Balancing Act

by Rachel Churcher

  “Am I close?” I can hear the anger in her voice. “Ringing any bells?”

  I keep my hands up in front of me. She’s too close. I know what she can do, and I don’t want to have to defend myself.

  I don’t want trouble from Lee.

  I don’t want a black eye, either.

  “So I started thinking, and there’s something I want to know.” She sounds calm again. She’s almost smiling. “Was it you, telling William Richards where to find his convoy?” Her face darkens, and she raises her voice. “Where to find the coach I was travelling on? Where to find my recruits?”

  She slams the drawer shut, and I jump back, lifting my hands a little higher.

  I can’t breathe.

  She’s right. She’s worked it all out. She knows I sent William to raid the coach, and she knows I gave the order that put the bullet in her knee. I ended her RTS career.

  And I tried to take her to bed.

  She knows. She knows, and I’m in trouble.

  “Are you the leak, David? Are you the person who makes the bombings possible?”

  Lee is going to roast me. He’s going to lock me up.

  “Are you the soldier with the shiny government equipment?” She shakes her head, and all I can think about is the suitcases on the Lindisfarne Lady, ready to blow a hole in the centre of Canterbury. “I bet they love it when you turn up. When you give them all the best toys.”

  I can see Emma, breathless, her back against the shop front in the Marlowe Arcade. Jen, meeting me on the seafront.

  “When you tell them which sites will be miraculously unguarded when they want to plant their bombs.”

  Emma. Jen. Kieran. The trawler, tipping through the waves.

  I step back.

  “They must be very disappointed when the troops turn up to arrest them, afterwards. Do they figure it out? Or do you manage to convince them that they did something wrong. Something to deserve that firing squad?”

  Emma in an orange jumpsuit. Jen, facing the guns.

  She knows.

  I take another step back, gathering my thoughts. Figuring out what to say.

  The desk hits my thigh, and I’m cornered.

  I don’t know what she’s going to do. And then she smiles, and shrugs.

  “I guess it doesn’t really matter, does it? Someone’s handing them military-grade equipment. It might as well be you, right?”

  I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t know what she expects from me.

  She walks round the desk, and sits back in her chair, watching me. I don’t let her out of my sight.

  I make myself breathe, and I make myself wait. There’s no point answering her if she has more to say. I need to know what she knows.

  She leans forward, elbows on the desk, and lowers her voice.

  “Except that it does matter, David. It matters, because my best friend was on that coach.” There’s ice, creeping up my spine. I know this tone of voice. She used this on the guard from Makepeace Farm. She used it on Elizabeth.

  This is how she convinces people to confess. This is how she gets inside their heads. She’s calm. She’s reasonable.

  But what she’s saying is wildfire.

  “You told William Richards, and all his resistance fighters, where to find us. And Dan, and Bex – they raided the coach.”

  I don’t like this. I don’t like where this is going. She still sounds utterly calm.

  “They killed my best friend. And for good measure, Dan put a bullet in my knee. My knee that, after the dancing that had us both sidetracked the other night, hurts as if it’s just been shot.”

  They killed my best friend.

  Whatever I say now, whatever I do, I will always be the person who did this to her.

  I’ve let Lee down. There’s no way Katrina Smith will ever trust me again.

  Even if I say nothing. Even if I walk away, she knows. And she’s blaming me.

  “I live with that every day, David.” She still sounds as if she’s discussing the weather. “With the pain, and without my best friend. And I think that’s your job. Making friends with people, using them to keep you in power. I think you did this – to William, to Jackson, and to me.”

  She sits back in her chair and waits.

  I take a breath.

  I could deny everything she’s said, but she’s too smart for that. She’s already figured this much out – she won’t believe a denial.

  I could say nothing. Take the files, and leave.

  And that would confirm everything.

  Or I could remind her that she’s new here. She’s the RTS girl, and I’m the one on the Terrorism Committee.

  I could make her understand.

  She’s figured out my secrets. I’ve got nothing left to lose.

  I step to the front of her desk, and give her a round of applause. She’s right, about everything. She’s earned this.

  I watch the colour fade from her cheeks, the angry pink turning to ice on her skin.

  I keep my eyes on hers, and she watches me, holding her breath. I mime picking up a phone.

  “Hi Will,” I say, smiling. “Yeah. It’s me. I’ve got a great prize for you this time. A coachload of recruits and all their armour and guns.” I make it sound as if I’m promising him a chocolate factory and a unicorn. She’s clenching her jaw, watching every move I make. “Oh, yes – there will be staff on board, but don’t worry. They won’t be armed.” I’m grinning now. “Easy target. I’ll send you the schedule.”

  I mime putting the phone down, and watch her, smiling.

  She takes a breath, fighting to stay in control. Her fists tighten.

  It’s everything she figured out, and everything she feared. Her knuckles are white, her fingernails digging into her palms.

  She thought I’d be afraid, if she confronted me with this. She thought I’d – what? Beg her to stop? Beg her not to tell anyone?

  She’s not in control here. She’s Bracken’s babysitter, and nothing more. Just because she knows the truth, that doesn’t give her power.

