The Songbird and the Soldier

by Wendy Lou Jones

  “Yes, but she’s not your average giggly teenage girl, or drunk middle-aged woman, Sam can really sing.”

  Sam felt herself blush and deep inside she was overjoyed at how proud Andy was of her.

  “Can you? Can you really sing, Sam?” Helen asked.

  “I sing, but I wouldn’t say ‘well’.”

  “Well I would,” Andy said. “I’d say she was bloody fantastic.” He leaned over and kissed her.

  “Oh get a room, you two,” Steve said, chucking an empty plastic drinks bottle into the back of the car.

  Helen thumped him again.

  “Ow. What was that for?”

  “Leave them alone. It’s young love. Just because you can’t remember what that was like.”

  “No. I’ve had it beaten out of me, haven’t I?”

  “Oh, you love it.” Helen briefly turned a warm smile on Steve before they pulled up outside Sam’s house. “Here we go, folks.”

  Back inside, Andy announced he needed to run an errand for a mate and would need to be gone for a few hours, but he would be back later, in time to cook her dinner. Sam was curious as to why he had to leave, but not confident enough to question him further, so she pretended she was fine with it and while he was gone Sam popped round to her parents to see how they were doing.

  Sam found her dad tinkering in the garage when she arrived. He welcomed her with a big hug and asked her what news she had to tell him. He was pleased to hear that her new man was unexpectedly in town and that everything was going well. He enquired about the prospect of grandchildren and Sam gave him the usual reproachful look and skipped off inside to find her mum.

  Her mother was peeling potatoes in the kitchen when Sam walked in. They hugged briefly and her mum said what an unexpected surprise it was and how relieved she must be to be up to date with her paperwork again. Sam, thinking quickly, explained how her man had turned up unexpectedly and had been helping her with the shopping and tidying up.

  “He sounds like a nice lad,” her mother said when finally Sam paused for breath

  “Oh he’s so wonderful, Mum. He’s everything I’d hoped he would be: he’s kind and considerate, he’s generous and he makes me laugh and he’s… oh… he’s just gorgeous.”

  “It sounds to me like someone is falling for him.” Sam’s smile almost split her face in two. “And does he feel the same way about you?”

  “Maybe. Yes, I think so. I hope so.”

  “Well just be careful, love. You know what these soldiers are like”

  “But he’s not like that, Mum.”

  “Okay. So what have you done with him while you’re round here?”

  Sam had to concede that she didn’t actually know.

  “As I said, just be careful.”

  Sam sighed. “Okay, Mum.”

  Sam made sure she was back by five, but with no sign of Andy as yet she put on some Dido and slouched about in the living room. The day was hot, so she slipped off her shoes and brushed out her helmet hair and began to sing along. Humphrey retreated to the quiet of the back garden in the shade of the cherry tree. At some point Andy must have returned, but Sam hadn’t heard him and it wasn’t until she turned around, mid-song, and saw him in the doorway, watching her that she realised she was not alone.

  “I tried the doorbell,” he said, stifling a smirk. “I guess you didn’t hear it. Who is this, by the way?”

  Embarrassed, Sam turned it down and walked over. “Dido,” she said.

  “I got you something,” he said. Sam took a step closer and looked at him. Andy reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out a long thin box. He held it out. Sam walked over and took it from him. “I hope you like it,” he said.

  Sam tentatively opened the box and inside she saw a delicate gold bracelet and in the centre was an oval plaque with an engraving of a bird on a rifle. Sam picked it out and looked up at Andy for an explanation.

  “I tried to get you something to remind you of us, but I didn’t want it to be too slushy,” he said. Sam looked at the engraving. “It’s you and me, see: the soldier and the songbird.”

  “It’s perfect,” she said and he helped her put it on. Sam stroked it into place. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you. I love it.”

  “Are you sure? I can take it back and get you something else if you’d rather.”

  Sam pulled her wrist away. “Don’t you dare.” She reached up on tiptoes and kissed him with all the love and devotion she could convey.

