by Fiona Field
Maddy gave in and allowed herself to be propelled to the sofa where she collapsed, while Susie scooped up Nathan and took him with her into the kitchen. She lay back against the cushions and her eyes shut. She heard Susie bustling about in the kitchen, opening and shutting cupboards, cooing at Nate, filling the kettle, putting it on… Oh, the bliss of being looked after. She relaxed, enjoying the moment.
‘Here’s your tea.’ Maddy opened her eyes again as Susie put a mug on the table in front of her. ‘I took the liberty of putting sugar in it. I think you need some energy, you look wiped out. Now, what’s the matter, Maddy? You look awful, like you’re going down with something dire.’ She looked so concerned Maddy felt she owed it to Susie to explain the situation.
‘I’m not ill, just pregnant. I was going to wait a few more weeks before going public… well, now you know.’
‘Ah…’ Susie nodded. ‘That would explain it. But congratulations. You must be thrilled.’
‘I know I should be…’ Maddy sighed, dejectedly. ‘But the sickness is awful this time. When I was expecting Nate it wasn’t half as bad.’
‘And back then you didn’t have someone waking you up early and needing constant attention.’
Maddy gave Susie a wan smile. ‘No, I didn’t. And Nate doesn’t give me much peace either.’
Susie grinned at her. ‘You should have told me before, though; I can help. With the twins back at boarding school I’m hardly pushed for time and things to do, am I?’
Maddy shrugged. ‘I know but I didn’t want to make a fuss. Other people manage.’
Susie shook her head in mild reproach before she sat down on the chair opposite Maddy. ‘Well, you don’t have to manage tonight; I’m here. How about you tell me what you were planning on cooking for Nathan’s supper and I’ll do it while you put your feet up.’
‘You don’t have to. Honest. Seb’s away for the weekend and Nate and I were going to have scrambled eggs on toast.’
‘I can do scrambled eggs on toast. And then when you’ve had that I’m going to give Nathan his bath and put him to bed. And when I’ve done that I suggest you go to bed too. You look done in, my dear, if you don’t mind me saying so.’
‘Oh, Susie, you don’t have to bath Nathan.’
‘Yes, I do. Don’t argue, and do as you’re told. Before I get started, though, I’m going to pop back over to Mike and tell him where I am, so he doesn’t send out a search party. And if I could nick those tea bags…’
‘Of course.’
‘Back in a mo.’
Nathan, safely corralled, picked up his wooden spoon again and banged on his toy box till Susie returned and took him into the kitchen, whereupon relative peace descended. Maddy could hear her making a fuss of her son, who was obviously lapping up the attention, judging by the gurgles and giggles, while she allowed her mind to drift. Thank goodness for the wonderfulness of her army-wife neighbours.
At tea-time on the last day of Bas’s selection weekend, all the rowers were lined up in front of the Eton College boathouse, waiting to hear the news before they dispersed back to their units. Had they, or hadn’t they, made the grade to go forward for further training? Katie, Michelle noticed, looked pretty indifferent, and maybe she was. However, Michelle herself had butterflies the size of eagles battering her ribcage with their wings and she hoped it wasn’t obvious to everyone that she was bricking it. She hadn’t felt this jittery since Sandhurst and she’d been waiting outside her company commander’s office for her final interview. Back then, she’d known she was going to be told one of two things: either she hadn’t made the grade and was going to be back-squadded, or she had made it and so she would be getting commissioned alongside all her peers. Then, like today, her knees had shaken so much she’d barely been able to stand.
Man up, she told herself, sternly. If you don’t make the grade there may be a way you can see him outside of rowing. But, her alter ego argued, as he was obviously a complete rowing nut, she’d be so much more attractive in his eyes if she showed she had a real talent for his chosen sport.
Bas came out of the boathouse with a sheaf of papers in his hand. Michelle’s heart rate and stress levels went ballistic.
‘Right,’ said Bas when he got to the front of the group. ‘The people whose names I call out first I want to stand on my right, the others stay where you are.’
