The Songbird and the Soldier (13 page)

He sounded so sad. When he had been with her, he had felt like the love of her life and she had been so happy every minute she had spent with him. But then he had gone, and there was Dean: the Adonis she had long held a torch for, who, by fair means or foul, had lost her, but who now made her question everything she believed to be true. She wondered again how she could actually get to the truth. If only she had a contact on The Patch, but Andy only gave her details to them, not the other way around, and now it was possible the same people who had met her with Andy had seen her kissing Dean! Sam gazed in desperation towards the heavens. Why her? Why did nothing ever go right for her? Maybe Chloe’s chap could shed some light, but then what on earth could she say? ‘Which of your mates is a bastard?’ No, this one she was going to have to work out for herself.

She looked back at the letter. Well, she thought, if he’s going to be too busy to write to me, then he’s going to be too busy to read, so it won’t make much difference if I wait a few days before writing back, just in case anything useful comes to light. There were only three more days before the summer holidays. Then she would be free to spend her time how she pleased. But two days after that, Kate rang with some awful news.

Dean had been shot. Sam replaced the handset and slumped down onto the floor. He had been hit while out on patrol and had already been flown home to England. His parents had gone up to Birmingham to be with him, and suddenly Sam knew where she had to be. She dashed off a quick note to Andy.

She knew it was far less than he deserved, but right then she could manage no more. All she could think about at that moment was Dean.

The last day of term passed in a dreamlike state. Sam cruised through her usual routine on autopilot and at the end, when the bell rang and everybody started to leave, she realised that she could barely remember anything that had happened there that day.

Most members of staff were meeting at the local pub for a drink to celebrate the end of term, but Sam could no longer join in. Instead she cycled straight home and got herself ready for the following day.

On Friday morning, the first day of the summer holidays, she was on the train as soon as the rush hour had passed, arriving in Birmingham before lunch. Sam could not remember where Kate had said Dean had gone, so she just found the taxi rank and explained her situation to the chap in the front of the queue. The language barrier was a bit of a problem at first, but before long they seemed to understand each other and she was cruising through the streets of Birmingham on her way to find Dean.

She was deposited on the pavement in front of the most awe-inspiring building Sam had ever seen. It was huge. It looked almost space age, like something out of one of those American dramas she had occasionally caught on TV, not English at all. She thanked the taxi driver and hesitantly walked in.

After explaining her situation to several different people, Sam finally arrived outside the ward. She stopped. Her heart was thumping like a steam train at speed and her hands were sweating. She looked around and found an intercom. She pressed the button and a voice answered. Sam said who she was and who she had come to see. Silence. Up until this point it had never even occurred to Sam that she might not be allowed in. “Wait there, please,” the voice said.

A few moments later a woman came out and introduced herself. It was Dean’s mother. Mrs Fletcher asked if Sam was Dean’s girlfriend and Sam wasn’t sure how to answer. “I’m not entirely sure,” she said. “How is he?”

Mrs Fletcher looked at her for a long moment, as if weighing her up, and then she mellowed. “He’ll be okay. How did you hear, may I ask?”

“Kate told me. Your next door neighbour?”

“Oh, yes.”

“Will I be able to see him?”

Dean’s mum smiled sympathetically. “I’m afraid you can’t just yet. He had to have a second operation this morning on his leg, so he’s sleeping right now. Just his father and I are allowed at the present, but there is visiting this afternoon if he’s up to it. Are you on your own?”

Sam nodded.

“Then why don’t you go off and get something to eat, have a wander round and get back here for about two and we’ll see how he is then.”

Sam had to know how bad it was. “His leg? How bad is it?”

Mrs Fletcher was serious. “He’s still in one piece; that’s the main thing,” she said. “He took a blow to the head, but that seems to have settled down now. He was lucky, I suppose.”

Sam nodded. Mrs Fletcher gave Sam directions to the hospital canteen and went back inside.

Sam wasn’t hungry, so she walked back outside for some fresh air and to calm her nerves for a bit.

The weather was kind outside and she walked around the grounds of the hospital and arrived at a cool grassy bank at the side. She sat down and applied her mind to people watching for a short time. They came in all shapes and sizes. There were old couples with sticks walking up to the hospital with a resigned air; worried parents with young children huffing and puffing at the world in general and in amongst them all were men and women of the armed forces in all different uniforms walking purposefully through, immaculately turned out and polite.

