Man Down

by Nathan Burrows

  ‘No problem, I’ll go and get a cup of tea at the medical centre. One of my friends is working now, and at least he knows how to make a decent cup of tea.’ She attempted a smile, but he either didn’t notice or ignored her.

  Adams opened the passenger door and climbed out of the car without another word. He slung his bag over his shoulder and disappeared through the front door of the accommodation.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Lizzie whispered to herself as she watched the door close behind him. She’d not been expecting that response at all to her question about Sophie. Something had obviously gone wrong if he’d not asked her. But what?

  Adams walked into the large accommodation blocks, lined with bunk beds down both sides of the room. He took a deep breath. What a dump. Not just a dump, but a very hot one that smelt of sweat.

  It hadn’t taken Lizzie long to ask him about Sophie, but he’d hoped for a little bit longer before he had to face that one. He knew he was going to have to tell her what had happened, but wanted to do it on his own terms. When the time was right.

  With the exception of an elderly Cypriot cleaner, who was moving water around with a mop that looked as if it was almost as old as she was, the room was empty. Adams chose the bottom bunk in one of the corners of the room and pulled his sleeping bag out of his rucksack to claim the bunk as his, German holidaymaker style. Ignoring the cleaner, Adams stripped down to his boxer shorts and headed for the showers at the far end of the room. As he walked past the cleaner, he smiled at her but received nothing but a stare in return.

  ‘Miserable cow,’ he muttered as he walked into the bathroom. At least the floor was clean in here, he thought as he stripped off and started one of the showers. He’d forgotten his flip-flops when he had packed his bag for coming back out. While he showered, Adams thought about his week at home. To say that it hadn’t worked out as he had planned was an enormous understatement. At one point, he had even wished that he had stayed in Afghanistan instead of going home.

  One thing Adams did need to do was to apologise to Lizzie for being so abrupt when she’d asked about his week. He knew that it wasn’t her fault that he’d had a crap time, and he also knew he was out of order talking to her the way that he had.

  Once he had towelled himself dry, Adams wrapped the towel around his middle before walking back through the dormitory towards his bunk. As he passed the cleaner, he gave her an even broader smile but received the same stony stare in reply. He reached his bunk and unwrapped the towel before hanging it on a hook on the side of the bunk bed. With satisfaction, he heard a disapproving ‘tut’ from the cleaner behind him. Adams was tempted to scratch one of his buttocks, but he thought that would be childish.

  Adams pulled his shorts and T-shirt from the bag and threw them on. He still had ten minutes before Lizzie would be back, so he walked outside to read his book while he waited for her. He sat on a plastic garden chair that was outside the accommodation block, and tilted his head towards the sun, enjoying the sunshine on his face.

  Lizzie thought that Adams was asleep when she pulled up in the car outside the accommodation block. He was sprawled in a chair, dressed in a wrinkled blue T-shirt and bright red swimming shorts. She laughed when she saw that he still had his combat boots on. Lizzie got out of the car and walked over to him.

  ‘Hey, sleeping beauty. Wake up,’ she said, shaking Adams's shoulder.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said, waking with a start. ‘I must have nodded off.’

  ‘No problem.’ Lizzie pressed a bottle of water in his hand. ‘Here’s a cold one for you,’ she said.

  ‘Cheers,’ Adams replied. ‘You must be a mind reader.’

  ‘Come on, then,’ Lizzie said. ‘Limassol is waiting.’ Lizzie looked down at Adams's boots. ‘And hopefully, there’s a shoe shop open somewhere.’

  ‘I know, I can’t believe it,’ he said. ‘I forgot my sandals.’

  Lizzie turned and walked back towards the car as Adams got to his feet and followed her.

  ‘I’m sure we can find somewhere that sells sandals,’ she called over her shoulder. ‘Mind you, I’m not sure what colour would go with bright red and blue.’

  Lizzie started the engine, but before she could drive off, she felt Adams hand on her arm. She looked over at him.

  ‘Lizzie,’ he said, squeezing her forearm. ‘Mate, I just wanted to say sorry for biting your head off earlier.’ He gave her a half-smile. ‘It was out of order, and I apologise. Let’s just say that my week at home didn’t turn out how I wanted it to.’