Oh, fuck, why does he have to make a production out of it? This isn’t an X Factor audition and you’re not Simon Cowell, thought Michelle, her anxiety making her cross. Yes or no would do it.
Bas ran through a list of names and the relevant people shuffled forward. Michelle’s name wasn’t called. She looked at the line of men and women standing beside Bas and tried to work out if they were the no-hopers or if it was her group that was. Surely Katie, in the other group, was better than her? And that guy from the Royal Tank Regiment had been a real powerhouse… Michelle’s stomach lurched with nerves. Oh, get on with it, she implored silently.
Bas gestured to Michelle’s group. ‘Sorry, guys,’ he said.
Michelle’s body sagged. That was it then. She’d failed.
‘Sorry, guys, but you’ll be back here for more training.’
For a second or two what Bas was saying didn’t compute. She stared at him. What was he on about? Then the penny dropped and the relief was insane. For a second she thought she might cry but then she pulled herself together. Don’t be wet, she told herself sternly.
The others, those who hadn’t made the grade, were being thanked by Bas for the effort they’d put in, but Michelle wasn’t listening. All she could think about was that she was going to be seeing more of Bas. A lot more, she hoped. The trembling in her knees morphed from nerves to nervous energy. All she wanted to do was ring Sam and tell her the good news.
It was over an hour later when she was able to. Before then Bas had given his new recruits the personal training schedule he expected them all to stick to over the intervening weeks in order to build up some essential muscles. He also gave them a suggested diet plan so they would have the energy for the extra training, and finally he’d given them the dates of the future training weekends that they would be expected to commit to, if they were going to be on his team.
Michelle was feeling shell-shocked at what she was suddenly expected to undertake, but if it brought her to Bas’s attention, if it made her irresistible, then it was going to be so worth it.
Before the successful rowers went their separate ways everyone swapped contact details with Bas, ‘so,’ he told them, ‘I can keep you in the loop about kit requirements, any alterations in training dates, shit like that.’
As Seb drove home he found himself obsessing about Michelle. What the hell was wrong with him – apart from the fact he was a red-blooded bloke and she was incredibly attractive, single and very available, to judge by the signals she’d transmitted over supper on the Friday night. He could hardly remember the last time he’d wanted a woman as much as he wanted her. He thought about ripping her clothes off, about having hot, sweaty sex with her… he stopped and adjusted his trousers. He told himself he should be thinking about his driving, not getting a raging hard-on from fantasising about Michelle. Besides, he was pretty certain that when he got home, Maddy wasn’t going to want to have her clothes ripped off or indulge in hot, sweaty sex – or any sort of sex. He sighed. And when had she? The last time they’d had wild sex must have been about a year and a half ago; before she’d been pregnant with Nathan, at any rate.
He switched on the radio – anything to stop himself from thinking about Michelle, because he knew he shouldn’t. Although, was thinking about another woman so wrong? It wasn’t as if he was going to be unfaithful to Maddy. No way. The words on the radio didn’t stop his mind drifting back to Michelle and that supper they’d shared. It had only been a pub meal, hardly a romantic dinner for two, but it had been such a terrific evening. She’d made him laugh – which made a change as there was precious little to laugh about at home right now,
what with Maddy complaining about feeling sick all the time. And the way she’d looked at him across the table – like she was saying fuck me now. Seb shook his head. No, she wasn’t, of course she wasn’t, although he would have liked it to be so.
He heard his phone chirrup to tell him a text message had come in. He glanced across to the passenger seat. Could he risk reading the message while he was hurtling along the A303? Possibly not the best idea while he was topping seventy-five, so maybe he’d better pull over first. Besides, he could do with a piss. He decided to stop at the next filling station, have a leg-stretch and a pee and pick up the text then. It was probably Maddy, wanting to know what time to expect him back. He drove on for another mile or so until he spotted a sign directing him to ‘services’. He took the slip road to the garage and pulled the car into a parking space. He stretched before picking up his phone. A number, no name – so not Maddy, then. It was probably spam, he thought, but curiosity made him open it.