When her stomach started to rumble, Sam wandered back inside and walked around the hospital shop, looking at the magazines and cards on the racks. She bought a quiz book and a tuna roll and attempted to focus her mind on whiling away the time, but it was no good. Her nerves were twisting her insides and she could think about nothing else than seeing Dean. Finally she threw the remains of the roll in the bin and walked outside, back into the fresh air, and paced about the grounds, walking up and down the various pathways and checking her watch impatiently until it said it would soon be two.

Outside the ward, Sam hovered, her nerves threatening to choke her. At five past two, Mrs Fletcher came out. She smiled. “He’s awake,” she said, “and very eager to see you.” She held out her hand and Sam followed her through. Outside his room, they stopped. Mrs Fletcher turned to Sam. “Are you ready?” Sam nodded. Mrs Fletcher squeezed her hand for a moment. “I’ll take you in and then, if you like, his dad and I can pop out and get some fresh air and give you two a bit of time on your own.”

Sam shook her head. “No, please. I don’t want to turf you out-”

“Nonsense. Dean would never forgive us.” She smiled and pushed open the door. “We’re coming in. You’d better be decent.”

Apart from getting there, Sam had given little thought to actually speaking to Dean and she hadn’t expected him to look so good.

Dean was resting back, his bronzed lean body set a striking contrast against the crisp white sheets. His left leg was covered in bandages, with the sheet draped around him to the waist. All this exposed flesh and his sleep-ruffled hair made him more endearing than ever. He was a little thinner than she remembered, but considering everything he had been through he was looking inexcusably good. He smiled and Sam was lost for something to say.

“You remember Sam, Mum? She used to play round Katy’s house years ago. Remember? I got into trouble for squirting her with the hose over the fence that time.”

“Oh yes! Sorry Sam, I didn’t recognise you. It’s my age. You’ll have to excuse me.”

Sam was staring at Dean in wonder. He remembered. Until then she had had no sign from him that he had ever remembered her from back then and he seemed to know it.

Dean beamed, obviously pleased with himself. “Well don’t stand on ceremony, Sam, sit down.”

Sam blinked and looked around for a seat. She went to sit down on the chair furthest from the bed.

“No, you take this one, dear,” his father said, getting up from the chair on the far side of the room, next to Dean.

Sam moved awkwardly round and sat down where she’d been put.

His mum and dad nodded to each other and then smiled at Sam. “We’ll be back in a bit. You two have a nice chat now,” and then they were gone.

So she was actually there, with Dean. Suddenly Sam could not think of a single thing to say.

“You’re not afraid to be left alone with me, are you?” Dean asked, obviously amused at her discomfort. “I’m not exactly in a position to be a threat right now.” He indicated his bandaged leg.

“How is it?” she asked.

“Not so bad. It could have been worse.”

Sam nodded thoughtfully. “What happened, or would you rather not-?”

“No, it’s all right. We took fire while we were on patrol, that’s all. They must have been lying in the fields waiting for us. If the Prof’s team had been where they were meant to have been they would have spotted them, but there you go. At least I’ve still got ten fingers and ten toes. Smithy got it worse than me.” He paused and looked at the expression on Sam’s face. “Sorry. I forgot you and he…”

“No. It’s fine.”

“No. I shouldn’t have said anything. Forgive me.” He moved his position within the bed and his discomfort showed.

“Is it hurting?” Sam asked.

“No. Not really. I’ll be up and at ’em again soon. Got to get back out there, haven’t I? The lads’ll be missing me.”

Sam was astounded. “What?”

“Well, probably not this tour.”

Dean tilted his head slightly and his eyes searched her face for a moment. “So what are you doing here then, Sam?” he said.

Sam was speechless. What the Hell was she doing there? Ever since she’d heard about Dean’s return home she had been desperate to see him, but now she was actually there, what did she expect to happen? Her mouth moved in silence.

“I’m sorry; that was rude. I’m glad you came, really.” He held out a hand and took hold of hers. It stayed there, caressing hers, and if Sam’s head had found thinking difficult before, it was definitely in trouble now.

“I had to make sure you were all right,” she said at last, when the silence between them had stretched on long enough.

“And am I?” he asked, gazing at her steadily.

Sam felt uncomfortable. She nodded.

Dean smiled. “Good. I’ve missed you, Sam.”

Sam’s insides squeezed so tightly she could barely breathe. Then, as if coming to her rescue, a nurse from the ward chose that moment to come in. Dean broke away.

“Corporal Fletcher, you’re looking a lot better. How are you feeling?”

“Just dandy, thank you ma’am,” he said, turning on his usual charm.

