Soldiers' Wives (8 page)

‘Maybe this isn't a good idea,' she said to Caro, horribly aware that his cries were quite noisy even out in the open; in a confined space they'd seem even worse.

‘Of course it is,' said Caro. ‘As if anyone has had a baby who has never cried.'

‘And I suppose the colic will pass. Won't it?' she added hopefully.

‘Should do. In a previous existence I was a nanny, and I never looked after a baby that suffered beyond about four months. It's not called three-month colic for nothing. It'll pass, honestly. By Christmas, this will all be a memory.'

Maddy didn't listen to what Caro said about the colic – all she heard was that Caro had been a nanny. So that explained why she was so brilliant with Nathan, which only made Maddy feel even more inadequate. ‘You must think I'm a complete moron – the way I am with Nate.'

Caro shook her head. ‘God, of course I don't. He's your first, and they don't come with an instruction manual. And, let's face it, having to move almost straight after giving birth has hardly made things easier for you – or him. I think you're an absolute trouper.'

‘Really?'

‘Really.'

They reached the community centre and parked their buggies at the edge of the dozen or so other ones that littered the drive to the big house. Maddy unclipped Nate's car seat from the frame of the pushchair and lugged it in through the front door while Caro took off Luke's restraining straps so he could toddle in after her.

Inside the house the hubbub of women's voices almost managed to drown out Nate's cries. Maddy picked him out of his seat and unzipped his suit before stripping the bulky outer garment off him and popping him back in. Then she hooked the handle of his seat over her arm like a handbag.

‘Come and meet everyone,' said Caro, holding open a door and ushering her into the main room. Around the walls were a couple of dozen dining room chairs, while in the middle of the floor was an impressive array of toys and a number of small children, mostly playing contentedly. Caro nudged Maddy and whispered, ‘Spot Josh.'

Maddy looked at the kids on the floor. Oh, yes, she could see in an instant exactly what Caro had meant. Yuck.

‘Now then, let me introduce you to a few people and then I'll get us both a coffee.' She made a beeline across the room to a thirty-something woman in a tweed skirt and sweater. ‘Maddy, I don't think you've met Seb's OC's wife – this is Susie whose husband is Seb's boss. Susie, this is Maddy Fanshaw, wife of the famous Seb Fanshaw – you know, the rower – and her son, Nathan.'

Susie looked impressed. ‘Oh my God, Mike told me we had a superstar joining our company. He's the guy who nearly made the Olympics, no?'

Maddy had long since discovered that wives in army circles seemed to be defined by their husband's status and rank and, although it still rankled, she'd learned to accept that her previous existence as a biochemist and an Oxford graduate counted for nought. She was also faintly amused to hear Susie use the phrase ‘our company'. Since when had Mike Collins shared command of B Company with his wife, she wondered? Oh well, thought Maddy, she'd better try and be nice to her while Caro was off getting them both a cup of coffee. She didn't know much about the army, but she did know that pissing off her husband's boss's wife was probably not a good thing.

‘You'll have to join the babysitting circle,' said Susie.

‘Babysitting circle?' Maddy put Nathan and his chair on a nearby coffee table and flexed her arm to relieve the stiffness. Nate was no lightweight.

‘Just about every married patch has one – the mums all get tokens for twelve hours' free babysitting from the other mums. We pay each other for babysitting in tokens – double tokens after midnight – and earn them back by repaying the favour. Easy, cheap and a fab way of getting to know other mums with kids. You don't have to join if you don't want to,' added Susie, although her tone of voice seemed to imply that this wasn't really an option.

‘It sounds great,' said Maddy hastily, hoping she sounded sufficiently enthusiastic, because she couldn't envisage ever again having the energy for an evening out with Seb. If she watched the news at ten she was staying up late.

‘We've got a meeting at my place shortly. I'll pop the details through your door. You can get to meet the other mums, see who you'd like to entrust with Nate. Make sure you come along.'

Maddy resisted the temptation to snap a salute and say ‘yes, ma'am'. It really wasn't an invitation but an order.

‘And I'll come round to see you soon – help you get settled in, answer any questions, sort you out with some committees you might want to join, that sort of thing.'