  ‘Oh, that’s okay,’ Lizzie said. ‘I wasn’t trying to be nosey, I just wanted–’

  ‘Lizzie, please,’ Adams interrupted. ‘I’m sorry, okay? Can we just leave it there? We’ve got the rest of the tour to talk about it, so can we just enjoy the rest of the day?’

  ‘Okay, that’s fine. Apology accepted,’ she said with a slight frown. ‘But you will have to buy me a couple of drinks to make up for it.’

  ‘Yep, that’s a deal,’ Adams replied. She glanced across to see him smiling, but it didn’t reach his eyes. With a sigh, she put the car into gear.

  They left the main gate at RAF Akrotiri and drove past a small row of dilapidated shops just outside the base. Lizzie stopped the car outside one of them and turned to Adams.

  ‘What size feet have you got?’

  ‘Er, size nine,’ Adams replied. Lizzie undid her seatbelt and got out of the car.

  ‘Back in a minute,’ she shouted back to him.

  A couple of minutes later, Lizzie returned to the car with a paper bag. As she got in, she threw the bag in Adams's lap.

  ‘There you go,’ she said. ‘They should be a bit less conspicuous than combat boots.’ Lizzie watched Adams as he opened the bag and pulled out a pair of pink espadrilles.

  ‘Oh, wow. They’re lovely.’ He turned them over in his hand to look at them. ‘And in my size, too.’ Lizzie laughed as she drove off.

  As they drove across the salt flats towards Limassol, Adams asked Lizzie what she had got up to during her week off.

  ‘Not much, to be honest,’ she said. ‘I spent a day at a spa, had a massage, got my hair cut. That sort of thing.’

  ‘I did notice the hair,’ Adams said. ‘Very nice.’ Lizzie looked at Adams with a frown.

  ‘You did not,’ she said. ‘Blokes never notice that sort of thing.’

  ‘I did too,’ Adams protested. ‘I noticed it the minute I saw you at the terminal. I just didn’t say anything.’

  ‘Yeah, right,’ she said. They drove on in companionable silence for a few minutes.

  ‘So,’ Adams said. ‘Did many young waiter’s hearts get broken, then?’

  ‘None at all, Adams,’ Lizzie replied. ‘What sort of girl do you think I am?’ She looked at him with a mock-innocent expression.

  ‘Well,’ Adams continued with a grin. ‘Seeing as you’re not walking like a cowboy, I’d say you’ve had a bit of a dry spell.’

  ‘Paul Adams, that’s no way for an officer to talk,’ Lizzie said, pressing her lips together to keep herself from laughing. ‘Besides, that’s a bit personal.’

  They drove on for a few more minutes. Lizzie had been back and forth across this road so many times in the last week that she knew it like the back of her hand. It stretched as straight as a Roman road across the salt flats, and apart from the runway was the only link that RAF Akrotiri had with the rest of the world. Lizzie turned to Adams.

  ‘Are you not going to apologise, then?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ he said. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘That was so sincere, it was frightening,’ Lizzie said with a laugh. She paused before continuing. ‘Can you keep a secret?’

  ‘Of course I can, Lizzie,’ Adams replied. ‘Mate, how long have we known each other?’ Lizzie paused again, before deciding to trust him.

  ‘I’ve not had so much as a bloody sniff all week,’ she said with a deadpan face. Adams looked at Lizzie before dissolving into laughter. ‘It’s not funny,’ she said.

  ‘Y
ou are such a lady,’ Adams said, still laughing. ‘Are you sure you don’t just frighten them off when they hear you speak in a Norfolk accent?’

  ‘No, seriously,’ Lizzie said. ‘I mean, when I went to that spa the other day there was some big IT conference on. About a hundred geeks all milling around in the bar where I was having lunch, and not one of them so much as looked at me.’

  ‘I’m sure quite a few of them did, Lizzie,’ Adams said. ‘You’re not made of wood, after all.’ Lizzie laughed.

  ‘Yeah, right,’ she replied. ‘These eyes aren’t painted on. I know.’

  ‘Right, my turn to be serious,’ Adams said. He waited until Lizzie looked across at him. ‘Lizzie, you are a good-looking woman. Trust me on that one.’ She looked at him and suddenly wasn’t sure what to say.