Hi Bas thx 4 a fab w/e. Had a gr8 time. Promise 2 train hard. Can’t w8 4 next training session Michelle xx
Seb stared at the text, mesmerised by the words and trying to work out if there was any significance in the fact she couldn’t wait for the next training session, or whether it was just a polite thank-you note. He slipped the phone into his pocket before getting out of the car, locking it and wandering across the garage concourse to find the gents. On his way back he bought himself a coffee and then he sat in the car as he read and re-read the text. Then he saved the number under MF, her initials, before he texted back.
Well done. Looking forward to more training too.
He pressed send thinking, as he did so, that she didn’t know just how much he was looking forward to it too.
He got home about an hour later and was greeted effusively by Maddy. It was lovely to have such a welcome. He smiled at her fondly.
‘Hi, hon,’ he responded as, encumbered by Maddy, hanging on one arm, he lugged in his kit bag and pushed the door shut behind him. ‘How was your weekend?’
‘Quiet,’ said Maddy. ‘Yours?’
‘Busy.’
‘Worth the effort? Did you find the next super-star rower?’
‘No, not really.’
‘Then did you find anyone to make the trip worth it?’
Seb smiled. Oh, yes – yes, he had. ‘Let’s say it wasn’t a complete waste of time.’
October was moving rapidly towards November. The shops in Warminster were decorated in orange and black ready for Halloween and there were signs up all over the place advertising fireworks for sale, but everyone knew that as soon as Guy Fawkes’ Night was over everything would be cleared out and replaced with fake snow and tinsel. The knowledge that Christmas was now a matter of weeks away meant that planning Christmas parties had shot to the top of a lot of agendas. And that included the corporals’ club committee of 1 Herts. Not that Immi was on the committee, but she’d spent the past few days bending the ear of the OiC of the corporals’ club, Captain Rosser, with ideas for Christmas parties that she’d pinched from the magazines she liked to read.
‘Look, Corporal Cooper,’ he’d said after she’d cornered him for the third time in as many days, ‘why don’t you come along to the next meeting and put your ideas to the committee yourself? I mean, I’d be happy to do it for you, but you know that old thing about send three and fourpence we’re going to a dance…’
Immi didn’t have a clue what the hell he was on about and neither did she care because she’d got exactly what she wanted. Luke was on the committee, and if she was there too, and given the floor in order to put some bloody brilliant ideas about decor and food to them, then Luke couldn’t help but notice her.
So, on the last Friday in October Immi got the chief clerk to give her an hour off work so she could attend the meeting and, looking her very best with her hair and make-up absolutely immaculate, she entered the corporals’ club, trying to look cool and efficient.
‘Wotcha, Ims,’ said Des, as he saw her walk across the floor to where a table and chairs had been set up ready for the meeting. He and half a dozen guys were already there. ‘Didn’t know you’d been elected on to the corporals’ club committee.’
Immi flopped down into one of the still-vacant chairs and placed the file she was carrying in front of her.
‘Not elected, Des. Co-opted.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘’Cos I’ve got lots of good ideas about the Christmas bash.’
‘Like?’
‘That’d be telling.’
Des put his head on one side. ‘And you getting on the committee hasn’t got anything to do with Luke Blake being on it?’
‘Is he? Well, there’s a thing,’ said Immi, trying to look innocent.
Captain Rosser, the officer in charge of the corporals’ club, entered the room. Des and Immi leapt to their feet.
‘At ease,’ said Rosser, taking off his beret and also putting a stack of files on the table. ‘Who are we missing?’
Des named a half dozen people who were absent. ‘And Corporal Blake,’ he added.
Rosser looked at his watch. ‘We’ve still got a few minutes till we’re due to kick off. Let’s wait for the others, shall we?’
Just then the door opened again and the remaining committee members, including Luke, barrelled into the room.
