Soldiers' Wives (18 page)

While Jenna waited for the oven to get to the right temperature, she got the turkey out of the fridge, wrestled it into a roasting tin and covered it tightly with tin foil. When the little red light went out, she heaved the whole lot into the still-sparkling oven – the ready meals she mostly dished up hadn't sullied its pristine condition – and slammed the door. She slipped back upstairs to bed, hoping to God nothing held Chrissie up, as she didn't have the first idea about how to carry on with the meal after this stage.

When Chrissie and Immi arrived later, it was obvious to them both that Jenna had already made a start on the vodka – and although she wasn't yet pissed, she soon would be. Sonia Perkins was glowering at her from her seat in the sitting room and Lee was looking nervous as he tried to keep the peace between the two women in his life. Immi and Chrissie handed over a few little gifts and were each given a present from under the tree.

‘Oh, choccies, lovely,' said Chrissie, opening hers. Immi had the same and the two girls were both genuinely touched to be included in the family event. However, from the way Jenna was swirling the ice cubes around her now-empty glass and from the look on Sonia's face, Chrissie realised that if the rest of the day wasn't going to go tits-up, she needed to take action and fast.

Muttering things about basting the bird, she dragged Jenna into the kitchen and shut the door. Immi, thankfully, got the hint that Chrissie had taken charge of the damage limitation exercise and began chatting to Sonia and Lee about Newcastle, which she had visited once and luckily could remember enough about her trip to make conversation.

‘Sit down, Jenna, you're going to have a cup of strong coffee, just as soon as I can make it,' Chrissie ordered, pushing Jenna onto a kitchen chair before putting on the kettle.

Jenna sulked and looked pointedly at her glass, but Chrissie ignored her, concentrating instead on flicking open the cupboards to familiarise herself with this new kitchen. She'd found mug and coffee by the time the kettle boiled and then made a cup of strong, black instant, which she passed to Jenna.

‘Here.'

‘Must I?' said Jenna.

Chrissie gave her a hard stare. ‘If you don't want your first Christmas to be a complete disaster, yes, you must.' Then she softened. ‘Look, I can see your mother-in-law might be tricky—'

‘Tricky?!' squawked Jenna.

‘—but this is Lee's Christmas, as well. If you love him, shouldn't you try to make it a lovely day for him? Upsetting his mum won't achieve that, now, will it?'

Jenna sighed and nodded. ‘It was getting me through it, though.'

‘Get pissed over lunch by all means, I expect we all will, but just stay off the voddies for now, eh?'

Meekly Jenna sipped her coffee, while Chrissie whirled around the kitchen, peeling potatoes and carrots, preparing sprouts, and starting to make the bread sauce. Every now and again, she gave Jenna a simple task to do, like washing up a few utensils, or wrapping cocktail sausages in strips of bacon. By the time elevenses came round Jenna was virtually sober and Sonia was smiling again. Chrissie wasn't sure the situation would last the whole day, but at least they might get through lunch before things reverted.

With the turkey and all its trimmings safely cooking and a reasonable atmosphere now reigning, Chrissie allowed Jenna to re-join the other three in the sitting room. Delicious smells wafted after them through the door.

‘So, where did you learn to cook?' asked Sonia, bestowing a warm smile on Chrissie. Chrissie realised with relief that she and Immi had Sonia's approval. That was one hurdle cleared.

She explained about her childhood.

‘That's not fair. That's no life for a bairn,' said Sonia.

Chrissie shrugged. ‘You have to make the best of what you've got. And I knew no different. It was OK.'

‘Hmm,' said Sonia. ‘It's a shame others don't look at life like that.' She sent a look in Jenna's direction.

Bugger, thought Chrissie, Jenna was still in the doghouse.

Lee obviously realised it too. He jumped up. ‘Well, I think it's time we had a glass of bubbly to get the celebrations going.'

‘It's a bit early yet,' said Sonia.

‘It's Christmas,' insisted Lee.

‘Sounds like a great idea to me,' said Chrissie, hoping that, as she'd found favour with Sonia, her opinion might prove to be significant.

‘Oh, well… if you insist,' said Sonia.

