Soldiers' Wives

by Fiona Field

  ‘Hon, this is a big ask,’ said Caro, ‘but Will is back and wants feeding, and I’m out of bread. The kids ate the last for their tea and the Spar is shut. Any chance you can bail me out?’

  Thank God, thought Maddy, a sensible request, not something that was going to require a huge personal sacrifice of either her time or her career prospects or both. ‘Good grief, yes. It’s not a big ask at all, I’ve got at least one loaf in the freezer, if not several.’

  Caro followed her into the house as Maddy went to find the bread. ‘I see you’re still battling with the move,’ she said, looking at the piles of kitchen equipment still waiting to be put away.

  Maddy returned with the loaf. ‘I’m being pathetically slow, aren’t I?’ She knew of some wives who could get a house completely straight in just a few days.

  Caro flashed her a smile. ‘Absolutely not. In fact I think you’re doing wonderfully well, considering you did the move on your own with a tiny baby.’

  ‘Why is it that us wives always seem to end up doing it? The men seem to have to be in their new post before we can leave the old house, or go straight off on an exercise the instant we arrive.’

  ‘They plan it that way,’ said Caro, giggling. ‘Actually, I shouldn’t joke, they probably do!’ Maddy handed over the loaf. ‘Thanks,’ said Caro. ‘I’ll bring you a replacement in the morning. Seb back?’

  Maddy nodded. ‘Home and already in the bath with a large drink.’

  ‘Just like mine. I’d better go and wake him before he dissolves.’

  Maddy shut the door behind Caro and slumped. She heard movement upstairs. Seb must be out of his bath. She offered up a little prayer that he didn’t want food or to tell her all about the exercise and that he just wanted to collapse into bed, because then she could do that too with a clear conscience.

  She unpacked another few items and then, bugger, the bathroom door opened and shut followed by the thump, thump of Seb’s feet on the stairs. Could he make any more noise? she thought, irritably.

  ‘Whah, whah…’

  That was all she fucking needed. She waited for Seb’s footsteps to stop and go back upstairs to get Nate but, no, he carried on.

  ‘The baby’s crying,’ he said, entering the sitting room in his dressing gown.

  Maddy stumbled past him, fighting back tears of exhaustion and frustration. ‘Of course he’s fucking crying,’ she snapped. ‘It’s all he does when some prat wakes him up!’

  She ignored the look of hurt on Seb’s face. Tough. Maybe next time he wouldn’t barge about like a sodding elephant.

  The next morning, while Nate grizzled in his bouncy chair, Maddy tackled another box of possessions. Every now and again she gave the chair a gentle push with her toe to keep it in motion, which stopped Nate’s muted wails escalating into full-blown screams. Seb was, as always on a Saturday morning, down at the gym doing a punishing fitness routine, and although Maddy had dropped a heavy hint that she could do with a hand around the house instead, he hadn’t picked up on it. She tried not to feel annoyed as she unwrapped more crockery and found space in the tatty kitchen units to store them. She had known how much he adored his rowing when she married him, only back then she hadn’t been left holding the baby. Literally.

  The doorbell rang as she slammed a cupboard door shut and, scooping Nate out of his chair, she went to answer it, hoping that it was Seb back early.

  ‘Caro.’

  Her neighbour waved a loaf of bread. ‘Here you go,’ she said, thrusting it at Maddy.

  ‘You didn’t have to, honest. It was only a loaf.’

  ‘But, having cleared my debt, I am now free to borrow again, and next time it might be something really important, like gin.’ Caro grinned. She looked down at the baby in the crook of Maddy’s arm. ‘And who do we have here?’ She rubbed her finger across Nate’s cheek and was rewarded with a wail. ‘Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to upset him.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Maddy. ‘Nathan cries at everything.’ She tried hard to smile.

  ‘That’s not a nice thing to do to your poor mummy.’ Caro looked up at Maddy and clocked the dark circles under her neighbour’s eyes. ‘Tell you what, how about a tea break. I bet you’ve been busy all morning and up since sparrow’s fart.’

