Soldier's Daughters

by Fiona Field

Her heart stilled. With ghastly certainty she knew who it was. What did she want? Though Maddy could guess, especially after those texts. She couldn’t face a confrontation.

  She ducked out of sight and then nipped back into the sitting room, scooped up Nathan and whipped him upstairs as the doorbell rang. She’d pretend she was out. She wouldn’t answer the door.

  The doorbell rang again and again and then incessantly for about thirty seconds, followed by fairly violent hammering on the door. She sat on the bed in her room, clutching Nathan to her and wondering if she ought to call the police. And then the hammering and ringing stopped. It was some time before Maddy crept back to the front and looked out.

  The car had gone. She felt shaky with relief.

  A couple of hours later she received another text.

  Hes mine not yours and I will have him. You wont stop me.

  For the rest of the morning Maddy paced about her house, unable to settle, sick with worry about her visitor and the text message. Every now and again Maddy would be distracted by Nathan or a household task that needed doing and forget to be frightened, but then she would remember the manic ringing of the doorbell and the adrenalin would kick in again, leaving her panicky and terrified. She made her mind up. If Michelle came back she’d definitely call 999. She didn’t care if the cops thought she was a drama queen or a nutter with a hyper-active imagination – better that than risk anything happening to Nate.

  What she really wanted was someone to talk to, someone who could reassure her, but who? Susie and Mike were taking their girls back to boarding school, and because of the extended leave period hardly any of her neighbours were back from holidays with friends and relatives. Besides, thought Maddy, she could hardly go around the patch sounding off about her marital problems to all and sundry.

  It was her own fault. She should have asked Seb about the texts the instant she’d received them, she should have raced back to the house and asked him what the hell was going on. And now it was too late, now he was in the middle of sodding Africa and God only knew when she’d be able to get hold of him. What a mess.

  22

  The drive from the camp outside Nairobi to Nanyuki had been, thought Sam, a bit of a disappointment. She’d hoped for a sort of mini-safari; stunning countryside, maybe a glimpse of the odd giraffe or elephant, but instead, once they’d left the chaotic sprawl of the city they’d driven along roads lined by ramshackle villages and the only animals they’d seen had been the domestic variety – cows, sheep, goats, and dozens and dozens of donkeys all pulling carts laden with anything and everything you could think of. Where, wondered Sam, were the rolling grasslands with solitary acacia trees like you saw in wildlife films made about Africa? Where were the herds of wildebeest? Even a termite mound would be a welcome sight! Instead, it was either fields of wheat or acres of glasshouses growing flowers. Frankly, thought Sam, it seemed more like the Cotswolds than Kenya. Now and again her heart lifted when she saw a woman dressed in colourful, tribal costume with an amazing headdress of towering, sculpted fabric, or some flash of blue or green as a tropical bird zipped across the path of their coach, but mostly the journey was plain tedious.

  Eventually they drove into the town of Nanyuki, the closest settlement to the Laikipia base which would be home for a while, past a sign that told them they were right on the equator; ahead Sam could see a huge looming mountain that dominated the horizon – Mount Kenya. Finally, she felt she was in Africa.

  Surprisingly, despite being on the equator, when they got off the bus it wasn’t the red-hot heat that Sam had been expecting. Duh, of course, they were thousands of miles high. Well, thousands of feet, at any rate. This was a pleasant turn-up for the books, she thought. Except, of course, the chances of getting really badly sunburnt were much higher; with pleasant UK summer temperatures as the norm it was going to be hard to keep remembering to slap on the factor fifty several times a day.

  She looked about her. So this was going to be home sweet home for the next few weeks and it was hardly going to be luxury living. The accommodation was better than a tent, she supposed, but only marginally. Of course, like the rest of the battle group, she’d be going down, off the plateau and into the training area, but a base would be maintained back here for really serious vehicle repairs. Until the exercise proper got under way Sam had no way to judge how often she’d be required to oversee REME operations in the training area and how much she’d be needed here.

  Now the buses had all arrived the senior NCOs organised work parties to unload the baggage holds on the coaches and the convoy of lorries which had followed with the rest of the kit. With surprising speed the job was done and the piles of Bergens and equipment were collected by their owners and taken to the living quarters, armouries or stores, as appropriate.