Committees… oh dear God, as if she didn't have enough on her plate with a colicky baby, a recent house move and Seb's rowing training.

‘Anyway,' said Susie, ‘I mustn't monopolise you.' And she drifted off. Maddy had the feeling she'd escaped because there was someone else more interesting or more worthy of Susie's attention.

Caro returned with their coffees. ‘Can I assume that Susie's sorted you out with babysitting?'

Maddy nodded. She was still feeling shell-shocked. ‘That's one way of putting it,' she murmured.

‘Excellent. But you can always ask me, if you need to have an hour or so to yourself. I mean it,' she added. ‘I love babies, so it would be a real pleasure.'

Maddy took a sip of her coffee. ‘Caro, promise me that, if you see me turning into some clone of Susie, you'll shoot me.'

Caro laughed. ‘She's not that bad.'

Maddy raised her eyebrows. ‘No?' She recounted her conversation. ‘Honestly, what with her and Mrs N, I've got this feeling there's some sort of operation they do on wives once their husbands get to a certain rank, to insert a set of khaki genes into them. Don't these women want to do anything except advance their husbands? I've heard of career wives, but this is ridiculous.'

Caro nearly choked on her coffee. She looked about her. ‘I see your point. It's not universal though.'

‘No?'

‘Honestly. I'm modelling myself on a woman I met in Tidworth when we had a posting there. She came to my door when I'd just arrived, introduced herself as Lizzy and promptly invited me to a lunch party the following week. “Do come,” she said. “I've invited everyone in this road.” So I said, “What, even the old farts in the big houses at the posh end?” She just giggled and said that it was come one, come all, so she could hardly not invite them or they'd feel left out. Then she thrust an invite in my hand and told me to ring if I found I couldn't make it. It was only when she'd gone and I read the invite properly I realised she was Lady Mayhew, wife of General Sir Edward Mayhew, the GOC, chief of the old farts.'

‘And she giggled? Really?'

‘Truly she did. Told me later she thought what I'd said was a hoot. So I'm going to be like her, when I finally have to grow up, and not be stuffy and pompous. Not,' she added, ‘that Will'll get to such dizzying heights, but I still don't want to become like Mrs N.'

‘Oh, me neither,' said Maddy with feeling, casting a glance in the direction of Susie and Mrs N, now both in earnest conversation. ‘Caro?' she asked.

‘Hmm?'

‘You know what you said about casual babysitting?'

Caro nodded. ‘Of course.'

‘Could I ask a huge favour? I mean…'

‘Spit it out.'

‘You know you offered to have Nate, so I could get my hair cut?'

Caro nodded. ‘And I meant it. Go and ring them now, Zoë's number is on the noticeboard in the hall. Book an appointment with Jenna. Pick any day except next Thursday, as my mother-in-law is coming for the weekend and I'll
have
to blitz the house.'

‘Really?'

‘Yes, I really
will
have to do housework. Rumours of me being a slut are all true, but this time I'm going to have to knuckle down.'

Maddy giggled. ‘That's not what I meant and you know it.'

‘Just phone them. Now!'

Maddy disappeared into the hall to find the list of numbers for the garrison facilities. Just as she left the room Nathan began to cry again.

‘Go,' said Caro, picking up the baby. When Maddy returned, Nathan was giggling.

‘Laughter, not tears – that's a first. You are a genius,' she said, although she felt a tiny twinge of jealousy that Nathan was being such a perfect baby for Caro and not for her. She pushed the thought aside. ‘Tomorrow, ten o'clock,' she said. She held her hands out for Nate, who Caro passed over. It was nice to cuddle a happy smiling child for once.

‘Perfect. Drop Nathan around any time. Now, come and meet Philippa, before we all have to pay attention and learn how to make Christmas cake – not that I'm going to; that's why we have Sainsbury's. Honestly, if God had meant me to crochet my own sandals and be an earth mother, He wouldn't have invented supermarkets. And don't worry, despite the snotty kids, Philly is one of us and isn't the least bit khaki-minded.'