Lee went into the kitchen and there was the sound of a champagne cork popping. A couple of minutes later he reappeared with a tray of brimming glasses.

‘I think we ought to toast Chrissie,' said Lee with a smile. ‘To the chef.'

‘A bit premature for that,' said Chrissie. ‘It might be pants.'

‘I can tell a born home-maker when I see one,' said Sonia. ‘And I know that turkey is going to be fine. You'll make a grand wife for someone, one day.' And she shot another look at Jenna. Luckily, however, Jenna was too busy chugging back her fizz to notice or care.

By three o'clock in the afternoon, across the garrison, all the presents had been exchanged, crackers had been pulled, the turkeys had been cooked, carved and eaten and most of the occupants of the quarters across the patch were full to bursting, as were the dishwashers, for those lucky enough to have them. Outside in the streets kids, high on excitement, additives and sugar, belted about with their new toys, supervised by fathers who mostly seemed to be nursing a glass of port or a can of beer, while the mothers finished clearing up.

At the top end of Omdurman Avenue, the Collins household was deathly quiet. Mike and Susie were snoring, and drunkenly comatose on the sofa, while their two girls, back from boarding school, had taken themselves up to their bedrooms to watch inappropriate and illicit DVDs they had obtained, and enjoy uninterrupted access to their dad's laptop, Facebooking friends, friends who didn't go to their hugely expensive prep school, friends they knew their mother would disapprove of.

Further down the road, at the junior officers' end, Maddy and Seb had collapsed in a heap on the sofa, while Nathan dozed in his bouncy chair. Maddy's parents, who wouldn't be denied their first grandchild's first Christmas, had taken themselves up to bed for a snooze, full of turkey and a shade too much Veuve Clicquot and Pinot Grigio.

‘Do you think Nate had a good time?' asked Maddy, as she lay, knackered, against the cushions, exhausted from the early start and the slog of cooking the meal, then cleaning the kitchen and dealing with the leftovers.

‘He had a lovely time, hon. We all did.'

Maddy snuggled closer to Seb and gave him a kiss of thanks. ‘Bung the TV on. I feel like watching something mindless.'

Seb picked up the remote and the television flicked into life. The Queen's Speech had finished, a couple of predictable films were already halfway through, and Seb continued to slowly trawl through the channels waiting for something to pop up that appealed to both of them. The BBC twenty-four-hour news channel appeared.

‘Is the world still turning?' asked Maddy dozily, as she yawned deeply and contemplated a little zizz instead.

But Seb was reading the banner drifting across the bottom of the screen. ‘Fuck,' he said.

‘What's the matter?' Maddy jerked awake.

‘Another load of casualties for 2 Herts,' said Seb.

Maddy read the banner herself and saw the words
Their families have been informed
. She felt her eyes filling with tears. ‘And to be told on Christmas Day.'

‘I don't think Christmas would make it any worse,' said Seb.

‘But if those poor buggers have kids…' She could hardly bear to think about it. Numbly, still having to make an effort not to cry, she watched the red ticker-tape continue to scroll across the screen with the news of the 2 Herts casualties. The phrase about the families being informed was the signal to every other army relative in the land that, although the news was grim for someone, they weren't about to get the knock at the door with awful news of their nearest and dearest. Maddy knew, only too well, how the army handled this; Seb had put her in the picture when he'd been out there. First, when a soldier was reported having sustained a life changing injury, or worse, all personal communications between soldiers and their families got shut down under something called Operation Minimise, so the bad news couldn't leak out accidentally. Then, the soldier's next of kin got a personal visit from an army officer, probably accompanied by the families officer or a padre, and then once the immediate family had been told and they'd had the chance to tell anyone else who ought to know, then the press got put in the picture too. She remembered vividly how her heart had raced when her phone had rung at unexpected times, scared witless that this was a call from Seb's dad, passing on some ghastly news. It hadn't happened but she hadn't forgotten the anxiety she'd felt.

Suddenly, even though the news affected no one that Maddy knew personally, she couldn't find it in her heart to feel very jolly any more.