  33

  Emma packed up her sleeping bag and toiletries and looked around the room to make sure that it was tidy. She was supposed to be meeting up with Matthew in twenty minutes or so. She was looking forward to catching up with her cousin, as she’d not seen him for ages, but he worked as part of the ground crew at Brize Norton and from what she’d seen earlier, he might have had a busy shift.

  A few moments later, Emma walked into the bar on the ground floor of Gateway House and looked around to see if Matthew had arrived yet. She couldn’t see him, so went to the vending machine to get a drink while she waited. While she was searching in her purse for some change, she heard a voice behind her.

  ‘Hello, hello, hello,’ the voice said. Turning around, she saw her companion from lunchtime.

  ‘Hi, er, James wasn’t it?’ Emma said, even though she knew full well what his name was.

  ‘Yep, that’s me,’ he replied. ‘And you’re Emma.’

  ‘Well done, James,’ she said as she collected a can of Coke from the machine. ‘I bet you’re a fantastic policeman.’ He missed the irony in her voice and laughed slightly too loudly. Emma looked at her watch again. ‘Not being funny mate, but I’m waiting for someone.’

  ‘Do you mind if I keep you company until she gets here?’

  ‘He. Until he gets here.’

  ‘Oh, okay,’ James said, undeterred. ‘Until he gets here, then.’

  With a sigh, Emma figured that she might as well make the most of it. With any luck, Matthew would be here soon and could rescue her from James. The policeman seemed harmless enough, just a bit irritating.

  ‘So, James,’ she said. ‘How long are you going out to Bastion for?’

  ‘Er, not sure. One, maybe two, weeks.’ She looked at him with her eyebrows raised.

  ‘One or two bloody weeks?’ she said. ‘The way you were talking at lunchtime, it sounded like you were going out for a full tour.’ He just looked at her and smiled. ‘How come you’re only going for a bit, then?’ James nodded towards a group of men sitting around a table in the corner of the closed bar. He leaned towards her, not noticing as Emma leaned back at the same time.

  ‘I’m escorting that lot over there,’ he whispered. Emma looked at them, noticing that although they were all male, they didn’t look like they were military. One of them had a beard, another had a small ponytail, and most of them would struggle with the annual fitness test.

  ‘Who are they, then?’ she asked James.

  ‘Metropolitan,’ he replied, struggling to pronounce the word.

  Emma looked up at James, realising that he'd stopped talking. He was staring over her shoulder. She looked around and with relief saw Matthew standing behind her, his huge arms folded across his broad chest.

  ‘Matthew,’ Emma squealed before jumping off her stool. She stood on tiptoes and kissed him on the lips. ‘You’re late, but I’m so glad you’re here.’ When she saw the look of surprise on his face she kissed him again and made a small ‘shhh’ sound before turning back to James.

  ‘James, this is Matthew,’ she said, noting with satisfaction the policeman’s downcast expression. James nodded at the new arrival as Emma turned back to Matthew before continuing. ‘And Matthew, this is James.’ Matthew fixed James with a hard stare, making no effort to uncross his arms and offer the policeman a handshake. Thank God, Emma thought. Her cousin had got the message at last.

  ‘I was just going, in fact,’ James said with a disappointed look. ‘Nice to meet you, anyway.’ With a glance at the Flight Sergeant rank slides on Matthew’s uniform, he turned and walked towards the group of policemen in the corner.

  ‘That’ll be a pint you owe me, then,’ Matthew smiled at Emma. ‘But what would you have done if I’d kissed you back, though?’ he said. Emma looked at him with a mock frown.

  ‘Well, I’d have kneed you in the bollocks,’ she said, ‘because, for one, you’re married, and for two, you’re my cousin.’ Matthew laughed and fed some coins into the vending machine.

  When Matthew had a can and Emma had a chocolate bar, they made their way over to a spare table near the door of the bar. Emma saw Matthew look over at the group of policemen in the corner again and raise his eyebrows. As they sat down, he clinked his can against Emma’s.

  ‘Cheers, anyway,’ he said. ‘Good to see you, and sorry I’m late.’

  ‘No problem,’ Emma replied. ‘You got here just in time.’ She took a sip of her drink and looked at Matthew. He looked tired, although Emma knew his post heading up the ground crew that prepared the large transport planes was a busy one, so she wasn’t surprised. ‘Busy shift, then?’ she asked him.

