The UnTied Kingdom (11 page)

‘Which the doc examined this morning and pronounced fine,’ said the male Private, behind her.

‘Well, I’m sure you’re not supposed to run on it, not straight away.’

‘You sprained it last week,’ said the other Private, a very young girl with a long and stupid name Eve couldn’t currently remember. She looked vaguely familiar –maybe the girl who’d driven them around Southwark. Eve wasn’t sure. She’d been trying not to think about that day.

‘How do you know?’

‘I was there.’ After a second or two’s silence, she went on, ‘I was with Major Harker when you fell out of the sky.’

‘Right – look, what’s your name?’

‘Watling-Coburg,’ said the girl, a touch defensively. Eve couldn’t blame her.

‘Right, Private … Watling-Coburg, so can you tell him I wasn’t spying?’

‘I couldn’t say what you were doing,’ said the girl, infuriatingly.

‘Hey, can you fly?’ the other Private asked.

‘With the right wings.’

‘No, seriously?’

‘Anyone can fly with the right wings, Banks,’ said the girl to whom Eve was cuffed. She started jogging again.

‘Oh, come on, I’m in real honest pain here!’ Eve protested.

‘Shoulda seen my feet, first week in training,’ Banks said. ‘Blimey, what a state. Thought I’d never walk again.’

‘Me, too,’ said Watling-Coburg. ‘Hours and hours of marching in full gear. I thought they were trying to kill us.’

‘Well, that’s what the army’s about, ain’t it, Lance-Corporal?’ Banks said. ‘Train you up and send you off to be shot?’

‘Banks,’ she said sharply.

‘Well, it is, isn’t it? We’re the infantry. Cannon fodder.’

‘Well, that’s not why we’re here now,’ the Lance-Corporal said.

‘Yeah, but why are we here? I mean, us three?’

Us three
. Clearly, Eve wasn’t included.

‘You tell me, Banks,’ the Lance-Corporal said.

‘Werrl, I reckon you’re here ’cos he needs someone to keep me and Tallulah in line,’ Banks said.

Tallulah Watling-Coburg?
Jesus Christ, her parents must have hated her
.

‘That’s probably right,’ she replied. She gestured to the white band on her arm. ‘See this, Private?’

‘Yes sir, I see, sir.’

‘This means that in the absence of a sergeant, I’m your NCO.’

‘Absolutely, sir, yes, sir.’

‘And stop making fun of me, Banks.’

‘Yes – uh – sir. Anyway, I reckon that’s why you’re here. And I’m here ’cos I’m a crack shot–’

‘And also because you’re so modest,’ Tallulah murmured, as they slowed to a walk again.

‘Yeah, and that too. And, because the Major said we was gonna steal something, right, and that’s what I’m good at.’

‘Stealing?’ Tallulah said.

‘Yep. ‘Course, I’m reformed now, on account of being caught and hauled up by the magistrate.’

‘Let me guess,’ Eve said. ‘It was death or the army, and you’re wishing you’d chosen death?’

Banks laughed. ‘Nah, miss, it was jail or the army. Course, I’d forgotten we was at war …’

‘How could you forget?’ Tallulah said.

‘I have a very sunny personality and am always looking upon the bright side of life,’ Banks announced self-importantly, making Tallulah giggle.

Private Joker, Eve thought. Well, at least he might cheer things up. Harker seemed to have lost all traces of Will, the nice guy she’d chatted to in the hospital, and turned into a surly bastard. Although this might have more to do with the presence of the humourless Charlie, who had ignored Eve for half the night and left her alone, chained to her bunk, for the rest of it, while she went for a drink.

‘And we all know why you’re here,’ Banks said to Tallulah, and there was a chilly silence. Eve felt the Lance-Corporal tense beside her.

‘Do you?’ Tallulah said, ice in her voice.

‘Yeah. It’s ’cos you can drive and speak French.’

The Lance-Corporal relaxed.

‘And also ’cos your sister is in charge of the regiment,’ Banks went on, and the Lance-Corporal snapped, ‘That’s enough, Banks.’

But Eve, who wasn’t a soldier and was rather beyond caring at this point anyway, turned her head and said, ‘Really?’

