War Torn (48 page)

‘But he not asleep!’ Agnieszka never went anywhere if Luke was awake.

‘Well, he might enjoy a cup of coffee,’ said Darrel. ‘Come on.’

They sat in big armchairs by a sunny window where they could watch the passers-by, Luke still in the crook of Darrel’s arm. When he showed signs of restlessness, Darrel fished in his pocket for his keys and Luke touched them quietly as though they were something rare and interesting.

‘There’s something I could get him which should keep him amused for a while. I’ll drop it in tonight on my way home,’ he said. She smiled at him. So now he was going to fix Luke as well.

‘He don’t do like this with me,’ she said sadly.

‘What? Relax?’

‘No, he always shouting. Until he shout himself to sleep.’

‘Are you relaxed now, Aggie?’

‘Yes.’ She smiled.

‘There you are then. So’s Luke.’

He reached carefully for his coffee.

‘So your husband’s alive and well. Did you find out who sent the text?’

She frowned. ‘I don’t know. Maybe I never know. Darrel, you not back with your wife?’

‘No.’

‘You see her?’

‘Well, we sort of got back together. For about a week. It was a stupid mistake so I’m at my mum’s again.’

She found herself blushing. She did not know why.

‘Agnieszka, I knew you were married when I met you.’

She remembered telling him that at the garage. He had said: where’s your car? And she had misunderstood and said: Afghanistan. And they had laughed.

‘I like being with you anyway. You’re married but your husband’s away. And your family’s in Poland. And you need help sometimes. And I like helping you. Is that OK?’

She nodded. She looked at Luke, who had fallen asleep on Darrel’s lap, still clutching his keys. ‘Yes. It’s OK.’

‘Is it OK to go out sometimes? Even though you’re married?’

She swallowed.

‘Yes. It’s OK.’

She knew Jamie wouldn’t like it. But Jamie wasn’t in Wiltshire trying to cope with Luke and broken things and hospital appointments and awful text messages. Jamie was in Afghanistan. And Darrel was here.

DAVE
STROLLED
AROUND
THE
PERIMETER
OF
SIN
CITY.
DARK
HAD
already fallen. In fifteen minutes he was due to go to the OC’s tent to be interviewed about an insurgent who had died in a ditch months ago. The event seemed distant now, like something in his childhood.

He breathed deeply, tilted his head and stared above him. He was in the habit of looking at the dazzling Afghan skies whenever he could. The same stars must be hanging over Wiltshire but here the air was so clear that there was real depth of vision and you could see thousands, millions more stars.

He thought about the Taliban fighters, sitting in their compounds, smoking and talking and looking up at the same night sky. They had been staring at this incredible overhead display all their lives. It was, for them, a part of being at home, like the intense summer heat, the poppies, the mountains and the dust storms.

He passed the boss with the woman from Intelligence. The woman was smoking, Gordon Weeks was talking. Dave could understand how, after such a day, the boss would want to spend some time with this woman if he liked her. Weeks was so intent on what he was saying that he didn’t even see Dave.

‘Want one, Sarge?’ asked some lads from 2 Section who were also walking the perimeter in a small group, unusually silent. Their faces shone out of the dark when they lit their cigarettes.

‘All right,’ said Dave.

‘But, Sarge,’ came McKinley’s voice. ‘You don’t smoke.’

‘I do tonight,’ Dave told him, inhaling deeply.

‘Any news on Ben or Ryan, Sarge?’

‘Ben’s doing better than Ryan. Although Ben took more shrapnel than we realized.’

‘What about Ryan’s arm, Sarge?’

‘Unfortunately they’ve had to take it off below the elbow.’

The lads looked as though he had punched them.

‘Is he going to make it?’ asked McKinley quietly. ‘He lost a lot of blood.’

‘I don’t know. He might not.’

‘How about the others?’

‘They took a lump of shrapnel out of Angus McCall’s arm. Kev Swift from 3 Section had shrapnel too. But they’ll be back in a couple of days.’

Dave strolled on. He was aware that his hand was shaking slightly as he smoked. He moved the cigarette into the other hand. That shook, too. He hated this involuntary movement and tried to still it but the tremor would not go away. He yawned. He wished he could just go to sleep. The stress of the day had left his body wrung out.

Sol, going back from the cookhouse after dinner with the lads, saw Dave smoking. He had never seen that before. Should he go and speak to him, or would Dave rather be alone before his difficult interview? He decided the sergeant looked as though he wanted to be alone.

Sol followed the boys back to the tent. They were hovering in the entrance. Finn put his finger to his lips as Sol approached.

Inside, someone was sitting alone on his cot talking to himself. Jamie Dermott.

‘Hop, Frog, hop! Your mummy’s waiting and your daddy’s looking for you! Hop across the big, wide pond!
’

‘They put him on pain relief for the bullet bruise,’ muttered Streaky. ‘Maybe the medic gave him too much.’

‘
How can I cross a pond as big and wide as that, Frog asked Snail?
’

Finn’s eyes were glittering.

