The decor was social security office modern, a collection of ugly furniture and uncomfortable seats in jarring primary colours, augmented by the usual assortment of battered armchairs rescued from skips. Rees looked up from one of the chairs, gave me a nervous smile and returned to his book. Piles of paperbacks and well-thumbed magazines were stacked on every available horizontal surface, competing for space with used polystyrene cups.
The seemingly inevitable inflatable sheep occupied a place of honour in an old ejector seat. Its modesty was protected by a parachute harness, artfully arranged across its lap. A cardboard sign hung round its neck, ‘In emergency, pull rip cord.’
Shark and Jimmy were throwing darts at a board on the wall, surrounded by a corona of pockmarked plaster. From Jimmy’s hangdog expression, he was no better at darts than he was at chess. Nearby was a noticeboard containing the usual mixture of exhortations, commendations and admonishments from the Administrative Officer.
The operations area of the Q shed was nothing more than an alcove opening off the main room. Noel glanced up and nodded to me from the Ops desk, a ledge twelve inches wide by three feet long. On it were a few papers, a telephone and a squawk box connecting the QRA to the Operations Centre and the radar and Rapier missile sites.
There were two clocks on the wall, identical to the ones that had hung in my school classrooms. One was set to Stanley time, the other to Greenwich Mean Time, five hours behind. The most modern item in the room was the large, grey steel safe. A cardboard sign reading, ‘OPEN’, dangled from the handle. In the event of an alert, the Ops Officer’s second duty, after hitting the triple buttons that sounded the alarms and opened the doors of the Tempest shacks, was to lock the safe.
In theory all classified documents and code books had to be returned to the safe immediately after use. In practice many were kept in the most useful place – on the Ops desk. The unexpected arrival of an Ops Officer on an inspection visit usually provoked a desperate holding action in the area near the door, while one of the aircrew scrambled to gather up the incriminating documents and shove them back into the safe.
I walked through to the TV room. Jane glanced round, already sprawled in one of the rotting armchairs in front of the television. ‘You cut that fine, two more minutes and you’d have been in the shit.’
‘For once I’d have had a good alibi.’
‘Not snogging Farmer Palmer’s wife again, then?’
‘Don’t tell me you’re still jealous?’
‘Only of Farmer Palmer. He’s my kind of man.’
‘Surly and pig ignorant? Yes, you’re probably right.’
She stuck her tongue out at me. ‘So what really happened?’
‘I found a Zodiac hidden on the beach further up the coast. I thought it could be Argentine Special Forces. I had all on to convince the Boss though, he thinks it’s just some blokes trying out for Henley.’
‘So that alert’s down to you?’ she said. ‘Thanks a lot, pal. They’ve just moved us up to Readiness State 10. That means we’ve got to sleep in these suits as well as live in them.’
I laughed. ‘I don’t see why, from what Geoff says you can be in and out of your clothes in ten seconds when the mood takes you.’
I ducked to avoid the cushion thrown at my head.
‘You’ll never know, Sean, that’s for sure.’
‘I don’t know, you can’t keep too much hidden in QRA accommodation. Where is it anyway?’
‘I’ll show you,’ she said. ‘This film sucks.’
The QRA rooms were smaller and much more spartan than the Death Star accommodation. Each of the four rooms had a washbasin, two single beds, a small table and two chairs, and a row of hooks on the breeze-block wall. The beds were right up against opposite walls but even so there was barely room to walk between them.
Jane’s Walkman and her tapes, books and magazines were already piled on the table, but there was no sign of the photograph that she usually kept by her bed.
‘Where’s Geoff?’
She flushed a little, her fingers straying to the pendant around her neck. ‘I left him up at the Death Star. QRA quarters are crowded enough with just two people in them. There’s no room for three.’ She turned away from me and started sorting through her tapes.
‘You’re right there, this is even cosier than Kuwait.’
‘So there’s not much chance of keeping any secrets from one another for the next few days.’ She paused. ‘Speaking of which, how was – what’s her name? Rose?’