‘
Yes
,’ Tallulah Watling-Coburg said, and Eve turned back, realising that anyone who’d grown up with that sort of name would have nerves of steel as a matter of course.

Right then, Harker came trotting up, turned and actually jogged backwards, facing them. He was smiling.

‘Having fun?’ he said to Eve, who stuck her tongue out at him. He grinned. ‘Right then, squad. Back in the wagon. We’re not making good enough time.’

‘Thank God for that,’ Eve said loudly, as they finally stopped running and the wagon came to a halt behind them.

‘Not enjoying it?’ Harker asked. He looked like he was having a whale of a time. Great, so he was one of those hideous people who actually got cheered up by exercise. Either that, or he was enjoying her misery. Probably, she thought darkly, it was both.

She gave him a poisonous look. ‘My ankle hurts.’

‘Shame.’

And that was all she got. She was hauled back into the wagon, which if Eve had been feeling polite she’d have described as cosy. But she didn’t feel like being polite, not remotely, so the words that came immediately to mind were more like cramped, dark, and uncomfortable.

Charlie, Harker’s very own right hand, took the reins again, with Harker and the doctor seating themselves inside. Eve caught the doctor’s eye and tried for sympathy. ‘I’m not sure my ankle is fully healed yet,’ she said.

‘Um,’ he said. His eyes darted towards Harker, which infuriated Eve. ‘Well, when I examined it this morning, it seemed fine.’

‘Yes, but that was before Captain Sadistic here made me go running for an hour.’

‘Hey, I object to that,’ Harker said, lighting up another of his damn cigarettes. ‘I’m a major, not a captain.’

‘But you’ll admit to the sadistic part?’

He gave her a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. ‘This is the army,’ he reminded her.

‘And you are a vicious fiend from hell,’ Eve said, which seemed to amuse him. She turned her head away, staring pointedly out of the back of the wagon at the rutted, unmade road which jarred and jolted her spine. None of the others seemed to mind, or even notice, but Eve supposed that was something else the army instilled. Endurance.

Some time around midday, long after the paltry dawn breakfast Eve had been given had worn off, Harker called a halt and ordered Tallulah to distribute lunch. This consisted of bread that was already a little stale, slimy slices of ham, and water.

Tallulah caught her looking at it and said, ‘Be thankful we’re not further into the journey. Then all we’ll have is dried meat, and it’s twice as bad.’

‘Marvellous. And how long is this journey expected to take?’ Eve asked.

Tallulah shook her head. ‘I honestly don’t know,’ she said.

After lunch, which was eaten by the side of the muddy road, Harker announced that they’d be marching again.

‘Okay, now that’s just bad for digestion,’ Eve said.

‘Tough,’ Harker said. ‘Form up!’

Eve refused to move.

The Lance-Corporal tugged on the handcuffs, which hurt, especially as she was clearly much stronger than Eve, but she still refused to move.

‘Sir,’ the Lance-Corporal said, ‘problem.’

Eve, who would have folded her arms if one of them hadn’t been attached to the furiously tugging Lance-Corporal, stood her ground and glared at Harker. He heaved a heavy sigh and said, ‘All right, come here.’

They did, and when Harker took the handcuff key from his pocket Eve nearly sang in relief. He unfastened the cuff from the Lance-Corporal, who shook her wrist and gave him a grateful look … and then fastened it on his own wrist.

‘What?’ Eve shrieked. ‘I have to be chained to
you
now?’

‘Shut up,’ Harker said, ‘or I’ll chain you to the back of the wagon and gallop the horses. And don’t think I won’t do it, ’cos I will.’

He probably would
, Eve thought, resigning herself to trying to jog at his pace. It wasn’t fair, he was a lot taller than her and he’d have a longer natural stride, and – wait, he was climbing into the driver’s seat of the wagon.

‘Oh, frabjous day,’ she moaned, taking the weight off her aching and, she suspected, bleeding feet.

‘Squad,’ Harker yelled to the men, who were now being led by Captain Haran. Charlie had taken up position at the back of the wagon. ‘Quick
march
!’

They set off at a fast walking pace, and Harker flapped the reins in such a manner that the horses followed suit.

