Soldiers' Wives (7 page)

Chrissie wondered if they had just chased after her and Mr Jenks out of curiosity. She didn't feel inspirational. But she did feel quite proud that she'd rescued the company's long weekend. It was a good feeling.

The CO drifted off to talk to some of the other NCOs and an admiring group formed around Chrissie.

‘Well done,' said Lee, ‘you were amazing.'

And Chrissie felt ridiculously happy to have his approval and her good feeling
got even better.

‘So how many did you get?' asked Chrissie. She was still puffed even though she had recovered sufficiently to climb the stairs, albeit very slowly, to her barrack room where Immi was already showered and now dressed in combats rather than PE kit.

‘Five and extra PT for four weeks,' she replied glumly. ‘And then I have to pass my BFT or it'll be more of the same. Honestly, Chrissie, I'm a clerk, I bash keyboards all day. Why do I have to be super-fit to open a filing cabinet?'

Chrissie grabbed her towel. ‘Tell you what, suppose I have a word with Sergeant Wilkes and see if she'll let me take you for extra PT? I mean, I know I'm not a PTI but she's knows I'm fit.' She didn't add that the whole regiment knew that now. ‘And you and I could have a bit of fun together as we work out. How about it?'

‘You'd do that for me?' Immi was genuinely astounded.

Chrissie nodded. ‘But you've got to promise me you'll make a proper effort. Just 'cos I'm not some hairy-arsed PTI doesn't mean you can take advantage. I'll expect you to graft –
and
pass your fitness test. First time.'

Immi nodded eagerly. ‘I will, promise.'

‘I'll make sure you do, if you make the effort too. So, to make sure, we're going to start with a session in the gym this evening.'

‘This evening!' squeaked Immi. ‘But we did a run this morning.'

‘
I
did a run this morning,' countered Chrissie. ‘
You
did a bit of a jog and then gave up.'

Immi gave in. ‘Five thirty, at the gym?'

‘See you then,' acknowledged Chrissie, as she went off for a shower, leaving Immi looking both apprehensive and miserable. Chrissie decided, as she showered, that she wouldn't be too hard on Immi for the first session – that would come later.

Chrissie and Lee's paths crossed again the following Wednesday.

‘Look,' said Immi, nodding towards the serving counter in the cookhouse. ‘It's Jenna's bloke.' She waved. ‘Coo-ee. Lee.' He turned and saw them. ‘Budge up, Chrissie, make a space for him.'

They watched Lee grab a plate of spaghetti bolognese and head their way. He had a broad grin on his face.

‘Hello, girls,' he said as he sat down.

Immi simpered at him. ‘Hi, Lee.'

Lee pushed his plate off his tray, sorted out his drink and cutlery and began to tuck into his meal. After a couple of forkfuls he paused and looked at Chrissie. ‘I was hoping to run into you. What are your plans for this afternoon?' On Wednesday afternoons, all soldiers who didn't have specific tasks or duties to carry out were expected to take part in some sort of physical activity for an hour or so at the very least.

Immi shrugged. ‘Thought I'd go into town and get some new jeans.'

Lee laughed. ‘I don't think the army rates shopping as a sport.'

‘It is if you do it right,' said Immi, unabashed. ‘Besides, I'll be doing a session in the gym with Chrissie this evening, because she's on a mission to get me fit so she's cutting me some slack now.'

‘And,' interrupted Chrissie, ‘I want to go on a proper run and if Immi tags along I'll only get as far as the barrack gate.'

‘Harsh but fair,' admitted Immi. ‘So I'm going to do some extreme shopping.'

‘Trust me,' said Chrissie, ‘if it was an Olympic sport, Immi would medal.'

Lee smiled at her. ‘So you're going running?'

‘That's the plan.'

‘Want company?'

Immi's eyebrows rocketed skywards. She glanced from Lee to Chrissie. She narrowed her eyes. Was there something going on there? Nah, there couldn't be, not when Lee had Jenna.

‘Yeah, why not,' said Chrissie. ‘How far do you want to go? Five miles? Ten?'

‘Ten miles?' squeaked Immi. ‘But that's… miles,' she finished, lamely.

Chrissie laughed. ‘It's not so far. We should be back in an hour and a half.'