‘Stop pretending, Jane, you know she’s called Rose.’ I hesitated, afraid that voicing my worries would only add to the scorn she might heap on me. ‘I don’t know. She was a bit strange. I didn’t even get over the threshold.’
‘Maybe Bernard’s acting up. Perhaps I’d better go with you next time and make it a double date.’
‘Not even a Falklands farmer is that desperate.’
I blocked the cuff that she aimed at my ear. She was close enough for me to smell her perfume and feel the warmth of her body. I held her wrist for a moment, then released it. She made no effort to step away.
‘I – Look, I’ve got a call to make.’ I eased past her but her smile mocked me.
‘Coward. Who are you calling anyway, not Rose again, surely?’
I didn’t answer and walked off down the corridor. I picked up the handset, and flicked through the telephone book, no bigger than a pamphlet. No one answered for over a dozen rings. I was just about to hang up when there was a click from the other end of the line and I heard Rose’s voice.
‘It’s Sean. I just wanted to make sure you were all right.’
There was a pause. ‘We’re fine, all of us.’ Her voice sounded tense and strained.
‘All of you?’
‘Yes. I have to go, give my regards to your brother.’ The line went dead.
I stared at the phone without moving. When I looked round, Jane was watching me.
‘There’s something wrong.’
‘I wouldn’t worry. She’s just playing hard to get.’
‘Jane, I’m serious. When I asked her if she was all right, she said, “Yes, all of us are fine.”’
‘So?’
‘There are only two of them. She also said, “Give my regards to your brother.” She knows he’s dead, she tends his grave every month.’
‘But that’s still no reason for a drama. Perhaps she was just trying to pretend that somebody else was calling in case Bernard was jealous.’
I nodded doubtfully. ‘Maybe.’
She stretched out her hand and tousled my hair. ‘Look, don’t chew your liver about it. There’s nothing you can do for the next few days while we’re stuck in here.’
‘I suppose not.’
We walked back to the crew room. The previous QRA crew had finished packing their gear. They shook hands all round, unable to keep the smiles from their faces at the thought of getting out of their flying gear and into some drinks in the Mess.
‘Spare a thought for us poor saps down here,’ Jane said.
‘Jane, we think about you all the time.’
A gust of cold wind stirred the papers on the table as they opened the door. They let it bang shut behind them and I heard their footsteps receding into the night.
I changed into my flying gear, then made some coffee and handed a cup to Jane who was again sprawled out in front of the video screen. Shark and Jimmy were once more locked in combat over the chessboard, and Rees was still buried in his book. The others sat around flipping through magazines, writing letters or watching the TV, but I couldn’t settle.
Finally I walked through to my room, picked up a book and lay down on the bed. I read for a couple of hours, scarcely registering the words, reading and rereading the same page over again. Jane looked in on me once or twice, then walked away. Privacy was jealously guarded on QRA; there was so little of it.
Around eleven I turned off the light and lay back on the bed. The only illumination was the dim glow filt
ering in from the corridor. As I lay with my eyes open, staring at the ceiling, Jane came in. A moment later I heard the rustle of clothing. ‘I thought you were sleeping in that flying suit.’
She gave a throaty chuckle. ‘You were right. I can be in and out of it in seconds.’
I kept my eyes fixed on the ceiling but I could not shut out the sound of her undressing. Every faint noise seemed louder and I could even hear the thump of my heart. There was a metallic click as she laid her pendant – Geoff’s pendant – on the bedside table. A moment later she stood looking down at me. She was wearing only a T-shirt. ‘You’re in my bed.’
I tried to keep it light. ‘Well, it’s good of you to lend it to me. You can have it back in the morning, when I’ve finished with it.’
She still did not move. ‘Sean?’
I shifted my gaze to look at her for a moment, but neither of us spoke. She reached out a hand and touched my chest. ‘Do you ever wonder?’
‘I don’t let myself.’ It was not strictly true, but I was both aroused and scared about where this was leading.
