The Songbird and the Soldier (7 page)

Andy breathed deeply to calm his nerves. One more day, he thought, one more day. If he could make it through unscathed back to Kandahar, he was home and dry. He wondered if he could shave another day off his parents’ visit. He would certainly try. Seven days was a lot to ask when there was a beautiful woman waiting for him back home. Maybe he could get away with five? It was time enough to get some scoff down him and get his clothes properly clean. He would, of course, have to sit through the usual round of ‘we’re glad you’re back safe’ from his dad, with heavy undertones of ‘but wouldn’t you have had a better time if you had gone over as an officer?’ His father, he had learned across the years, had always been a disappointment to Andy’s grandfather, a Lieutenant Colonel - who had received the Military Medal, don’t you know - failing twice to even get in. So he knew a lot about how to make someone feel worthless.

Andy’s older brother had been protected from the pressures of living up to his father’s expectations and had got out early. Simon was now earning megabucks in the city and certainly seemed to be the ‘golden boy’ in his parents’ eyes.

Still, he would do his duty and check in for a while. But Sam would be waiting for him. For him. He should catch up on his sleep while he was at home, because sleep would be the furthest thing from his mind when he reached Sam.

He wrote back a quick note, wondering who would get there first: the letter, or him?

Ten more days, Sam thought as she cycled into work. That meant five kid-free days with the shops open. Her dress was a little crumpled that morning, the iron being of low importance when unpacking the day before. There were bags under her eyes from the sleepless nights of worry: first with the move and then and perhaps more terrifyingly, with the impending arrival of Andy.

On several occasions throughout the day, Sam lost her train of thought and had to be reminded by one of the children, Jimmy being the most outspoken of the kids to come to her rescue. ‘Miss Litton, are you dead?’ was not a question she got asked on a regular basis.

On the days that followed, Sam started to make her house look more like a home. On Friday night she finished school and began making a list of everything that had to be done before Andy’s arrival the following week. The hairdresser’s was booked. Everything had to be waxed and as soon as possible - no pain, no gain. Fresh clean bedding was a little presumptuous, but… just in case. What was she thinking? This was going to be a first date. She shouldn’t even be thinking about going that far yet; she didn’t want Andy to think she was cheap. But was it actually a first date? And how far was too far when you had been conversing in letters for some time? She wished she knew the rules for something like this.

Sam arranged a night out with Kate and Chloe the night before he was due to arrive, for moral support. It was their night to be at the Crown anyway, so she had been pretty sure they would turn up. A new outfit for confidence and some new underwear, just in case, and last but not least she needed to get some good food in.

The nerves began to rise as she picked up her newly connected phone and rang Kate, eager for some reassurance. Kate answered and knew exactly the right words to put her friend at ease. It was a strange thing, the friendship between the two. They were different in so many ways, but they had always been there for each other. Most people struggled to understand why the two of them had remained friends for so long. They just had, and that was all they knew.

“It’ll be your turn soon,” Sam told her.

“I know. But if you think you’re going to catch me worrying my arse off about what’s going to happen when he gets here you’ve got another thing coming. I know exactly what we’ll be up to. And so does he.”

“Kate!”

“Don’t tell me you won’t be at it too.”

“I have no intention of-”

“Have you booked in at the beauticians?” Kate butted in.

“Nnnooo.”

“That means you haven’t but you’re going to do it yourself, Sam Litton, so don’t you come all high and mighty with me you… tramp!”

Sam gasped.

Kate chuckled. “Well I for one intend to shag the poor boy’s brains out. You’ve seen the picture of his body. One word: Yum.”

“Oh you’re incorrigible. How’s Chloe doing with her guy, do you know?”

“No, I don’t. We’ll have to grill her on Thursday.”

On Saturday morning Sam was a woman on a mission. She was out to find a new outfit to brighten herself up and some nice underwear in case things went well. By lunchtime she felt as if she must have looked around every shop, boutique and stall in town and still she had nothing to show for herself. On the underwear front, things had been a trifle easier: not too plain, not too tarty. It was a fine balance, but Sam was optimistic that she had got it right. Originally she had been aiming for just one set, but apprehensive of her ability to know when to wear it she decided that in this case more was definitely better. Holey faded knickers had no place in her life come next Friday.

Sunday morning was given over to beautification. Sam waxed and preened to within an inch of her life and then she cycled round to her parents for Sunday lunch and a nice calming walk. It was at this point she realised something else needed to be added to her list: she needed to keep her parents at bay. So she warned them that she would be incredibly busy with school reports and various other bits of paperwork she had neglected to do of late, so she’d have to see them again in a fortnight and neither her mum nor her dad turned a hair at this. Job done, she thought. Tick.