  “Right, let’s get on with this cooking then,” Andy said.

  “You really don’t have to, you know. I’ll do it,” Sam said.

  “No you won’t.” Andy walked out to the kitchen and searched through the fridge and freezer for inspiration. Sam could hear a lot of cupboard doors opening and closing and then he stuck his head around the living room door and said, “How do bacon and egg butties sound to you?” Sam would have eaten barbed wire if he had served it up with that heart-melting smile of his. “Sounds wonderful,” she said.

  They spent the evening at home. They had each other for company and nothing else was needed. They talked and laughed and played Scrabble. The game ended in a draw as the board got tipped over during a wrestling match over a disputed word. Sam had never heard of the word, but she was convinced that even if it was a real word, it was unlikely to have both an X and a Z in it.

  Sunday morning was a more subdued affair. Sam was painfully aware that this was her last full day with Andy before she had to go back to work and then he would fly back out to Afghanistan. Andy must have noticed a change in her, because he asked her what was wrong, but he seemed to understand her sadness even without her actually expressing it. It was amazing the words that could be conveyed in a simple squeeze of the hand. They both decided it was important to make the best use of the day.

  The old park was a scene of idyllic English summertime. Families wandered through and spread out rugs on the ground. Children fed the ducks and chased after pigeons and the sun shone down warming rays on them all.

  Andy and Sam walked among it, hand in hand, saying little. They had talked already about so much, all except the things that really mattered.

  An ice cream van sang out from the edge of the park behind them and nearby children began to hurry towards it. Two of them ran past Sam and Andy, calling backwards for their slower parents to follow faster. The little girl noticed Sam and smiled. “Hello, Miss Litton,” she said.

  “Hello, Rosie. Hello Ron.”

  The parents walked passed and said hello and once out of earshot Andy turned to Sam.

  “Miss Litton? I never really thought of you as actually being someone’s teacher. Should I call you Miss from now on?”

  “Only if you want me to thump you.”

  “Okay. Sorry, Miss.” Sam thumped him and Andy laughed.

  “You’re not going to put me in detention, are you?”

  “Only if you’re very naughty.”

  Andy’s face formed a mischievous grin and Sam thumped him again.

  When they got back home, Sam sent Andy off to the garden to relax while she prepared the lunch. She turned on the oven and flicked the switch on her little radio, tuning it in. Sam chopped and peeled and tried to make everything as perfect as she could, singing along to the tunes as she went. The one o’clock news came on and Sam’s tender heart stilled. Another soldier had been killed whilst serving in Afghanistan. He had been shot in an engagement while his troop had been on patrol, trying to clear an IED from a roadside in Helmand. The report said that two other soldiers had also been wounded and had been evacuated to the British field hospital in Camp Bastion. All relatives had been informed. Sam’s beautiful, idyllic world crumpled around her. It was still happening out there, and any minute now Andy would be flying back to take up his role in it. She slunk down to the floor and hopeless silent tears began to flow.

  A short while later, Andy’s face appeared round the door. He stopped for a moment and assessed the situation. A jolly voice sang ou
t from the radio, at odds with the scene within. No blood had been spilled and yet Sam was deeply upset about something. He walked inside and crouched down before her and gently put his hand on her shoulder. Sam did not look up. He said her name and lifted her chin to look into her eyes and there he saw a world of pain. “What is it?” he asked.

  But Sam could not say. She could not even bring herself to speak the words.

  “Was it something on the radio?” he asked.

  Sam slowly nodded.

  “About Afghanistan?”

  Sam heaved a big sigh and nodded again.

  Andy sat down on the floor beside her and she rested her head against him. “Was someone else killed?” he asked tentatively.

  Sam could not even nod. She put her arms around Andy and buried her head in his neck, holding on for dear life. Andy put his arms round her and soothed her, stroking her hair with his hand. After a few minutes, Andy asked her if she remembered who the soldier had been, but she could not. She could only say he wasn’t from 9 Rifles. After that Andy made Sam promise that once he was gone, she would not listen to any more news bulletins. Sam protested, drying her eyes and sitting up away from him. How else was she going to find out what was happening out there? But Andy was adamant. He would tell her anything she needed to know.