‘So you do think about it.’
‘Geoff’s my mate, Jane.’
‘He’s mine too,’ she said.
‘No, he’s more than that.’
She stayed where she was a moment longer, then took her hand away. I could still feel the warmth of her touch as she curled up on the other bed.
‘Sean, what if?’
Neither of us spoke again but when I turned my head a few minutes later, I could see the glitter of her eyes in the half-light, still staring at me.
I lay awake a long time, then slept fitfully, waking at each noise from the building: the creak of the timbers in the wind, the click of a door and the murmur of voices. Once a bang brought me juddering awake, bolt upright, sweat starting to my brow. Then I heard a muttered curse and the sound of someone picking up a metal tray.
I woke what seemed like seconds later with Jane shaking my shoulder.
‘What is it?’
She laughed. ‘It’s morning, that’s all. Briefing in twenty minutes.’
Her hand lingered on my shoulder for a moment. As she turned to go, I caught her wrist. ‘Jane…’
She nodded. ‘It’s all right, don’t sweat it. It’s history already. I won’t put you on the spot again.’
I released her hand but it was a few seconds before she stepped away from the bedside and moved out of the room. I lay back, staring at the ceiling, trying to blot out the memory of the touch of her skin. I forced myself to think about Geoff and how he would feel if Jane dumped him for anyone, let alone his supposed best friend. I tried to bring his face to mind, but all I could see were Jane’s eyes, fixed on me, glittering in the darkness.
I got out of bed, went to the basin and splashed cold water over my face. Then I stood staring at my reflection in the mirror.
‘Sorry. I thought you might want some coffee.’
Jane was standing in the doorway, holding out a cup.
I froze for a moment, unsure of what to do, then grabbed for my shorts. ‘It’s all right,’ I said. ‘It’s nothing you haven’t seen before,’ but I couldn’t raise my eyes to look at her. Everything between us had changed.
She put the cup down on the table, then stood in the doorway, silently watching me. I could feel the tension in the air between us and my heart was thumping in my chest. I finished dressing, my body half-turned away from her, as if shielding myself from her gaze.
‘We should—’ I gulped and swallowed. My voice sounded like a stranger’s. ‘We’d better get to the briefing.’
I looked up at last and our eyes locked. She searched my face for a moment and there was the faint trace of a smile as she turned away.
The rest of the QRA crew were already in the TV lounge, which doubled as the briefing room. Noel was sitting to one side, talking quietly to the Boss. They both stood up as we entered. ‘Right,’ Noel said, ‘now we’re all here, let’s get on with it. As you know, Sean found a hidden Zodiac yesterday. A patrol has been out and recovered it and we’ve had Marine recce patrols out in the hills throughout the night, but so far nothing else out of the ordinary has been found.
‘The base is maintaining Military Vigilance and we’re staying at RS 10 until we have some satisfactory explanation for the incident. We’ve had no other reports of anything unusual, but just the same, keep alert and keep your eyes peeled for ground activity during your sorties today.
‘Falcon One and Falcon Two will be flying a sortie at noon. Fat Albert will be out there for those who need a refuel. We also have another charter of Argentinian relatives arriving today and contrary to previous instructions, I want two jets, Falcon Three and Falcon Four, to intercept and close escort them, just to give them something to tell the folks at home about. That’s all. Intelligence brief.’
The Intelligence Officer stood up. ‘No major changes to the situation. The Eva Peron and its guardship are now steaming west-south-west on a course that would take them back to Rio Gallegos. The exercise, whatever it was, appears to be as good as over, but we’re continuing to monitor.
‘There’s a good deal of helicopter activity in international waters just outside the Exclusion Zone off the coast south of Rio Gallegos. We’ve intercepted distress calls from an Argentine trawler, but our offers of assistance from our Sea Kings have been politely declined. It appears the trawler may have gone down and a search is going on for survivors.’
Jane nudged me, ‘It’s getting to be a regular Bermuda Triangle out there.’