When she got back, Sam put on some Will Young and walked over to Andy’s picture. He smiled back at her. But then the nerves began to kick in again. Just imagine if the worst did happen and he didn’t like her, or they just didn’t click, or worse still, if she didn’t take to him? What would she do? She couldn’t just say, ‘sorry this just isn’t working out for me,’ and chuck him out, sending him back off to war. No, no, it had to work, that was all there was to it.

On Monday morning, Sam began to clean. Everything that wasn’t hung up or nailed down was hauled along to the laundrette that day. Embarrassing nostalgia was hidden away and in between running clothes and bedding to and from the washing line, Sam did what she could to her little garden with the tools her dad had given to her to start out.

On Tuesday, Sam treated herself to an hour of pampering at the hairdresser’s, and by the time she left she was feeling far more confident. It had been an expense that she wouldn’t usually allow herself, but on this occasion she felt it was totally justified.

Wednesday was supposed to be the day set aside for filling her house with scrumptious food to feed her hungry soldier, but that had had to be put off until the afternoon, to allow Sam to pop back into town and search for that elusive new outfit. She braced herself for a second day of disappointment, but then came her break. The French market was set up in town and in it was a clothing stall for women. Sam hurried over and rummaged through the rails excitedly. Amazingly there were two dresses she liked, both in her size, one yellow and one red. She pulled them both out and wandered around looking for a mirror. She held them up and gazed at herself. While she was deep in thought, a woman walked over and stood behind her. “I think the gentleman would prefer mademoiselle in the red, non?” she said.

“The red?” Sam asked. “Yes. I think you might be right?”

“Absolutement.”

Sam studied herself again. “Okay,” she said, quickly glancing at the price label, “I’ll take it. Thank you.” Sam paid the lady for the dress and folded it carefully into her backpack. Then she scooted off home, ravenously hungry, as with all the excitement she had forgotten to eat any breakfast.

Pulling up outside her house, Sam noticed there was someone sitting on her doorstep. It was a man. She stopped the bike at the gate and got off, removing her helmet before she spoke. The man stood up and smiled and she realised who it was and was struck dumb.

“Hello, Sam.”

Sam’s heart almost exploded, it was hammering so hard in her chest. Her hands began to tremble and her mouth went dry. “You… you’re early.”

“Yes,” he said.

“You weren’t meant to be here until Friday. I’m not ready.”

“Oh, sorry. I just thought… It was stupid. I’m sorry, I’ll leave.”

Sam’s brain had stopped. She had no idea what to say to make things right. It was as if her brain was screaming inside her head, but nothing intelligible was coming out, so she said nothing, just continued to stare at him.

Andy picked up his rucksack and started to leave.

“No! No. It’s all right. Stay, please.” Sam stepped closer, her hands out to block his exit. “I just wasn’t expecting you, that’s all.” She stepped past him towards the door and fumbled for the keys in her pocket. His body was only inches away from hers. She stepped inside and was greeted by an enthusiastic Humphrey. He yapped and jumped up at her, pleased to see her back, but Andy paused on the doorstep. “Come on in, please. I’m sorry, I must seem so rude. Don’t mind Humph.”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather I left? I can come back on Friday if you prefer, or…”

“Stay,” Sam said.

Andy held her gaze for a moment and then looked about him for somewhere to set down his things.

“Here, let me.” Sam’s body froze as in trying to help him with his bag, his arm brushed against hers. She breathed deeply and tried to hold on to her composure. Humphrey gave Andy a bit of a sniff and Andy patted him fondly, then Humphrey trotted back over to be with Sam. Sam showed Andy where to set his bag down, in an alcove under the stairs and walked across the kitchen. Busy, busy, busy, she thought. If she could keep herself occupied she might just get through this. The attraction on her side was no longer in any doubt at all. She was in bits around him already and he hadn’t even touched her yet. But he was so calm and relaxed. Sam wondered if he was feeling anything approaching the level of nerves that she was suffering. “Coffee? Tea?” she asked.

“Er, tea, please.” Andy stood leaning against the kitchen doorframe looking in and watching her as she clunked and clattered about nervously. He was taller than she remembered and his eyes seemed fathomless as they gazed at her. She couldn’t look back, her nerves wouldn’t let her. He was out of her league and probably far better than she deserved.

“Were you waiting long?” she asked.

“About an hour,” he said.

“An hour? I’m so sorry. If I’d known I’d–”

“It’s fine. It’s a nice day. I didn’t mind.”

