Soldiers' Wives (23 page)

Lee moved so Johnny could position himself behind the gun and then made his way down the ladder to the main compound. Water dripped off the rectangles of camouflaged waterproof fabric that had been lashed up to provide shelter from both the rain and the sun. It made him appreciate just how gleaming Bastion had been. It might have been Tent City, but the bogs flushed and there was running water. Here, the only running water was a stream that ran across the compound every time it rained heavily, and the only sign of civilisation was the interminable puttering of the diesel generator which fed their comms equipment.
Basic
didn't come close when it came to describing their conditions.

Still shivering, Lee decided to skip his meal and head straight for his bed space, which was a two-man tent, hard-up by the compound wall. He peeled off his wet clothes and hung them from a makeshift washing line strung from a couple of scaffolding poles, which held up yet more cam netting and tarps for shelter. Lee was certain his kit wouldn't dry before he had to put it on again, but he had dry clothes to wear in his sleeping bag. More important to sleep in comfort than to have that luxury on stag. Besides, it was much easier to keep alert, if you weren't feeling too cosy.

He decided to get his head down and try to grab some zeds. He was on duty again tonight, and then he'd come straight off his watch and go out on patrol at first light. Still, he wasn't going to complain, not even to himself. It wasn't as if he'd joined the army on a whim.

He pulled on a dry T-shirt and shorts and then his softie suit, which was like pyjamas made out of a duvet, and then climbed into his sleeping bag. Cosy at last, he thought, although both his softie suit and his bug bag already smelled less than fresh. He wondered how bad they would get by the time his tour was over. Minging, probably.

Lying down on his camp bed, he pulled his day sack out from underneath. He rummaged around till he found a chocolate bar he knew to be in there and the letter that had arrived this morning. Post was sporadic, he'd been told, and reality bore this out. If there was room on the supply run, they'd sling the postbag on too. If not, it stood to reason that water, food and ammo were more important.

Dear Lee
, he read as he chomped on the Crunchie.
All is well here, although the place seems pretty dull and boring without your ugly mug cluttering up the joint. Work is the same old, same old with nothing much of note to report. People come and go. I've got a new neighbour, although you'd expect that given the turnover around here. She seems nice enough and we haven't fallen out yet. I'll try and send you some mags next time I write. Which would you prefer – lads' mags or cars? Or maybe something else. The shop here stocks a variety of stuff. Is there anything else you need? Let me know and I'll send that too. You look after yourself and I meant what I said about your size 12s. Watch where you're going. Best, Chrissie xx

Two kisses? Habit or significant? Part of him hoped for the latter explanation, although his head told him it was more likely the former. They got on – well, if he wasn't already married, he'd have liked it to be more, but no point in contemplating that. And Chrissie's letter was, at the moment, the only one he'd received. No word yet from his mam, or Jenna. Of course, the post from the UK was bound to take longer. There were probably several letters on the way, he reasoned. He just needed to be patient. He slipped the letter back into his day sack, finished his snack and snuggled down to get forty winks. But it was Chrissie he was thinking of, not Jenna, as he drifted off.

‘Summers.'

‘Yes, boss,' Chrissie answered. She finished writing down the patient's temperature on the chart at the end of the bed, gave the soldier an apologetic smile and turned to give the doctor her attention.

‘How's it going?' asked the colonel.

‘Good, thanks, sir.'

‘Settling in OK?'

Chrissie nodded. ‘Getting used to it. I've almost stopped hearing the noise of the helicopters.'

The colonel grinned. ‘I know what you mean.' The sound of helicopters was the soundtrack of the base: starting up, winding down, hovering, landing, taking off. There was never a minute of the day without the clatter and the accompanying high-pitched whine of the engines. ‘And talking of helicopters, I'm looking for a volunteer.'

‘What for?' asked Chrissie warily. She might have volunteered to come out here to Bastion but, like all soldiers, she didn't readily put herself forward for other duties outside her job spec.

‘The MERT team.'