Over at the Perkinses' quarter, things had been extremely jolly but that had now degenerated into all-out chaos and hardly anyone was in a state to focus on world events. The mauled turkey still sat on the dining room table, while Immi had utterly forgotten she was duty clerk and, soused in fizz and Bacardi, had passed out on the floor. Jenna was in a similar state and was out for the count on the sofa, and Sonia, no better than either of them, was snoring heavily in one of the armchairs. Only Chrissie seemed relatively sober, but that was in comparison to those who patently weren't. But at least she was still upright, awake and both her eyes faced front.

She stared around the room – even Lee had his eyes shut. Now was a good time to make a move. She'd carried out her side of the bargain and helped Jenna cook a more than passable Christmas lunch. Now she wanted to escape. She'd just make sure everything was cleared away – the least she could do – and then she could bugger off. She began to take the turkey carcass out into the kitchen.

‘Sit,' said Lee, opening his eyes, ‘you've done quite enough.'

‘If this bird doesn't go into the fridge, it'll all be wasted. You can't mess around with poultry. And anyway, I'm just having a bit of a tidy up.'

‘There's no need,' said Lee.

‘It's the least I can do. I've had a lovely Christmas, much better than if I'd had lunch in the cookhouse, and as soon as I've done this, I'm going to push off.'

She didn't want to stay and chat. She didn't want Lee asking any awkward questions about why she'd been blanking him. What could she say? That she was ridiculously attracted to him and was avoiding him where humanly possible, because it was so horribly wrong? Yeah, like that was a conversation she wanted to have. No, best to just light out and duck the issue. She carried the remains of the turkey through to the kitchen, where she rummaged in Jenna's cupboards and drawers till she found the foil and began to wrap it around the leftovers. Lee followed behind her and leaned against a worktop.

‘It can wait,' he said.

‘Maybe. But it's time to go. I've had a wicked time, though, thanks to you and Jenna. You've been dead kind.' But she spoke to the counter, not to Lee. She didn't trust herself to look at him.

‘And our Christmas would have been crap without you. Jenna wouldn't have had a clue what to do, if you hadn't shown her.'

‘And so, what about your mother?'

‘She and Jenna would not have made a good team.' Lee shrugged. ‘But they both had a grand time and Mam thought you were a superstar.'

Chrissie thought that Sonia should have been thinking that about Jenna, not her. She concentrated on getting the turkey swaddled in foil, embarrassment preventing her from making eye-contact with Lee.

She jumped when she felt his hand on her wrist. She snatched her arm out of reach, sending the turkey platter skidding away from her.

‘Stop and keep me company,' said Lee.

‘I can't. I have to get back.'

‘Immi's the one on duty, not you.'

‘I know, but I've things to do.'

‘On Christmas Day?'

She picked up the bird. ‘Open the fridge, Lee.' She would make sure the turkey was safely put away and then she'd leave. Thankfully, Lee did as he was told.

But when the big, heavy plate was safely on a shelf and she'd shut the door, she turned round and bumped straight into him. He was standing right behind her. Chrissie leapt back, but bounced off the fridge.

‘I'm done,' she said, as calmly as she could before she pushed past him, grabbed her coat off the peg in the hall and legged it back to her barrack room. She didn't want to feel this way about him; she didn't want to feel this way about anyone. She wanted to get on with
her
life, on
her
own with no responsibilities other than the ones that came with
her
job. She told herself, yet again, that she didn't want the likes of Lee, or anyone else, worrying about her, or caring about her, and she didn't want to have to worry, or care, about them.

And thankfully, according to the MO, and if the Manning and Records Office didn't change the postings' plot, her replacement was due in to the battalion the first week of January, and shortly after that, she'd be off to Afghanistan and thousands of miles from Lee or any other complications.

Lee arrived back from taking his mother to the local railway station.

‘I'm back,' he called as he got through the front door.

‘I'm stripping the bed,' answered Jenna from upstairs. She sounded sulky, but then housework did that to her. Lee did his best to help when he could – after all, they both had full-time jobs, so it was only fair – but, however much he did, it never seemed quite enough. He wondered how she'd cope with everything on her own when he flew to Bastion in a couple of weeks.