“God, I’ve just realised, I haven’t got any food in the house to feed you. I was going to do that this afternoon, but–”

“I turned up unannounced. Sorry. If it helps, I’m not hungry.”

“I might have a biscuit around here somewhere.” Sam began to search high and low for something, anything to feed to Andy.

He watched her from the doorway.

“I’ve got some digestives.” She looked around. “There’s bread. I could make you a toasted sandwich, you’ve gotta love a Breville. Or a butty? I must have some bacon in here somewhere.” Sam looked in the fridge and then opened and closed two more cupboards. “What about some…”

Andy moved inside and settled a hand on her arm. “I’m fine.” His hand lingered and seared its mark on her skin.

Sam’s mind was racing, her body felt like it was running a marathon and she was desperate not to look a fool in front of him. “I’m sorry; I talk when I’m nervous.”

“I noticed.” Andy smiled and let his hand fall away. Sam smiled back awkwardly. “Come on, let’s get that tea poured. I’m parched.” He helped Sam with the drinks and the two of them walked into the living room.

“I’m afraid there isn’t much to sit on yet,” she said. “I’ve only been in a couple of weeks. Do you want the futon or the beanbag?”

“The futon, I think,” he said.

They sat down on the shabby old futon facing each other and started to talk and Humphrey settled down at Sam’s feet.

They were still talking when Sam became aware of Andy’s stomach rumbling. Sam looked at her watch. “God, it’s gone five, you must be starving.”

“What about you?” he said. “Your stomach’s been gurgling for hours.”

“Has it?” she asked. “I hadn’t noticed. I’ll have to find you something to eat before you waste away. I’m afraid it might have to be a bit creative; there isn’t much in the house. I hope that’s all right?”

“No,” Andy said. “It’s not all right. I’m taking you out. I can’t have you scurrying around waiting on me when I’ve turned up two days early. No, come on, we’re going out. What do you fancy?”

“I thought you were dying for fish and chips?” she said.

“Yes, I was, but don’t worry, I had that on my first night back at Mum and Dad’s. It was the highlight of my visit there.”

Sam gave him a chiding look.

“I don’t mean it… much.”

They caught the bus to the other side of town, to a little pub called The Dog and Duck. It was a quiet pub with a nice garden and good food, and there they talked some more. When the night’s chill settled in, they went inside to a settee by an unlit fire and ordered another drink.

Little intimacies punctuated the conversation, like the touch of a hand, or one limb resting against another. Before Sam knew it, time had been called at the bar. She looked at her watch. “Good grief, we’d better get going if we’re not going to miss the last bus.”

On the way back to the bus stop, Andy reached for her hand and Sam gave it willingly. But when they arrived home, Sam began to talk faster again. She rabbited on about where they’d been and what Andy had been used to eating, while making them some more tea.

“Thank you for tonight,” Andy said from his perch beside the door. Sam stopped and looked at him, her nerves jangling.

“I’ll crash out on the futon, if that’s all right with Humph?” he said. “You wouldn’t happen to have a spare blanket or something, would you?”

Sam snapped into action. “Yes, of course. I’ll get you some things.”

Andy picked up her cup and handed it to her. “In a bit.”

They finished their tea and Andy looked at her. “You look tired; beautiful, but tired. Perhaps we should hit the sack?” He took her cup and washed them both up. Then he walked out to get something from his bag in the hallway and came back in with a toothbrush, toothpaste and a small towel.

Sam locked up the house and nervously led the way upstairs. She found a spare pillow and a big blue blanket in a box in the study and took a sheet out of the drawer in her bedroom. She handed them over apologetically. “Are you sure you’ll be all right on that old thing?” she asked.

“Absolutely fine. Don’t worry about me. I can sleep on anything. I told you in my letter, didn’t I?” He rested the bedding on the banister rail of the landing and went into the bathroom.

Sam walked into her bedroom and shut the door. Frantically, she got ready for bed. She waited until she heard the bathroom door open and then went out. It was a warm night, so Sam was wearing her short, white, cotton pyjamas and her hair was loose.

Andy stopped and looked at her. He took a deep breath. “Goodnight, Sam,” he said. Their gazes held each other for a moment, Sam’s heartbeat pounded in her head. Then he turned and walked away down the stairs.

Sam watched him go. “Goodnight,” she said and then went into the bathroom to brush her teeth. When she opened the door again she came face to face with Andy. He was standing near the top of the stairs wearing only his trousers. His torso was bare, lean and muscular, revealing his strong arms. Sam froze, her rigid persona belied the turbulent emotion crashing around beneath.