‘Oh.' Well, that would be something different. The medical emergency response team were the medics on standby to fly in a Chinook to scoop battlefield casualties off the ground and rush them back to the hospital. The Chinook they flew in was kitted out like a full-on A&E, so the treatment could be started as soon as the soldier was on board. The golden hour gleamed a little brighter and was extended a little longer with this facility.

‘You'll want time to think about it.'

‘A little,' Chrissie conceded. Wanting to save lives was a no-brainer, but Chrissie knew that it wasn't the safest option. OK, so Bastion had incurred attacks, guys inside the huge camp had been killed, but the MERTs flew into raging battles. They had protection from the Apache attack helicopters that accompanied them, and they flew with armed troops on board, who deployed on landing, to protect them on the ground, but Chinooks were still bloody big targets and had been shot out of the sky before.

‘How long?' asked the colonel. ‘Only we'll need a replacement on the MERT by the end of the week. If you say no, I've got to nobble someone else.'

Chrissie made up her mind. She wasn't a heroine, but she didn't have any dependents. If anything happened to her, there wouldn't be any knock-on. No kids left motherless, no grieving parents, no husband or fiancé to mourn her. Anyway, she quite fancied a ride in a helicopter. ‘I'll do it.'

‘You sure?' said the colonel.

Chrissie nodded. ‘Why not? I've had a really quiet life. It could do with some pepping up. A bit of excitement might be nice.'

‘Brilliant. And if it's excitement you're after, you'll be sure to get it. Go and see Major Tomlinson, he'll brief you. You know where to find him?'

Chrissie certainly did. The MERT teams had their own space at the far end of the field hospital, the end nearest the helipad. There they waited for the calls to come in with the details of the casualty to be rescued. While the pilot raced for the chopper and got it started, the team grabbed the necessary medical supplies. Happily they spent a lot of their time being bored, but the trouble was, it wasn't
enough
of their time.

She finished her immediate duties, got permission from the ward sister to go and talk to the MERT team, and slipped down the tented corridors of the hospital to where the standby team hung out. She went into the rest room and introduced herself to Major Tomlinson.

‘Welcome aboard, Summers,' he said, shaking her hand. ‘A willing volunteer being worth ten pressed men and all that baloney.'

‘Yes, possibly,' said Chrissie.

‘Hi, Chrissie.'

She spun round. ‘Phil!' She was genuinely pleased to see him. A ready-made friend and a familiar face and, finally, their paths had crossed.

‘Don't sound so surprised. You knew I was here.'

She laughed. ‘I know, I know, and I did try to find you to start with, promise, but there's so much going on, I sort of forgot.'

Phil's face fell. ‘You forgot me? I am well insulted.' He stepped back and smiled. ‘It's good to see you here, Chrissie.'

Chrissie felt a surge of pleasure at being so welcomed. ‘Thanks.'

‘So,' said Major Tomlinson, ‘let's get back to your briefing, shall we?' But it was said in an easy tone. He, too, seemed pleased that the new addition to the team appeared to be such a welcome one. ‘You know how we work?'

‘The basics, obviously.'

The major reached behind him and picked a pad off the table. ‘You've seen one of these before – a nine-liner?'

Chrissie scanned the pro forma. It was a checklist of nine details required when the request for a casualty evacuation was radioed in. Stuff like how serious the injuries were, how many patients, how they were going to locate the pick-up point and another six other details, including the consideration of whether or not they might have to operate under hostile conditions and the like. ‘Only in training. I've not seen a real one filled out.'

‘Lucky you,' said the major grimly. ‘After you've been with us a week, you'll start wishing you'd never seen one at all.'

Chrissie wasn't quite sure what to say to this, so she kept silent. She just hoped she'd made the right decision and it wasn't one she'd regret later.

‘Your mate Jenna has been causing trouble again,' said Seb, as he walked into the kitchen at lunchtime.

Maddy stopped stirring the soup and sighed. How often did she have to tell him? ‘She's not my mate. Anyway, what's she done now?'

‘She had another slanging match with Zoë. This time in the Spar.'

‘I know, I was there.'

‘You were
there
?'

‘I was popping to get some bits and pieces when Zoë stormed out with Jenna yelling some choice phrases after her.'

‘You didn't tell me.'