  “You’ll only worry otherwise,” he said.

  “You think I won’t be worrying anyway?” Sam said as she fiddled with her bracelet.

  “It’s only the same amount of time as last time. You’ll be fine.”

  “But it’s different this time,” Sam said.

  “Why?” Andy asked.

  “It just is.” Why? As if he could even ask it? Was he being deliberately obtuse? She longed to cry out ‘because I’m madly in love with you now, you idiot’, because she was, she understood that now. She had to say goodbye to him in less than forty eight hours and the thought of it was killing her. She loved him so deeply, but she was too afraid to say so. He would surely run a mile if she were to gush all over him and then she would never see him again.

  “Okay,” he said. “But promise me you’ll do as I ask. I don’t want to think of you back here fretting every time you turn on the TV or radio.”

  Sam was quiet. “But what if you can’t tell me you’re all right,” she said, unable to look him in the eye.

  Andy thought for a moment. He nodded. “Leave that to me. I’ve got to pop back to the barracks at some point tomorrow. I’ll give Miller’s wife, Gina, your address and phone number. She’ll know if anything bad happens with our lot. I’ll ask her to keep you in mind if… She’s a nice girl, Gina. You’d like her.”

  Sam nodded and then rested her head on his shoulder again.

  “And maybe, if you can manage to put up with me for a bit longer, I could put you down as my next of kin on my next tour?”

  Sam spluttered out a laugh. “Is that a soldier’s idea of romantic?”

  Andy’s face fell. “Yep, sorry, that’s as good as it gets.” He turned to look at her and swept the last of the tears from her face. He smiled. “So do you think you could get on with making my lunch now? I’m bloody starving.”

  Sam smiled despite herself and leant against him. “Oh God, the potatoes; I didn’t put them in.”

  Andy stood up and looked at the timer. “Chop ’em up smaller. They’ll be fine.”

  Sam got to her feet. “Oh, my leg, it’s gone dead.”

  “Well if you will pick the most uncomfortable place in the whole house to have your emotional meltdown.”

  Sam thumped him. “Oi.”

  Andy turned her radio off. “I’ll put some music on, shall I?” he said and wandered off into the living room.

  Sunday lunch was a quiet affair. Their bubble had been burst and reality had crept in. But lust was turning to love and the pain of separation was nibbling at their heels. They spent the rest of the day lounging on the grass in the garden, their bodies always touching and where they weren’t together, that part of them ached.

  A little bird fluttered down close by them and they watched it hopping around before it was startled by Humphrey walking over to see them.

  “Look, it’s a long-tailed tit. See. It’s small, not much bigger than a wren really and with a long tail. There’ll probably be more around if we stay still. And smother Humphrey, of course.”

  Sam chuckled. “So. You really do like bird watching. I had wondered.”

  Andy smiled. “Is it that sad?” he asked.

  “Criminally. No, of course it’s not.”

  Another one landed. “Look, on the fence over there. It’s another one.” Sam followed his direction. “It’s got a little bug in its beak. It’s probably taking it home to the nest. They’ll have hungry mouths waiting for them.”

  Sam looked up. “If I was a bird, what kind of bird would I be?” she asked.

  Andy made a point of considering carefully for a moment and then he said, “Great tit.” Sam thumped him. “Okay, a song thrush, a song thrush,” and he tickled her until she rolled on the ground begging him to stop, and then he kissed her.

  By the end of the afternoon, clouds had made a barrier across the sky and the light was growing dim. Sam shivered. Andy suggested they make plans for the evening and Sam made arrangements to meet up with some friends down the pub later.

  Their night was spent in patient love, no less passionate than before, but this time it held even more meaning. It was love and longing and desire, all rolled into one.