  It puts her in danger, and I’m done helping out the new girl.

  I’m done wasting time on Corporal Smith.

  “Get out, David,” she says. Her voice may be quiet, but there’s no mistaking the rage behind it.

  Time to walk away.

  I pull the last of the files from the drawer, and let the door swing closed behind me.

  Playbook

  Ketty knows what I’ve done. She knows who gave her the scars on her knee, and she knows who killed her friend.

  I knew there were casualties after the coach raid, but I’ve never bothered to check the details. That was William’s screw-up, not mine.

  I look him up in Lee’s files. Liam Jackson, Senior Recruit. Stupid enough to bring a gun onto the coach, and idiotic enough to exchange fire with opponents in full armour. Ketty’s report said he took a bullet to the chest for threatening Dan, and it sounds as if he deserved it.

  All they had to do was sit still, and let the kids raid the luggage lockers. Liam Jackson couldn’t handle that – he had to be the hero. Without armour, without backup.

  Knucklehead. She’s better off without him.

  And now?

  I’m relieved. No more pretending. No more drama.

  No more curves, scars and attitude, either. No hope of ever bedding Ketty Smith.

  At least she knows where she stands. How insignificant she is in this organisation. How easily she can lose everything she’s worked for.

  Perhaps that will keep her under control.

  *****

  I’ve sorted through Ketty’s files, and I’ve made notes on everything that still needs work. I’m struggling to keep my eyes open, and I can’t stop thinking about Rose. Dark hair, dark eyes. Her hands on my skin. The scent of cinnamon and roses.

  So when she walks into my office in full uniform and gives me a smart salute, it takes me a moment to react.

  “At ease, Private.” I’m trying not to la
ugh, but she drops her salute and clasps her hands behind her back, eyes fixed on the wall behind me.

  “What can I do for you, Rose?” I sit forward in my seat, waiting.

  She relaxes her shoulders, and smiles at me.

  “I came to tell you to meet me at seven, Sir,” she says, as if she’s giving an official report.

  “Really, Private?” I raise an eyebrow, and smile back. “And where am I meeting you at seven?”

  “Outside my flat. I’ll be waiting.”

  I pretend to consider her invitation.

  “And why would I be meeting you?”

  Her smile brightens. “I think you should take me to dinner. Somewhere nice.”

  I nod, slowly, watching her. We’re both trying not to laugh. “That sounds acceptable.” I keep my gaze locked on hers. “Will there be coffee?”

  She thinks for a moment, a blush of pink darkening her cheeks. “I think there’s a good chance of that.”

  “Then I will see you at seven, Private. Dismissed.”

  “Yes, Sir,” she says, grinning.

  I’m sure I hear voices and giggling from the corridor as she walks away.

  *****

  I head home at five to tidy the flat, work out, and take a shower. Another night with Rose is exactly what I need, but it feels dangerous. I don’t want a relationship. I don’t want drama. I don’t want to lose control.

  But I do want Rose.

  I want her hands on my skin. I want coffee in bed. Early morning showers and no hangovers.

  I want everything she’s giving me, but I don’t want to commit.

  And I don’t know what she wants.

  I think about Emma. Tears in the night, and a warning from Jen. She didn’t want to walk away when I left. We didn’t have time for drama – we had an expiry date, and she couldn’t afford to upset me. I was the one with the supplies for fighting back. With money for boats and suitcases and expensive restaurants. I was their hotline to the resistance.

  But there’s no expiry date on me and Rose. No agreement on when I get to walk away. No limit to the drama when I’ve had enough.

  I need to be careful.

  *****

  This time, dinner is expensive. I pull some Home Forces strings and book us a table at the Royal Hotel in Mayfair. I call a taxi, and make sure I’m early to meet Rose.

  She’s expecting me to arrive on foot, so when I step out of the car and hold the door for her she’s delighted. She reaches across the back seat, and takes my hand in hers. I can’t help smiling as the taxi pulls away.

  When we reach the restaurant, she gives me an approving smile. We walk through the hotel lobby, past velvet sofas and sparkling chandeliers, and she looks completely at home. Elegant, well dressed, flawless hair and makeup. Someone takes our coats and shows us to our table, and she’s looking around like a child in a toy shop.

  “All this for me, David?” she asks when we’ve taken our seats.

  “All this for us.” I shrug, and smile. “You said you wanted somewhere nice.”

  She sits up straight in her chair, and smooths her dress over her toned stomach. “Yes,” she says, nodding. “Yes, I did.”

  “So this will do?”

  She looks around, and nods again. “This will do.”

  And she grins.

  *****

  The taxi picks us up at ten, and we hold hands all the way back to my flat, the street lamps painting our faces with light and shadow as we head across London in the dark.

  At the front door she takes the keys from my hand and kisses me, one hand against my cheek. She opens the door, and we step inside, speechless as we reach for each other. We drop each other’s coats and gloves in the hall. I kick off my shoes as we reach the living room. She sits on the arm of the sofa and I tug on the zips of her boots, dropping them as she reaches for my shirt and … her hands are on my skin. Her fingers trace the muscles on my chest. I slide the zip of her dress along her spine and she steps out of it, kicking it away.