  Sam, having found her luggage, approached the RQMS, the quartermaster’s chief right-hand man and the person in charge of allocating bed spaces. The companies had each been allocated barn-like dorms – there were some other smaller units which had been divvied up to the officers and SNCOs, and most of Sam’s LAD had opted to bunk down in the corner of the workshop. The trouble with all of these spaces was the lack of privacy. Not that Sam was a prude, but if there was any chance of separate female accommodation she’d happily go for it.

  ‘Where am I sleeping, Q?’ she asked

  He sucked his teeth. ‘It’s a bit Hobson’s choice, ma’am.’

  That didn’t sound hopeful. So what was the choice? Sleeping with dozens of snoring, farting soldiers or on a camp bed in the open with just a mossie net for protection.

  ‘And?’

  ‘There’s a sort of storeroom, ma’am. I thought you and Cooper from BHQ could share it.’

  Sam remembered Corporal Cooper – the pretty female clerk she’d met on her first arrival at 1 Herts and the one Blake had danced with at the corporals’ club ball. That was all right. There was nothing she could object to in that.

  ‘It’s very cramped,’ said the RQMS.

  ‘That’s OK,’ said Sam. ‘To be honest, I’d been bracing myself for much worse.’

  ‘Wait till you see it.’

  ‘Lead the way.’

  Well, thought Sam, ‘storeroom’ might have been a bit generous. Cubby hole was nearer the mark but there was room for two camp beds and it had a light. Just as well really as there wasn’t a window, but they could leave the door open to get some air.

  The RQMS left her to settle in, which amounted to little more than plonking her Bergen on her bed. With no spare space at all, unpacking wasn’t an option. Sam scratched her head. How the hell she and Cooper would both manage to get dressed in the morning in the six-inch space between the beds was a problem that would need addressing. Maybe they could take it in turns. Not that it was something to worry about right now. A shadow fell across the door. Sam turned and saw her roomie.

  ‘Ma’am.’

  ‘Cooper. I hope you don’t mind slumming it with me.’ Corporal Cooper looked bewildered. ‘Joke,’ said Sam.

  ‘Oh.’ Cooper gave a nervous laugh.

  ‘A bad one,’ said Sam, with what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

  ‘Anyway, it won’t be for long, ma’am. I expect I’ll be off into the bush soon. Captain Bailey has detailed me to look after some reporter or other who is joining us.’

  ‘Oh, who’s that?’

  Cooper shrugged. ‘Haven’t a clue. Anyway, whoever it is I’m lumbered with, it has to be better than log-keeping on the night shift.’

  ‘Was that what they had planned for you?’

  ‘Dunno, but there isn’t much else I can do out here, is there?’

  Sam looked at Cooper’s long sleek hair, polished nails and fake tan and thought there probably wasn’t. Escorting a civvy was probably a very suitable job for her.

  Corporal Cooper suddenly shrieked and Sam jumped.

  ‘What?’

  ‘There.’ Cooper was pointing, with a shaking hand, at a small lizard scuttling up the wall from behin
d a bed.

  ‘Aw,’ said Sam. ‘Isn’t it cute?’

  ‘Cute?’ squealed Cooper. ‘You having a laugh? Ma’am,’ she added as an afterthought.

  ‘Well, I think so. And, if there are any bugs in here it’ll probably scoff them so we needn’t be worried about them either.’ Sam saw the pallor on her roomie’s face.

  Cooper looked as if she might faint. ‘Bugs?’ she whispered. Maybe Cooper wasn’t as interested in the local wildlife as she was.

  ‘Well, mossies and the odd fly.’ Maybe now wasn’t the time to mention things like praying mantises, termites and soldier ants.

  Cooper shuddered. ‘Thank gawd we don’t have a window,’ she said with feeling. ‘One less way for the little sods to get to us.’

  Sam didn’t think that her idea to leave the door open for ventilation was going to meet with approval.