Immi fanned herself. Jeez – ten miles, that was just showing off. So maybe this pair just got a kick out of running. Weird. She picked up her empty plate. ‘Right, I'm going to change and catch the bus. As it's sports afternoon and because I'm on extra PT, I'll go upstairs and sit on the top deck. How's that for exercise?'

She waggled her fingers in farewell, leaving Lee and Chrissie discussing a possible route.

The two were about halfway around their planned route, loping along at an easy pace, their strides matching. They were both puffing slightly, but weren't out of breath. Their trainers slapped the tarmac of the pavement rhythmically, as the cars on the road beside them swished past. A fine drizzle was falling: enough to make the ground greasy and their hair and clothes damp, without it being so wet as to be completely miserable.

‘This feels easier than last time,' said Chrissie. ‘I must be getting back on form. My self-imposed mission to get Immi fit is having an unexpected advantage for me. Mind you, I spend more time trying to make her do an extra ten reps here and there than I do on the fitness machines myself.'

‘I've been down the gym in the evenings, too,' said Lee. ‘I've got to work on my stamina and endurance.'

‘So you're determined to have another go at SAS selection?'

‘Got to be done.'

‘What about Jenna? I mean, those guys are never home; they're always getting sent off to some dodgy place or other. Won't she mind about being left on her own for half the year?'

‘I'm sure it's not as bad as that. And she knows it's my ambition. She'll be cool about it.'

Chrissie shrugged. What did she really know either about Jenna or the SAS? ‘If we go along here,' she said, pointing to a sign indicating a bridle path, ‘we can avoid running along the dual carriageway. It's a shade longer but quieter.'

They turned off and began to run along the new route – a disused railway line which had the advantage of being straight and pretty level, but sadly the surface was mostly hardcore and sand, and because of the recent rain it was far from smooth. Push bikes had chopped deep grooves into it, horses' hooves had gouged out dents, and just sheer wear and tear had left big potholes. And the wet conditions made the whole path slippery and treacherous. They jogged along it for a couple of miles, both trying to ignore how rubbish the surface was, but both knowing there had to be an easier way back to the barracks – one which didn't involve trip hazards and endless puddles.

‘This is such a bad idea,' said Chrissie as she jumped another puddle and slipped on landing. Her arms flailed as she just managed to keep her balance.

‘It's crap,' agreed Lee. ‘Let's get off it at the next opportunity.'

‘Well, that can't be too soon,' said Chrissie as her foot slithered again.

They continued to jog along, past the dripping, sloe-laden branches of the blackthorns, and the brambles and the nettles which hemmed them in like barbed wire and made any prospect of leaving the path almost impossible.

‘There's a bridge up ahead,' said Chrissie after a few more minutes. ‘If it crosses a road, maybe there's a chance we can find a path down the embankment to join it.'

‘Good call.'

They puffed their way up the slight gradient which had raised the old railway up to the bridge. There the pair paused and looked over the parapet.

‘I know where we are,' said Chrissie. ‘Isn't that the Swan?' She pointed to a pub garden just visible behind a tall hedge a couple of hundred yards away.

Lee nodded. ‘And look, steps,' he said. To their left, where the brickwork of the bridge stopped, there were some rough and uneven steps made out of old sleepers which led down the almost vertical embankment to the lane below.

‘Come on,' he said. He tramped through a gap in the dense, soggy undergrowth and began to pick his way down the treads. Gingerly, Chrissie followed. Each step was either a different width or a different height from its predecessor, and that, coupled with the slippery conditions and the steep gradient, made the descent truly treacherous. Ahead of her she saw Lee make it to the safety of the road below and because she was watching him, she missed her step and caught her foot in the wooden riser which stood proud of the tread. With a cry of fear, she felt herself plunge towards the wet tarmac. Lee whipped round and just managed to catch her.

The shock of the fall left Chrissie feeling wobbly and she clung to him to steady herself for a second, while the trembling in her legs stopped and her heart rate returned to something like normal as the jolt of adrenalin left her system. She looked up into his face, inches from her own.

‘Thank you, Lee,' she panted.

‘No worries, lass,' he replied, looking into her eyes. ‘You gave us a bit of a shock, there.'