‘But Snail didn’t know. He asked Fish. But Fish didn’t know.
Finally Frog asked the Great Crested Newt. And the Great Crested Newt said: hop, Frog, hop, that’s what frogs do!
’

Finn, with a delighted smile, balanced on one foot, arms out, and began to hop over to Jamie’s cot. Mal followed him.

‘Hop! Hop!
’

Bacon wasn’t far behind, yelling:
‘Hip-hop!
’

‘Because
,’ added Binns, hopping after them badly with his bandaged hands waving,
‘that’s what frogs do!
’

Sol stood still, his arms crossed, watching and shaking his head. They had spent the morning in a minefield. Two men in their platoon had been very seriously wounded. And now they were jumping around like kids.

Jamie scowled as the ragged line of men hopped towards him. Mal squeaked:
‘Great Crested Newt, how can I cross the pond?
’

Finn replied, in a deep voice: ‘
I am the wise Great Crested Newt and I say: Hop, hop, you little green bastard, that’s what fucking frogs do!
’

Mal squeaked: ‘Oh,
Snail, how can I cross the great wide pond?
’

Finn was breathless now.

‘You’re nothing but a little green slimeball so go drown yourself.
’

‘Oh, Fish, how can I . . .
’

Sol shook his head again. Jamie stood up without smiling.

‘Fuck off, shitheads. I was recording a story for my kid so he won’t forget my voice. And you’ve ruined it.’

They stopped hopping.

‘Now I’ll have to record the whole thing again and it’s about the fifth time of trying because there’s never any peace around here.’

Sol walked into the tent.

‘Lads, leave him alone. He’s been crawling around mines and he’s cut and bruised from a round. Give him some space.’

‘Oh, shit, man, we could help you,’ said Bacon.

‘The only way you can help me is by letting me get on with it.’

‘No, man,’ insisted Streaky. ‘We can do the sounds. Just you have a listen to Binman . . .’

Binns did a frog noise.

‘That’s quite good,’ Jamie conceded.

‘Here’s a great crested newt . . .’

Jamie laughed. So did the others.

‘See, your kid will really enjoy it with us in the background. Where’s the story book?’ asked Bacon.

‘There isn’t one.’ Jamie showed them some scrunched pieces of paper. ‘I’m writing it myself.’

‘Ooooh, yeah!’ said Bacon enthusiastically. ‘This is going to be a 1 Section production. Tell me what happens to that frog!’

Jamie tried to smooth out the scrunched-up paper. He looked embarrassed. ‘Well, I haven’t worked it all out yet. But basically a bird carries him in its beak all the way across the world and he has to get back to his mum and dad.’

‘Aaaaaaaaah,’ said Mal and Angus, who were cleaning their weapons now.

‘And he has to keep asking the way. He crosses the desert and a big pond and he has to climb a mountain . . .’

‘I can do the wind on the mountain.
Whhhhhhhhhh.
How’s that?’ asked Bacon.

‘Here’s the frog crossing the pond,’ said Binman.
‘Plop. Plop. Plop.
’

Finn said: ‘It’s from you to your kid, right? So the frog comes under enemy fire. And a round hits him but he’s wearing his frog armour and it bounces off . . .’

Binns did the rounds bouncing off.

‘Ker-ping!
’ said Bacon.

Then they did machine guns and a bit of mortar.

‘OK, OK, I get it,’ said Jamie before they could get carried away. ‘I’ll write it and you can help me record it.’

‘You been doing this ever since we got to Sin City?’ asked Sol.

‘No. I thought of it when I got hit by that round. And then after the minefield today I knew I had to do it for Luke. In case . . .’ His voice trailed away.

‘In case anything happens to you,’ said Streaky.

Jamie nodded.

‘You’ll soon have time to record all the stories you want,’ said Finn casually. ‘We’re going on a little holiday.’

‘Oh, yeah?’ said Sol.

‘I reckon we could do with a break. After what happened today. Look at Binman, all pale and thin because he’s spent the day nipping in and out of unexploded mines.’

‘I’m always pale and thin,’ said Binns miserably.

Sol said: ‘I don’t know about any breaks.’

‘Ah. But you don’t play blackjack with my mate Marty.’

Finn and Martyn Robertson had become friends over a pack of cards.

‘The OC is pissed off with the civvies for always going to the same place every day . . .’

‘Where we went with Emily?’ asked Mal.

‘Jackpot, Marty calls it. Well the Engineers are going to build a whole new camp there. A temporary one. We’re going for a week while the civvies measure up their oil field.’

Sol looked suspicious.

‘First I’ve heard of it.’

‘Just you wait, the boss will be announcing it soon. We’re going to Jackpot where there’s nothing to do all day but tell frog stories and get our heads down while the civvies mess about with their black boxes.’

Sol still looked sceptical.

Finn grinned at him. ‘We need some R&R. So I’m looking forward to it, lads.’

Sol decided to catch Dave and ask if he knew anything about a temporary camp at Jackpot. He thought Finn might be right but he didn’t think his 2 i/c should be first with the news. He got as far as the entrance to the tent when he looked at his watch and realized that Dave would be going into his interview with the OC now.