‘Sorry, sir,’ they said as they took their seats. Luke sat down opposite Immi. She would have preferred it if he’d been next to her but, hey, it was a half-decent result. She smiled winningly at him but Luke didn’t respond. She sighed inwardly. What the hell did she have to do to get his attention?
‘You’re all right,’ said Rosser, ‘I haven’t started. But I will now, if that’s everyone?’ He flicked open a file.
‘Yup, sir,’ said Des. ‘All present and correct.’
‘First of all, I’d like to welcome Corporal Cooper,’ said Rosser. ‘I’ve invited her along as she’s brimming with ideas for the Christmas party and I thought it would be easier for her to talk to you rather than for me to try and pass on the ideas second hand. But before we get to that we’ve got the rest of the agenda to get through. I trust you’ve all seen the agenda?’ He looked around the table. The men opened their files and produced their copies, took pens out of their combat jacket pockets and tried to look businesslike. Immi sat up straight and tried to look as if she was interested.
The meeting droned on, with discussions about what guest beers the bar should stock, the problem of graffiti in the loos, and other matters involving the minutiae of running the club. Finally the topic of the ball was reached. At last, thought Immi, but even then she wasn’t called to speak. Immi shifted on her uncomfortable chair, trying to look alert and interested and intelligent despite the fact she barely understood a word about the funding of the event, though she did manage to pick up that the PRI – the battalion’s welfare fund – was going to stump up several hundred pounds towards raffle prizes, subsidising the ticket price and, most importantly as far as Immi was concerned, replacing some of their stock of decorations. She hadn’t actually said anything to Captain Rosser about decorations in her chats to him but she had ideas on this subject too.
She stuck her hand up and then felt totally foolish. She wasn’t at school like a kid, now, was she? ‘I’d like to say something about the decorations and stuff, sir. If that’s all right with you.’
‘Yes, Cooper.’
‘I mean, I know I’m here because I had some ideas that I told you about… anyway, I thought it would be good to go with a red and white theme this year and try and deck this joint out a bit like an Alpine ski hut – you know, lots of red and white gingham tablecloths, and maybe we could ask people if they could lend us skis and sleds and kit like that. And I thought we could serve beer and glühwein and bratwurst and stuff…’ Her voice petered out again as she saw them all staring at her in silence. It didn’t look as though there was any enthusiasm for her plan at all. Instead of looking bright and intelligent in front
of Luke, she was looking like a prat. She could feel her face starting to flare. Maybe she should get her coat and go. ‘Sorry, it’s obviously a crap idea. Forget it.’
‘No,’ said Luke. ‘No, I really like it.’
‘It’s great,’ said Captain Rosser. ‘And you’re right, Cooper, the Germans really know how to do Christmas.’
‘The Germans,’ said Luke, ‘are great, aren’t they – Weinachtsmarkts, Christkindlmarkts, real candles on Christmas trees…’
Immi gazed at him in gratitude. He – Luke – liked her idea. Coo! She felt a warm glow of pride take the place of the burn of embarrassment from sticking up her hand.
‘You can forget the candles,’ said Captain Rosser. ‘Can you imagine what health and safety would have to say on the subject? But apart from that, what does everyone else think?’
There was a rumble of assent and some nods around the table.
‘I don’t suppose,’ said Luke, ‘there’s any chance of hiring a snow blower so when everyone arrives they get snowed on?’
Immi squealed, ‘Oh, fab,’ and then coloured and shut up. Not cool, Immi, she told herself. Not cool at all.
‘Glad someone likes the idea,’ said Luke, smiling at her. Immi glowed.
‘I suggest you make enquiries,’ said Rosser, ‘if you think the idea is worth going with.’ He looked around the table and saw nods of assent from the committee members. ‘OK, Blake. I’ll leave that with you. But please remember that there is only a limited budget.’
Immi whispered across the table to Luke, ‘I so hope it’s affordable. It would be so totally ace.’
Luke grinned at her. ‘Wouldn’t it just.’
It wasn’t long after that the meeting broke up and everyone made their way out of the club. Immi fell into step beside Luke. ‘So how come you know so much about German Christmases?’