  Maddy considered the endless bloody boxes that still needed seeing to and then thought, sod it. ‘That’s a brill idea.’ She flung the door wide. ‘Come in, just excuse the chaos.’

  She led Caro into the kitchen and, still carrying Nathan, she began to fill the kettle one-handed.

  ‘Let me,’ said Caro. She gently took Nathan from his mother and dandled him on her lap. Nathan, for once, didn’t start bawling. ‘No husband?’ asked Caro.

  ‘Fitness training,’ said Maddy as she plugged in the kettle.

  Caro raised an eyebrow.

  ‘He rows for the army,’ explained Maddy.

  ‘Oh, so he’s the guy who nearly made the Olympics,’ exclaimed Caro. ‘I heard on the grapevine that the regiment was getting some amazing athlete.’

  Maddy shook her head. ‘I think the story you heard has got a bit exaggerated. I don’t think that was ever really on the cards, although a couple of his rowing buddies made it. He was out in Afghanistan when the selection process took place, so he was never really a contender.’

  ‘If he was in Afghan in 2012…’ She counted up on her fingers. ‘So when he came back…?’ She looked at Nate.

  ‘Pretty much. We only planned to get married, not start a family, but hey.’ Maddy shrugged and then grinned. ‘It was quite a honeymoon. Tea?’

  ‘Please – milk, no sugar. Still, you must be delighted.’

  Maddy nodded enthusiastically, but she felt she was trying to convince herself as much as Caro. Of course she adored Nate – she just thought she’d adore him even more if she could get a whole night’s sleep. She shoved teabags into a couple of mugs.

  ‘I’ve got two boys, two and four,’ said Caro. ‘They’re out with their dad at the park right now. Tell you what, why don’t I take Nathan home with me for a couple of hours, which’ll let you get on in peace? It wouldn’t be any trouble, honest.’ She gave Maddy a winning smile.

  Maddy was utterly torn. Jeez, yes, she could do with a break but, firstly, she barely knew her neighbour and secondly, Nate was hardly easy, so it seemed a crap deal for Caro. And what on earth would Seb say if he came home to find that she’d palmed his first-born off on a virtual stranger? As she stirred the mugs she weighed up the pros and cons.

  ‘Caro, that’s really, really kind but I can’t.’

  ‘No worries. The offer is genuine though, and there if you need it.’ She leaned forward and posted Nate back into his bouncy chair and set it in motion before taking her tea.

  ‘Crikey,’ said Maddy. ‘He isn’t yelling.’

  ‘So, while peace reigns, why don’t I tell you about the camp?’

  They sipped their tea and Caro gave Maddy a list of facilities, from the nearest surgery to a decent washing-machine repairman. ‘And then there’s a pretty good Wives’ Club.’

  Maddy looked blank.

  Caro shook her head. ‘Surely you had a Wives’ Club at your last posting?’

  ‘Might have been one, but I wasn’t much of an army wife. I worked almost right up to the moment I had Nate and then we moved. I didn’t join in much.’

  Caro looked at her. ‘So it’s all change for you: new house, new baby, no job?’

  Maddy nodded. ‘In a nutshell.’

  ‘Do you want to go back to work?’

  ‘Ideally, but I don’t think there’s much call for biochemists around here. And Mrs Notley won’t approve if I do.’

  Caro shook her head. ‘Sod her. She’s the least of your worries if you want to have a career. Frankly, the biggest hurdle is moving every couple of years. By the time you’ve found a job, you’ll probably only hang on to it for about a year or so and then you’ll be off again. It makes your CV look a bit odd – a bit busy, shall we say. Anyway,’ she con
tinued, brightly, ‘in the meantime you have no excuse not to come to the Wives’ Club. Next week it’s a talk on making Christmas cakes and you’ll score a Brownie point with Mrs N just by showing your face.’

  Maddy tried to look enthusiastic – Christmas cakes? Already? – and would she get drummed off the patch if she just bought one? And did she want one of Mrs Effing Notley’s Brownie points? But then Seb might want her to collect a few. God, this army game was a nightmare, thought Maddy. She thought she’d just married a soldier, not joined up herself.