The nurse moved alongside him and wrapped a cuff around his arm. It started to inflate and Dean began to talk. The nurse popped a thermometer in his mouth and smiled at Sam. The machine whirred and made a series of beeps and clicks and the nurse wrote down her findings. She checked the leg below the bandage and enquired after his level of pain. “I think you’re up to putting some clothes on now, aren’t you, Corporal? Especially with a lady present.” She opened his cupboard and took out a neatly folded khaki T-shirt. She handed it to him and Dean put it on. “Much better,” she said, and with that she disappeared again as quickly as she had arrived.

“There’s no slacking in here, is there?” Sam said.

“No. You wouldn’t pass me that water over there, would you?” He pointed to the jug of water and glass on the table that had been wheeled out of the way when the nurse came in.

Sam looked across the bed and, leaning over him, she picked up the water and glass and began to pour some for him. A muffled groan escaped him and Sam realised she was leaning her stomach against his bandaged leg. She pulled away instantly, mortified by what she had done. “Oh, God, I’m so sorry. Are you all right? Should I get a doctor?”

Dean tried his best to placate her. “I’m fine, honestly, Sam. Don’t make such a fuss. I’m okay, really.”

How stupid could she have been? How thoughtless? She apologised profusely. Dean patted the bed beside him.

“What? No. I’m not allowed to.”

He gave her a determined look. “Sit.”

Sam sat down, careful not to press on anything.

Dean took both her hands in his. “I’m fine. Relax.” Sam took a deep breath and let it out. “Better?” he asked.

Sam nodded. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

“Sure,” he said. “But I can think of something that would make me feel better.” His eyes sparkled, daring her to ask.

Sam didn’t take many seconds to understand his meaning, but decided to brazen it out. “I’m not sure you’re up to anything like that, soldier.”

“I was only thinking of a cool flannel,” he said. “What were you thinking of?”

Sam was mortified and blushed from head to toe.

“Well I’m game if you are,” he said. “But we’d better be quick; my parents will be back any second.”

Sam gasped in horror and tentatively thumped him on the arm.

“No? Oh well, your decision.” He chuckled. “But I’ll take a kiss.” He pulled her to him, releasing her hands to rest against his chest and taking her head in his gentle grip. Sam’s brain was screaming out to break free, but her body was bending to another’s will and suddenly she was kissing him.

As the burden of guilt caught up with her and the heat of the kiss intensified, Sam pulled away.

“I’m sorry, Sam. I had no right to kiss you like that. It’s just when I’m with you I fall under your spell and I just can’t help myself. You have my permission to wallop me if I try to do anything like that again. You will come and see me again, won’t you? It would really help me if you did.”

Sam said she’d see if she could manage it, but she couldn’t promise anything and a moment later there was a knock on the door and Dean’s parents were back again.

The four of them talked pleasantly for a couple of minutes, then they said their goodbyes and Sam and Dean’s parents walked together out of the ward.

On the way down the stairs Mrs Fletcher asked Sam if she was staying in Birmingham for the night. They had been up for two days to make sure Dean was going to be okay and satisfied he’d live; they were going back home tonight. Outside, Sam pulled out her mobile and rang her mum, who agreed to fetch Humph and keep him until Sam got back, but she was not at all sure she was happy with the reason why. Uncomfortably, Sam ended the call and gave Dean’s mum the nod to call their hotel and check the availability for that night. Sam shared a taxi back to the hotel on the Hagley Road and said goodbye to Dean’s parents.

“Thank you for today,” Sam said.

“No, thank you. It’s a hard thing to have your own flesh and blood injured so far away from home. We can’t be with him every second of the day, more’s the pity. So it’s a real comfort to find out that there is someone else who cares so much about him. He’s really taken with you, you know. I’m so glad he’s got you. Watch out for him while we’re away, Sam.” His mum kissed her on the cheek and his dad smiled and said goodbye. “We’ll see you back home soon, yes?” Sam nodded and waved them away.

In her room, Sam busied herself looking around, checking out the facilities. The bathroom was clean, if a little tired. The bed was dressed in neutral colours with just a splash of burgundy here and there. There was a tea tray on the desk, with a pair of cups and saucers on it and, to Sam’s delight, two tiny packets of shortbread biscuits. The full-length curtains at the back of the room were open and Sam walked over to have a look out at her view. The car park. Oh well, she thought, she wasn’t exactly there for the scenery and at least it was quieter around the back than the front by the busy main road. She pulled the curtains closed and sat down on the bed.