Chrissie felt her heart do an odd little flick-flack and somewhere deep inside, muscles she hardly knew she had squeezed tight and sent a shiver of pleasure right through her. Swiftly, she pulled herself out of his arms. Whatever she was feeling was wrong on every level: wrong because she didn't want a boyfriend; wrong because he was Jenna's husband; and wrong because no bloke ought to be able to make a girl feel like that just by holding her.

She bent down to retie a shoelace while she got herself under control, then, that done, she stood up and said, ‘Right, race you back to the barracks,' and shot off before Lee could respond. He caught up with her after about a couple of hundred yards, but Chrissie pushed the pace to an extent where they had no breath left for talking. By the time they got to the guardroom, they were both shattered.

Chrissie collapsed onto the steps by the barrier, her head between her knees, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her shoulders heaving.

‘That,' said Lee, also gasping, ‘was one well hard run. Thanks, Chrissie.' He hauled in a juddering lungful of air. ‘We must do it again.'

But Chrissie had already made her mind up; she was going to avoid Lee at all costs. Footloose and fancy free, that was what she wanted her life to be for the foreseeable future, and she wasn't going to tempt herself, or providence. And anyway, he was a married man and completely off limits.

‘We'll see,' was her lukewarm response. ‘I think I'm pretty tied up for the next few weeks.' And if she wasn't, she was going to find ways of making sure she was.

‘But surely Wednesdays…?' said Lee.

‘I've got some sports events lined up,' Chrissie lied. ‘Netball.' She'd bet her last penny that Lee wouldn't know anything about netball and still less about which of the women in the battalion made up the team.

‘Oh well.' He sounded really disappointed. ‘See you around.'

Chrissie nodded but in her head she was thinking, No you won't.

Maddy looked about her sitting room with an expression of satisfaction on her pretty, heart-shaped face. Finally, one room straight, she thought. She was just about to celebrate with a cup of tea when the doorbell rang. Cradling Nathan in one arm, Maddy went to answer it.

‘Caro! You must be psychic, I was just about put the kettle on.'

‘Hi, Maddy, hiya, Nathan. No, I've not come to scrounge a cuppa, I've come to take you and Nathan out.'

‘Out?'

‘Wives' Club.'

Maddy noticed Luke in his buggy behind Caro. Not for the first time she thought how startlingly like his mother the boy was, with his blond curls and stunning, navy blue eyes and ready smile. ‘But we're not ready. I mean, I hadn't planned…'

‘So? We're talking Wives' Club here, not dinner at the CO's house. Get Nate into his outdoor togs, grab a nappy bag and let's go.'

Maddy glanced through the dining room door to her left and saw the tissue and newspaper spilling out of the boxes, the piles of crockery still to be put away in the sideboard, and wavered.

‘If you don't get it all squared away today,' said Caro, following her neighbour's gaze, ‘no one is going to die.'

Then Nate let out a wail.

Maddy sighed. ‘But it's not fair to inflict a colicky baby on other mums.'

‘Like everyone else's is perfect – and they cheerfully inflict them on the rest of us. Look at Philippa's kids.'

Maddy shook her head. Who was Philippa and what about her kids?

‘You've not met Edward and Josh? No? They live at number thirty.' Maddy was none the wiser. ‘Well,' continued Caro, ‘just keep them at arm's length when you do. Not that you'll want them any closer as the pair always have about a yard of green snot hanging down their faces. I mean, why their mother hasn't taught them to blow their noses…' She shuddered. ‘And then there's Olivia. I've never known a child throw a tantrum like she does. Skweems and skweems and skweems till she's sick,' she said, quoting from
Just William
. ‘So little Nate, here…' she plonked a fat kiss on his cheek, ‘is an angel in comparison. Just like my two, obviously. But then I might be a teeny bit biased. So come on – pull your finger out.'

Maddy gave in and tugged Nate's all-in-one off the peg by the door. ‘Can you stuff him in that?' she asked Caro, handing her the garment and the baby. ‘I'll just get his kit together.' Maddy raced upstairs to grab Nate's nappy bag and as she did so, she realised that she was looking forward to getting out and meeting the other wives.

Five minutes later the two women were pushing their buggies along the road towards the community centre, an old senior officer's quarter which had been converted for use in this new role. Nate didn't seem to be too happy about the outing and was grizzling.