered.

“As I thought. Teen, do me a favour, keep your nose out and let me get on with my life my way.”

“But this isn’t a life. This-”, she gestured at his clinically organised, Spartan house, “is existing. Christ, you were a different guy last summer, so full of life. You were actually fun.”

“Well, being blown up and spending months in a hospital can do that to a guy.”

Tina was duly humbled, for a moment at least. “It sucks, I know, and I’m sorry, we all are, but you’ve got to move on, you know?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Andy was starting to lose his rag with her.

“I know she screwed up. She knows it. But she loves you, Andy. Lord knows why.”

“I think you’d better leave.” He held out his arm toward the door and stared her down.

Tina stayed where she was for a second and then walked up to him and lowered her voice. “She’s a lovely girl, Andy, but she won’t wait forever. She fucked up. She gets it. But you’ll lose her for good if you don’t do something about it soon.” She paused for a second, while Andy stood his ground, his jaw clenched hard.

“That already happened. Or did you miss it?”

“Dean? But that was over months ago. As soon as she found out the truth.”

Andy hadn’t been aware of this, and the realisation smarted.

“You should see her, Andy. She’s changed. Hell, half the regiment was after her at Spike and Kate’s do. And she just smiled sweetly at them all and walked away.”

Andy looked away.

“She wouldn’t have any of them.”

He looked back.

“She wants you. Think on it, Andy,” she said, walking past him and out of the front door.

The door closed and Andy remained where he stood. Who was she to go raking up the past and blaming him? Sam was the one who had walked away. He took a deep breath and let it out. His eyes closed. Move on, he thought. He looked down at his dinner and found he had lost his appetite, so he walked out to the kitchen, put his bowl on the side and grabbed a beer from the fridge.

As his head tipped back to swig the beer, he caught a glimpse of the pile of letter on the side. They were high up on the top of his bookcase, pinned under a heavy crystal decanter, half filled with whiskey and gathering dust. He paused for a second with the bottle in his mouth and then took the swig. Bloody women, he thought.

Easter arrived and Sam was weary. She had been writing to Andy every week for five long months with no reply. She had finally come to the conclusion that she had lost. Andy obviously wanted nothing more to do with her and for her fault in that, she could only apologise so many times. She penned one last letter to him, a farewell, and then with a heavy heart, she posted it and sadly whispered goodbye.

On Easter weekend, Sam’s dad drove round to collect her and Humphrey to spend a few days at home. Sam was feeling tired out and had happily accepted the offer of a few days of mothering.

Mrs Litton poured Sam a nice hot bath and unpacked her things into her old room, complete once again with her old bed. Then she took Humphrey down into the living room and tried to settle him down in his basket, but he appeared to be clingier than ever.

When Sam was out of the bath and into her pyjamas and fluffy socks, her mum sat her down in the living room with a cup of tea.

“You’ve been working too hard, Sam,” her mum said. “You can’t go on like this. There’ll be nothing left of you.”