‘There’s one major difference from the Trident though; if the trawler is operating at the same depth, it definitely won’t be making a surprise reappearance.’
We had spoken quietly, almost under our breath, but the Intelligence Officer still paused and gave us a pointed look. ‘Not much new from the Argentine mainland.’ She gave a thin smile and pushed her spectacles back on to the bridge of her nose. ‘Except that they’re still marching up and down the streets; a normal day in Buenos Aires, in other words.’
There were a few polite smiles.
‘Weather brief.’ Jimmy uncoiled himself from a bench at the front of the room and stood up. ‘Wind south-west, forty knots, almost a flat calm for round here, broken cloud, a chance of showers, possibly of snow later, cloud ceiling lowering to perhaps five thousand feet by dusk.’
As Jimmy collected his papers together, the Boss rose to his feet. ‘One final point, we may be at the equivalent latitude to southern England here, but if you haven’t already noticed, there’s no Gulf Stream to warm us. We’re in the path of the Antarctic current and as the name suggests, it’s coming to us straight from the ice cap.
‘Winter sea surface temperatures are barely above freezing – perhaps five degrees Celsius offshore and dropping as low as two degrees inshore. That’s several degrees colder than the winter temperature of the North Sea or North Atlantic around Britain. It’s cold enough to kill you within minutes if you’re unlucky enough to have to ditch in it. For that reason it’s even more important than usual that you check your immersion suits regularly for any signs of wear and tear. Replace them immediately from stores if there’s the slightest blemish.
‘I know how you all hate to waste the government’s money unnecessarily, but it could make a life-and-death difference. If you have to eject, we’ll have a rescue chopper in the air before you even hit the water, but if you’re unprotected in these waters – and that’s effectively what you’ll be if your suit leaks – your survival time is measured in minutes. You’ll almost certainly die before we can reach you. Be safe and stay alert. That’s all.’
We filed out and walked down the corridor to the changing room. Hard though we both tried to keep the normal banter flowing as we got ready for our sortie, I could still feel the tension between myself and Jane. I cursed myself, wishing I had seen the events of the previous night coming a little sooner and taken quicker steps to head them off. Now it was too late.
Even if we ne
ver referred to it directly again, I had the uneasy feeling that it would always be there in the background, a shared knowledge that would make it hard, if not impossible, to rediscover the easy friendship we had shared before. The more I thought about it, the more certain I was that I would lose one, and perhaps both, of my best friends – Jane and Geoff – as a result.
I dug my nails into my palms, telling myself I was being stupid, creating all the necessary conditions for a self-fulfilling prophecy, and I made a huge effort to get us back to normal. As we went through the preflight checks, I tried to drown my worries in a stream of banter. Jane still sounded distracted at first, but then she too responded and before long the wisecracks were snapping backwards and forwards almost as fast as usual. There was still an undercurrent, however, and my anxieties were only suppressed, not resolved.
I fired up the Tempest as Jane loaded the mission computers and established the data link to Shark and Fortress. Then we rolled out onto the runway. Shark lined up his jet alongside us and we blasted off down the runway together. As he broke formation to swing away to the south-east, towards our rendezvous with the tanker, I kept the jet steady on a westerly course.
Jane’s faintly mocking voice immediately crackled in my headphones. ‘Taking a bit of a circuitous route to Fat Albert this morning, aren’t we, Skipper? You wouldn’t be planning a pass over a certain farmhouse, would you?’
‘Am I that transparent?’
She laughed. ‘Only to a professional. Take it down low then, so we can both have a good look.’
We followed the curve of the hills round to the north-west, then dropped down to low level and throttled back. The white walls and red roof of the farm loomed in the canopy and were gone beneath us. There had been no sign of any movement around the building.
‘Do you want to go around again?’ Jane asked.
‘No, once is enough. Let’s get to work.’ I banked the jet in a broad turn, watching patches of cloud chase each other across the tarns and inlets of the deserted land. Then we were out across the shoreline and skimming over the sea as we began to gain height towards the rendezvous with the Hercules.
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