  She’s here. All of her, manicured and toned and perfect, taking my hand and leading me to my bed.

  We haven’t said a word since the restaurant, and there’s nothing we need to say.

  I follow her, and she takes charge. She whispers to me what she wants and I do everything she tells me to do. She’s like a flame, her skin hot under my fingers, and she breathes my name like a prayer.

  Somewhere in the middle of the night I realise I could hold on to this. I could put up with drama if I could keep this perfect feeling. I could leave Lee’s demands and Lydia’s girls behind. I could forget Emma and the untouchable Corporal Smith, and come home every day to this.

  The thought makes me smile as I drift into sleep, my pillow scented with cinnamon and roses, her arm a gentle binding round my chest.

  *****

  When I wake, it’s to the smell of coffee, and silence in the flat. I reach out, but Rose’s pillow is empty, the sheets cold. There’s no water running. No one in the shower.

  I follow the trail of clothes into the living room, but there’s nothing left of hers. I step over my trousers and shirt, pick up my shoes and drop them in the hall, then head to the kitchen, yawning.

  And stop.

  There’s a note, on the worksurface.

  I step across the room, my stomach clenching, the tiles cold under my feet. I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

  She’s left me a note.

  The perfect woman. The perfect night. And she’s left me a note.

  Rose’s handwriting is neat, precise, and feminine.

  Good morning, gorgeous.

  She’s used the notepad I always use. The pen I keep in the kitchen drawer.

  I shake my head and run a hand over my hair, smiling.

  I made coffee, but you didn’t wake up.

  I can’t believe she’s done this. I can’t believe I’m reading a ‘good morning’ note in my own kitchen.

  This is what I do. This is how I walk away from the girl in my bed without upsetting her.

  This is how I avoid small talk and drama, and move on with my day. Keep the memories, but lose the girl.

  And now Rose has done it to me.

  Goodbye, David. It’s been fun. Your reputation as a legend is safe. Thanks for the entertainment.

  And she’s drawn a smiley face in the shape of a heart.

  She’s said goodbye. There’s no way this is anything but an ending.

  My chest is tight. There’s a lump in my throat. I’m leaning on the worksurface, every muscle in my arms straining to keep me from falling.

  My perfect world has exploded. My hands are shaking. I take a breath, trying to work out how I feel.

  I’m angry. Offended that she’s not waiting for me in the shower or waking me with coffee in bed.

  I’m disappointed. Last night was perfect. I don’t want that to stop.

  But there’s a part of me that’s laughing. I know I deserve this, and Rose has delivered it perfectly. She knew what she wanted, she took it, and she left.

  She gave me everything I needed. No strings, no commitment, no awkward morning after. And she said goodbye in a way she knew I’d understand. She spared me the drama, and she made a clean break.

  She followed my playbook, and she left me clutching at memories.

  It’s what I need, and it’s what I deserve.

  There will be other girls. There will be other nights. But this makes me realise how much I wanted Rose.

  Jake

  “David!” Lydia jumps to her feet as I walk into the coffee room. “I heard there was gossip.”

  She’s laughing. Waiting to hear my side of this morning’s story.

  I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want her to know how I feel. For once, this is none of her business.

  I hold my hands in front of me, shaking my head, but that only makes her laugh louder. This isn’t where I want to dissect my nights with Rose. I don’t want to think about Rose at all. I’m tired, and I have work to
do.

  I turn, and head back to the corridor, Lydia shouting at me to wait.

  I’ll have coffee upstairs. I’d rather meet Brigadier Lee than Sergeant Wheelan this morning.

  And I’d rather not bump into Rose.

  *****

  The phone is ringing when I reach my office, and I hurry to pick it up.

  “Corporal? This is Monitoring. Is the brigadier available?”

  I put the caller on hold, and knock on Lee’s door.

  “Yes?” He sounds impatient as I step into his office.

  “Sir.” He nods. “Call from Monitoring. Shall I put it through?”

  He raises one eyebrow, then nods, and reaches for his phone. I close his door and connect the call, wondering what the spying department has picked up. What it has to do with Lee.

  I don’t have to wait long to find out.

  “Is there no end to that man’s incompetence?” Lee is shouting as he throws the door open.

  “Sir?”

  He watches me for a moment, then takes a breath, lowering his voice.

  “Am I imagining it, or was Colonel Bracken negotiating to have Jake Taylor brought to London?”

  I nod. “Yes, Sir.”

  “He assured me he was working hard. Talking to the Scottish government. Making them all sorts of offers, and giving them assurances about Taylor’s safety in our custody.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “His reports were positive. Slow progress, but moving in the right direction.” I have to smother a smile at his ruthless impression of Bracken. “He was sure our misbehaving recruit would be in the cells and on trial in the foreseeable future.” I nod, and let Lee talk. “So how do you explain the conversation I’ve just had?”

  I shake my head. I know this is bad, but I don’t know what he’s going to tell me. I don’t know what provoked this rage.

  He folds his arms across his chest and fixes me with an angry stare. I can feel my stomach knotting. I don’t know what to expect.