  In the morning a reluctant Sam went off to work. But before she went she checked several times that he would definitely be there when she got back that evening. Andy tried to break the tension by teasing her about being a schoolteacher, but his efforts did little to ease the pain. Eventually he had to almost shove her out the door, or she’d have been late.

  Sam cycled away, confident that the children would keep her mind occupied for the rest of the day. A near miss with a car helped to focus her attention on the job in hand, and before she knew it she was pulling up outside school, ready to start the day.

  Melissa Andrews and her new pet stick insects came to her rescue. She had brought them in to show to the class and they sparked a great discussion and interest for the better part of the morning. Sam got them all writing about stick insects and then she let them draw a picture each – something she would not be doing again. They were named Sarah, Cynthia and Simon. Not the sort of names Sam had expected and she hoped that they hadn’t been offended by a wrong gendered name, but then again she had no idea how you were supposed to sex a stick insect. Jimmy had panicked her half way through the afternoon, declaring that Simon was suddenly missing, but after a thorough search of the classroom, Melissa found that he was there after all and wasn’t that amazing how good they were at camouflage? So with all the unexpected excitement and a bit of reading and maths, there was little time left for dwelling on the affairs of the heart.

  It was by far the longest time she had spent apart from Andy since his arrival, and so it was with a real sense of purpose that she got her things together at the end of the day and sped off home.

  Andy was waiting for her when she got back, with a bunch of red roses in his hand and a kiss on his lips. Then, from behind his back he produced two tickets for the theatre and handed them to Sam. He had somehow managed to get hold of some tickets for ‘Much Ado About Nothing’ that night, which Sam had heard had been sold out for months. Sam gasped. “But how…? I tried to get tickets to see this ages ago, but it was sold out.”

  “Ah, you obviously haven’t got the knack.”

  “You mean you batted your eyelashes at the woman behind the ticket counter. I’ve seen you in action. I’m sure you could talk any woman into anything if you set your mind to it.”

  Andy laughed. “If only. I think usually I just bore them with logic until they give in.”

  Sam gave him a look. “Thank you,” she said and kissed him.

  Seeing Andy again after the break of a day was like seeing him a
new. Sam could not believe that this tall, handsome, loving man with inky blue eyes was standing here with her.

  The following morning Sam moved through the rituals of the day without a sound. There was nothing she could say that would make it any better. It was all she could do to keep herself together and not fall to pieces in front of him. Andy was quiet too. He had packed up his things and was ready to go. He had put his rucksack beside the front door and it stared at Sam defiantly. She looked at him, sipping his tea almost too calmly. Tomorrow he would be back there; back in harm’s way, and all she could do was wait. Any minute now she had to say goodbye. She had to leave him and cycle off to twenty nine little faces and pretend that everything was okay; but it wasn’t. It couldn’t be, not for three more months. Three months of worrying and hoping and trying not to think about those horrible things that crept into the back of your mind when you weren’t looking. A stiff upper lip had to be the only way, if you wanted to make it through with your sanity. Sam looked at the clock. It was twenty past eight; time to go. She paled. “What time is your taxi coming?” she asked.

  “About ten minutes.”

  “I have to go.”

  “I know. I’ll post your key through the letterbox as I leave. Go on now.”

  Sam rushed forward and hugged him so tightly, all composure lost. “Come back safe, won’t you?”

  Andy held her close. “I’ll do my best.” He prised her away from him. “Come on. You’re going to be late.”

  Sam looked up. “We could always elope,” she said, excited. “No one would find us.”

  “Sounds like a great idea.” They kissed one last time. “Go on now.”

  Sam pulled on her helmet and opened the door.

  Andy did not move. “I’ll be seeing you,” he said and Sam smiled and walked away. It was the hardest thing she had ever done. As her body mounted her bike and she rode away, her heart was crying out to run back to him. But nothing she could do would make a difference. He would still have to go, if not then, then soon. She cycled on with tears welling up in her eyes, and ached for the man that had come to mean everything to her. Please stay safe, my love, she thought when she reached the school gates, and walked inside.