Maddy smiled happily. She was really glad Caro had cajoled her into coming to the Wives' Club and that she was getting to know more of her neighbours. Life was going to be so much easier with a bunch of friends she knew she could lean on if necessary – even if some of them did have khaki blood running through their veins.

Lee waited outside the Dismounted Close Combat Trainer, feeling happy that he was going to be spending the second half of the morning playing on what was essentially an enormous video game. And knowing he was going to be busy was going to take his mind off Chrissie. Why had she had that sudden change in attitude? What had he said? Or done? It didn't add up. One moment she'd been dead keen to run with him and now… Over the past few days he'd sent her texts, asking if she was up for a run sometime during the following week and hadn't had an answer to one of them. He was worried that he'd done something to upset her. He hoped he hadn't because he really liked her. He tried reassuring himself with the thought that she might have lost or broken her phone, but he knew that was unlikely. Lee sighed and pushed the worries to the back of his mind as his section corporal arrived and unlocked the door to the indoor laser range.

The twenty or so guys in Lee's section filed in behind the corporal who flicked on the light switches, went to the control panel to the side of the screen and began selecting the program. While he did that, Lee's section took up their firing positions, grabbed their weapons and waited for the instructions.

‘This is the way to spend time on the range,' said Lee's neighbour, Jack, who was lying next to him on the firing point.

‘Because it's where the deer and the antelope play?' asked Lee.

‘Twat,' said Jack, grinning all the same. ‘Who wants to be on a real range in real weather, when we can be tucked up in here in the warm and dry?'

‘Listen in,' shouted the corporal, interrupting all conversations. ‘Twenty rounds at the target, in your own time. Fire.'

In front of each firing position the screen showed a line of Figure 11 targets, the standard army target used on training ranges everywhere: a cartoon of a ferocious-looking soldier, charging forwards, bayonet fixed and with an evil snarl on his face. The lads picked up their electronic SA80 rifles and began firing at the screen, just like they were playing on a giant Wii. Each target showed realistic bullet holes as and when the soldiers scored a hit. Once all twenty electronic rounds had been fired from all the guns, the picture changed, new instructions were issued and they began firing again. This time they weren't aiming at static targets, but at completely realistic video footage of enemy troops thundering over open ground, hell-bent on annihilating Lee and his mates.

Even though Lee knew that this was all make-believe, that it was just a computer-generated image, he found his heart rate rocketing and sweat breaking out on his back and under his arms. Ten minutes later, the exercise was over and Lee felt drained. Suddenly he completely understood how Chrissie must have felt in the hellish exercise involving the fake injuries and make-believe traumas. No wonder it had all been a bit much for the poor lass.

The scenario on the screen changed to a different battle scene and once again his section had to fight for their lives, while the computer scored who made the most direct hits on the available targets. By the time Lee's section had finished their training session on the DCCT, and they'd been given their scores – ‘Well done, Perkins, good shooting' – he felt wrung out. On the other hand, it was lunchtime so plenty of time to recover before the afternoon session on helicopter recognition.

Lee made his way out of the warm comfort of the DCCT range and headed for the cookhouse. As he collected his chosen meal of steak pie and chips he saw Immi sitting at a table on her own.

‘Mind if I join you?' he asked as he plonked his tray down.

‘Be my guest.'

Lee hooked a chair out with his foot. ‘No Chrissie?'

‘Nope.'

‘Is she on leave?' asked Lee innocently.

Immi shook her head. ‘No, I don't know what she's getting up to, as she's working all hours down at the medical centre. I hardly see her these days except for when she's yelling at me in the gym, or making me run up and down Brandon Hill. Honestly, that woman's a sadist.'

‘So why's she so busy?'

‘Search me. If she isn't working, she's out training with one sports team or another. Is there any sport she doesn't want to play?' Immi shook her head in bewilderment. ‘And when she's not doing that, she's trying to get me through my BFT, but then I'm too knackered to chat. Honestly, even though we share a barrack room, we spend half our time communicating by text. In fact,' she pulled her phone out of her pocket, ‘I've just had one telling me to meet her at the gym this evening again.' Immi sighed. ‘I know she means well but I wish she wasn't so sodding keen. I only need to pass my fitness test, not set some sort of world record.'