  ‘Bloody nightmare,’ he replied. ‘We’d almost finished loading up the TriStar when that lot turfed up.’ Matthew nodded towards the policemen. ‘Then we got a phone call from the duty officer down at Air Command, who told us that the Commander in Chief wanted them to be extended “every possible courtesy” to get them on the next plane out to Kandahar.’

  ‘But they’re civvy coppers, though?’ Emma said. ‘One of them’s got a bloody ponytail.’

  ‘That chap there is the boss, the one with the flasher jacket on,’ Matthew said, causing Emma to spill her drink as she laughed. He reached into his pocket and threw her a handkerchief.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said, using it to dab at the table, still laughing.

  ‘He’s a nice enough bloke. Wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of him, though.’ Emma regarded Matthew, surprised. He was well over six feet tall and built like the proverbial brick shithouse. Matthew’s ears alone told the story of a fanatical rugby player, and Emma knew that he didn’t scare easily.

  ‘How do you mean?’ she asked him.

  ‘I don’t know. He’s just got a way about him that makes me nervous. Even though I’ve done nothing wrong. At least, nothing that he'd be interested in.’ Matthew sat back in his chair. ‘They’ve got loads of kit as well. We had to bump a load of pax off the plane to make room for it all as their stuff couldn’t go in the hold. Too sensitive, apparently.’

  ‘Pax?’

  ‘Sorry, passengers. I keep forgetting you’re Army,’ Matthew replied with a grin.

  ‘So why are they going to Kandahar anyway?’ Emma asked.

  ‘Well, here’s the thing.’ Matthew leaned towards her and dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. ‘I phoned home to let Caroline know I’d be late back, and I told her about the coppers. She then texted me about an hour later. You know her brother’s a copper, right?’

  ‘No, I’ve never met him,’ Emma replied. She’d met Matthew’s wife a couple of times, but never her brother.

  ‘Anyway, she phoned him to find out who they were.’ Matthew looked at her and took a long drink from his can. She raised her eyebrows at him.

  ‘Well, go on,’ Emma said.

  ‘You can’t say anything. It’s all really hush hush.’ She laughed at his serious expression.

  ‘Yeah, yeah, of course it is,’ she said. ‘Come on, spill the beans.’

  ‘All their kit, it’s forensic stuff. Like off that Crime Scene Investigators on the telly. That’s why it can’t go in the hold.’

  ‘Ooh, exciting stuff.’ Emma opene
d her eyes in mock-horror. ‘Crime Scene Kandahar.’

  ‘They’re not going to Kandahar,’ Matthew replied. ‘Well, they are, but then they’re going on to Bastion.’

  Emma looked across at the group of policemen who were getting up to leave.

  ‘So who are they, then?’ she whispered. Matthew paused before replying, also in a whisper.

  ‘Major Investigation Team, apparently. Like on that murder squad program that used to be on the telly.’

  ‘Seriously?’ Emma said, her eyes wide for real this time. ‘Shit!’

  ‘You can’t say anything, though,’ Matthew said quickly. ‘You’ll get me an interview without coffee.’

  ‘Whatever.’ Emma waved her hand dismissively. ‘If they are murder squad, everyone in uniform between here and Bastion will know about it already. You can’t keep stuff like that quiet for long.’

  ‘Fair one,’ Matthew replied as he finished his drink. ‘Just don’t drop me in it, that’s all. I need to get going, anyway.’

  Emma and Matthew got to their feet, and he gave her a bear hug so tight it made her wince.

  ‘You stay safe out there, mate,’ he whispered. ‘Your mum needs you back in one piece.’

  ’She’s not said a word,’ Emma replied. ‘But I’m so worried.’

  ‘Yeah, so’s Caroline,’ Matthew said. ‘We’ll keep an eye on her, though, don’t worry. You concentrate on finishing your time out there.’

  ‘I will, Matthew. Easy tour so far, and I’m over the hump now so will be back before you know it. Easy peasy.’ She tried to keep the tremor she could feel in her throat out of her voice, but as she looked at Matthew’s expression, she knew that he’d caught her out.

  ‘Yeah, right,’ he said. ‘Just stay safe.’

  34

  Adams looked up at the eight-storey ‘Pier Beach’ hotel that Lizzie had pulled up outside. It was a square, uniform-looking building with a bunch of balconies making the most of the location a couple of hundred yards away from the beach.