  Immi was standing at the back of the queue for supper in the huge building that had been designated as the cookhouse. No separate messes for the various ranks here, but one vast roofed space with mesh for windows instead of glass. The mesh let the air pass through but kept the bugs and creatures out, or that was the idea; climate control it wasn’t. In fact, thought Immi, everything here was rubbish and as for the ablutions…! She shuddered. Honestly, she thought, she’d rather dig a hole in the ground. At least she’d know that she was the first to use it. The state of some of the lavs… She felt her flesh crawl.

  ‘Wotcha, Immi.’

  ‘Luke.’ She was genuinely pleased to see him. ‘Hey, how was the skiing?’

  ‘Great snow, nice chalet, plenty to eat. Yeah, it was all OK. What about your leave?’

  Immi shrugged. ‘The usual – ate too much, drank too much, had a row with my mum…’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Nah, it was blinding. Honest.’

  Luke didn’t look convinced. ‘I’m pleased.’

  The queue shuffled forward slowly and finally the pair reached the serving counter. Immi surveyed the choices, trying to decide which was the least minging option. In the end she opted for steak pie.

  ‘Although gawd knows what animal they got this stewing steak off,’ said the cook.

  Immi took her meal and a large glass of water over to an empty table. Luke followed and she felt her heart quicken slightly. Being behind her in the queue hadn’t been a matter of choice but luck, but now he was choosing to sit with her. Maybe she was in with a shot. Maybe he did like her a bit. And she so wanted that to be the case because she was as smitten with him as a teenager with a crush on Harry Styles.

  They sat next to each other and ate their food. Or rather, Luke ate his, wolfing it down, but Immi spent most of her time trying to find the fibres of meat in amongst gobbets of fat.

  ‘Can I join you? Only there aren’t a lot of familiar faces here.’

  Immi looked up from her plate, her brow still furrowed in concentration, and saw Captain Lewis. ‘Oh, yeah. Of course.’ But inwardly she was sighing with annoyance. Why didn’t Lewis go and sit with someone else instead of playing gooseberry with her and Luke? Bollocks.

  Captain Lewis sat down and slid her plate off her tray. ‘I chose the steak pie,’ she announced. Then she looked at the lumps of fat arranged around the edge of Immi’s plate and back at her own plate. ‘Oh well,’ she said, as she tucked in. ‘When you’ve been to boarding school you can eat most things.’

  Immi gazed in horror at the first forkful of meat that Captain Lewis put in her mouth. Yuck. How could anyone eat that sort of shit?

  Around them the cookhouse was buzzing with conversation and the occasional burst of laughter but the three people at Immi’s table munched in silence. Then Captain Lewis said, ‘So, did you both have a lovely Christmas? And isn’t it strange to go from winter to this glorious sunshine in a few hours.’

  ‘Brill, thanks,’ said Immi. ‘How about you?’

  ‘I spent it with friends and then New Year with more friends, so it was good. Quite jolly.’

  Captain Lewis turned towards Luke. ‘And how about you, Corporal Blake?’

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he abruptly pushed his plate away from him, despite the fact that he’d only eaten half his meal and stood up. ‘Sorry, things to do,’ he muttered.

  Like what? wondered Immi, as he strode off.

  Captain Lewis looked bewildered. ‘You wouldn’t think asking someone about their leave was a hanging offence, would you?’

  ‘He’s just a moody git. It’s nothing personal.’

  Captain Lewis looked dumbfounded for a second or two, then she said, ‘I shouldn’t be surprised by his behaviour; he’s hardly the life and soul of the party down at the LAD. He always looks at me like… well, never mind.’

  Immi was thrown. Maybe she’d read Luke wrong. Maybe he didn’t like Captain Lewis. So much for her previous assumption. ‘Well… I’m only guessing but I don’t think he’s got a great home life. But he can be nice, honest,’ she added. ‘Yesterday I caught him putting out some leftovers for those stray moggies that hang around the back of the cookhouse. He put a bowl of water down for them too.’

  ‘Almost Saint Francis,’ said Lewis. She returned to eating her lunch. ‘He’s not your average squaddie, is he?’

  ‘You’ve noticed.’

  Captain Lewis took another mouthful, chewed and swallowed. ‘I am his boss.’

  ‘He never talks about his background,’ said Immi. ‘Or he doesn’t to me.’ She looked hopefully at Captain Lewis.

  ‘A totally closed book.’