Eve fumed for a while, staring straight ahead at the small group of marching soldiers, watching as Tallulah, who was quite short, kept up with Banks, who was quite tall, while they followed Daz, who seemed to want to go at his own pace, and the Lance-Corporal, who stopped him from doing so.

‘She’s a good soldier, Martindale,’ Harker remarked. ‘Make a great sergeant.’

So that was her name. Eve hmphed.

‘She’ll probably get it when we get back, too. Only trouble is, I’ve nowhere to put her, and I don’t want to lose her. Suppose I could transfer someone else out.’

Eve ignored him, and started unlacing her trainers to get some air to her feet. Yep: at least one blister had burst, and the blood was soaking through her sock.

Unconcerned, Harker lit yet another cigarette.

‘Where do you even get them all from?’ Eve said, waving away a puff of smoke.

‘I buy ’em. What d’you think?’

Eve glared. ‘No, I mean … you can’t grow tobacco in this country, can you? You need a hotter environment for it.’ Certainly hotter than this weather. Charlie had procured for Eve a rather old and suspiciously patched redcoat, which made her feel like a gigantic target, but at least it was warmer than her t-shirt.

‘Yeah. They come from the Americas.’

‘Can you afford that?’ Eve had no idea what the country’s economy was like, but between the rationing and the lack of telecommunications, it didn’t look particularly strong.

‘Got bugger all else to spend my pay on,’ Harker said.

‘No, I mean – oh, never mind.’

They drove on a while longer. Eve couldn’t quite manage to guess where they might be; she didn’t even know where they were going. North of London was all she knew. Nothing at all looked familiar, and there were no road signs.

After a while, Harker said, ‘Have you ever killed anyone, Eve?’

Eve, who’d been leaning against the side of the wagon, massaging her feet and idly watching the fields roll by, sat up in surprise. ‘What kind of question is that?’

‘A valid one. Have you?’

‘No!’

Harker shrugged. ‘I have. Charlie has.’ He pointed to the soldiers marching ahead of them. ‘Martindale has. Banks I ain’t sure about, but being a poacher I wouldn’t be surprised if he had before he joined us. And Daz, poor sod, probably has, even if he didn’t mean to. Only one I can say for certain hasn’t ever killed anyone is Tallulah, and that’s ’cos she’s only been out of Basic Training a week.’ He considered her for a moment. ‘Although if she’s anything like her sister, she was probably born lethal.’

‘I feel so comforted,’ said Eve, who honestly hadn’t given much thought before that to the idea that she was travelling with a bunch of paid killers.

Why should I care? It’s not real. None of this can possibly be real. I hit my head and I’m in a coma.

Only, the presence of the large man to whom she was handcuffed was so utterly real that she couldn’t bring herself to believe she was just dreaming. She could smell the damp wool of his jacket, the pungent smoke of his cigarette, the earthy scent of horses and leather and the faint, acrid scent of something she thought might be gunpowder. She felt the heat of his rough skin whenever his hand brushed against hers. When she breathed in, smoke crackled inside her lungs.

If I’m not dreaming then what is this? Have I gone mad? I must have gone mad.

I’m sitting next to a self-confessed killer. Either the world’s gone mad or I have.
Somehow neither thought made her feel better. Fear, a cold nasty fog that crept around inside her, rose up inside her chest.

‘Yeah, well, you should. Reason being this. Do you know how many people, civilians, are killed by strangers? Not many. People only commit murder when they’ve a damn good reason to.’

‘Or if they’re insane,’ Eve said, wondering if that qualified her. She shoved down the fear. It was no good to her now.

‘Yes, all right, but my point is this. People, ordinary sane people, don’t go around killing strangers, do they?’

‘Not unless they’re in the army.’

‘Ah,’ Harker said. ‘Yeah. That’s it. Not unless they’re in the army. Where it’s our job to go around killing complete strangers, often en masse. And that’s not something a normal person is any good at. Now, in peacetime, we can happily hire all those psychos who like killing people, although it tends to make a bloke a bit uneasy, sharing a barracks with some bugger who wants to know what your insides look like. In wartime, though, we’ve a bit of a shortage. Not enough volunteers. Got to start recruiting from the populace.’