‘I didn't think it was that important.'

‘But she's the wife of one of my soldiers.'

‘I didn't think you wanted me to get involved.'

‘Maddy, there's a difference between getting involved and telling me stuff.'

‘I'll remember next time.' She knew she sounded sulky and petulant but she'd been much more worried about Caro's mad plan to invite Jenna to talk to the Wives' Club and the trouble
that
was likely to cause, than she had been with the spat in the Spar. And she couldn't tell Seb about Caro's scheme, because he'd tell Will and Will'd probably get cross with Caro and it would all be
her
fault.

‘Anyway, I don't suppose there'll be a next time,' said Seb. ‘I can't see how Jenna's business will fly, if Zoë's got it in for her.'

‘Doesn't that make you feel a bit sorry for Jenna?'

‘It isn't as if she's invested anything in her venture. She hasn't got a proper shop like Zoë, has she?'

‘Salon,' corrected Maddy automatically.

‘You know what I mean. Whatever she's doing, it's a bit tinpot in comparison. Stands to reason.'

‘And it's not a tinpot business.' Shit. She hadn't meant that to slip out.

Seb looked bewildered. ‘What do you mean?'

‘Nothing.'

‘Maddy?'

She couldn't meet Seb's eye.

‘Maddy, if you don't tell me yourself, I'll find out. What's Jenna been up to?'

‘She's had alterations done to her quarter,' mumbled Maddy.

‘She's done what?' Seb's bewilderment turned to anger in a heartbeat. ‘You knew this and you didn't tell me?'

‘You didn't want to know,' retorted Maddy, now equally angry, although mostly with herself for letting the cat out of the bag. Nate, on the floor in his bouncy chair, looked startled at the outbursts and screwed his eyes up ready to cry. Maddy hunkered down beside him and gave him a kiss. He gurgled instead. ‘I asked you if you wanted me to find out what she was up to and you told me “not to meet trouble halfway”. Your
exact
words, Seb.' She stared up at him belligerently. ‘You made it perfectly clear I wasn't to get involved or interfere.'

‘Yes, but I didn't know she'd done
that
!'

‘You didn't
want
to know,' she repeated, as she got to her feet again and went back to stirring the soup.

‘So what's she had done, exactly?'

‘She's got a proper hairdressing basin in her bathroom. And she's had the bath taken out and a shower put in.'

Seb's jaw hung slackly. ‘She's what?'

‘You heard,' said Maddy.

‘And she's got away with it?'

Maddy shoved away the uncomfortable thought that Jenna would have continued to get away with it, if she hadn't got such a big mouth. ‘I don't suppose her customers want to rock the boat. She's bloody good as a hairdresser.'

‘Just because her customers don't want to rock the boat doesn't mean what she's done isn't against regulations.' Seb ran his hand through his hair. ‘Why hasn't someone bubbled her? And how come no one noticed the work going on?'

‘I gather she just told her neighbours her quarter needed the bathroom refurbed and they believed her. Some of them were a bit jealous – said their bathrooms were grotty and needed doing – but we all know how the system works. That generally it's never
your
turn for the new carpets or curtains, it's the turn of the person who moves into your quarter when you've gone. You know, jam tomorrow.'

Seb nodded. ‘And her neighbours just accepted her story?'

‘Come off it, why on earth shouldn't they? Who on earth would be mental enough to have that sort of work done on a quarter? Of
course
all her neighbours thought it was pukka.'

‘I can't ignore this – not now I know. I'm going to have to tell Housing.'

‘Must you, Seb? She's only trying to run a business. Can't you turn a blind eye? Please.' What had she done? Her sense of guilt went off the scale. Even if she'd changed her mind about Jenna and didn't much like her these days, even if she thought she was out of order, the woman didn't deserve this.

He shook his head, as Maddy put two bowls on the table and poured in tomato soup. ‘Not now. How can I deny that I know, now that I do? Sorry, Maddy, but the shit is about to hit the fan. And in the meantime, I think it'd be better if you didn't have anything to do with Jenna – including getting her to do your hair. I think this is bound to cause trouble and let's try not to get involved, eh?'