  Oh well, thought Immi. His mystery was one of the things that made him so attractive.

  Maddy felt like a zombie. Quite apart from the fact that she was suffering from sleep deprivation due to the worry about Seb and their future keeping her awake at night, Nathan had chosen to start being difficult about almost everything, squirming and crying when she tried to do the least thing: strap him into his pushchair; dress him; change his nappy; anything. Maddy simply didn’t have the energy for these battles and was horribly aware that she was coming dangerously close to losing her temper with him. Maybe he was reacting to her stress, she thought. She wished she could explain to the little mite that his behaviour was hardly going to make the situation any better.

  Still, she thought as she sat on the sofa, feeling sorry for herself wasn’t getting anything done. She had a check-up with the midwife at the surgery and she had to get Nathan ready to go out. Maybe, once she’d got herself into town, she’d take herself for a coffee or do some window-shopping. Perhaps getting out and about, doing normal stuff, would make her feel a bit more human.

  Wearily she hauled herself upright, trying to ignore the twinge in her back and the way the baby’s foot seemed to have jammed itself under her ribs. Had pregnancy been this bad with Nate? She scooped Nathan up off the floor and was rewarded with a wail of protest. Maddy sighed as the wail grew louder and Nate started to bang her face with his pudgy fists, yelling, ‘No, no, no.’

  She grabbed his hands with her free hand to stop him hitting her. She knew she ought to try and explain to him that what he was doing wasn’t nice or kind but, frankly, she couldn’t be arsed. She took his all-in-one padded suit off the bottom of the banisters and sat on the stairs while she forced her now screaming son into it and did up the zip. By the time she’d finished she felt utterly drained. Sheesh, and now she had to face the next battle – that of strapping him into his car seat.

  By the time she’d done that, loaded his buggy and got her own coat on, the last thing she wanted to do was drive to Warminster and spend half an hour sitting in the doctor’s waiting room because the midwife’s clinic always ran late. Oh the joy of not only having her own badly behaved toddler to contend with, but other people’s too.

  It seemed to take for ever to get weighed, measured and checked and then receive the inevitable lecture about looking after herself – ‘You look very tired, Maddy, are you getting enough sleep?’ – to which she’d wanted to say, ‘I think my husband is having an a
ffair, I think his mistress might be stalking me, I am out of my mind with worry, so of course I’m not.’ But instead she’d nodded and forced a smile that said she was getting as much as was possible with a wriggly baby that liked nothing better than practising its gymnastic skills at three in the morning.

  When she finally escaped she seriously thought about going home, but the weather was nice and Nathan was looking sleepy so she left her car in the now almost-empty surgery car park and headed into Warminster. By the time she was on the High Street her son was out for the count. So what to do now? Browse around the sales for clothes she wouldn’t be able to get into for weeks and weeks, go for a coffee, window-shop…? Clothes shopping was pointless and frankly her back ached. A nice sit-down with a cuppa was what she fancied. She headed for the coffee shop.

  ‘Coo-ee. Oi, Mads.’

  Maddy stopped in her tracks and spun round. ‘Jenna. Lovely to see you.’

  Jenna peered at Maddy. ‘You all right?’

  Maddy nodded, trying to look bright and chipper. ‘Yeah, of course. You know, big with child.’

  ‘You’re certainly that,’ said Jenna, eyeing her bump. ‘When did you say you’re due?’

  ‘March.’

  ‘Not long now.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Your old man involved with this exercise?’

  Maddy nodded again. ‘Yes, he went out with the advance party so, assuming it all goes according to plan, he’ll be back in time for this one’s appearance.’ She patted the bump and was rewarded with a sharp kick that made her catch her breath.

  ‘Something the matter?’ asked Jenna with genuine concern.

  ‘Just the baby being boisterous.’

  Jenna wrinkled her nose. ‘I have to say, I’m not sold on this pregnancy lark. Can’t say I’m planning on trying it.’

  ‘No? You don’t know what you’re missing.’

  ‘I think I do. Anyway, you got time for a coffee?’

  Maddy nodded. ‘You must be a mind reader. I was on my way for one – thought I’d treat myself to a cappu and a muffin while Nate is asleep.’