  ‘Right,’ said Caro. ‘What else do you need to know?’

  ‘Has Mrs Notley got a Christian name?’

  Caro snorted and rolled her eyes. ‘Ann, but no one uses that. If you get really well in with her – dinner party invitations and that sort of shit – you might, might, get asked to call her Mrs N. Even Julia Frenchay, the garrison commander’s wife, isn’t as stuffy, and her husband is a brigadier, not just a poxy lieutenant colonel.’

  Maddy nodded. ‘So she really is stuffy – it’s not just me.’

  ‘Oh no. So you’ve met her then.’

  Maddy nodded. ‘She waltzed in here a couple of days after I’d arrived; took one look at me, Nate and the state of the house and, from what I could see, decided I was a lost cause.’

  ‘That’s Mrs N. But don’t worry, she doesn’t think anyone can match up to her standards, so you’re in good company with almost all the other wives – well, the junior ones anyway. Some of the major’s wives try and compete. So, what else should I tell you about? I know, hair! There’s a nice hairdresser run by a woman called Zoë. She’s got a really great stylist called Jenna and if you ask Jenna nicely and quietly, she’ll do home visits. It makes life a lot easier, I can tell you. Probably a good idea if you get your hair done with her first at Zoë’s, because, if you don’t get on, you’re not committed to anything; but she hasn’t made a mess of my hair yet.’

  ‘Thanks for the tip,’ said Maddy. She ran her fingers through her rich chestnut hair. ‘I really need a good cut. What with my old job, then Nathan and the move, I haven’t had my hair done for months. God, the idea of a bit of pampering…’

  ‘Well, take up my offer of babysitting Nate and get yourself down there.’

  4

  On Sunday, Chrissie finished sorting out the last of her kit from the exercise, got her uniform ready for Monday morning and, with little else to do to fill her day, took herself off for a run. She loped through the barracks, past the officers’ married patch, then the soldiers’ one, and on down the road that led to the nearest town. She planned to run round the ring road and then over the hill to the rear of the barracks and in through the back gate. Five miles, she reckoned, and not too much of a challenge.

  She jogged on at a steady pace, her iPod plugged into her ears, her thoughts roaming randomly, paying attention to the light Sunday morning traffic and her surroundings only when necessary. She reached a set of traffic lights that would allow her to cross a busy junction and was jogging on the spot as she waited for them to change. She leapt out of her skin when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She spun round, ripping her earphones out, ready to confront whoever it was.

  ‘Lee!’ Despite the fact that her heart was already pumping from the run, it still quickened with pleasure at seeing a friendly face.

  ‘Thank God,’ Lee panted. ‘I thought it was you. I’ve been trying to catch up with you for ages and then suddenly I thought I might have been chasing a complete stranger. That would have been embarrassing.’

  The lights changed. For a second Chrissie didn’t respond, while she assimilated the fact that Lee – gorgeous, hunky Lee – had chased her. Her! Then she remembered; he was Jenna’s gorgeous, hunky Lee. Oh well.

  The insistent beeping of the crossing brought her back to the real world.

  ‘Come on,’ she said, not wanting to miss the brief opportunity the little green man offered them to get across. They jogged over, strides matching, and continued along the pavement towards the town.

  ‘You run really well,’ said Lee.

  ‘For a girl?’

  Lee laughed. ‘No, for anyone.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Chrissie accepted the compliment and felt herself lighten up. ‘I ran for the battalion in the five thousand metres in the inter-unit cup.’

  ‘Impressive.’

  ‘I don’t think there were any other female contenders from 1 Herts,’ she answered truthfully.

  They ran on some more in silence.

  ‘Jenna doesn’t run, then?’ asked Chrissie.

  Lee guffawed. ‘Jenna? You must be joking. Her idea of a workout is turning the pages of a fashion mag. Don’t get me wrong, she looks after herself…’

  ‘But not in this sort of way.’

  ‘No. And she couldn’t do the stuff you do.’

  ‘I couldn’t dye hair,’ Chrissie countered. No, she thought, working in a hairdresser’s would be like being buried alive.

  ‘You could if you were trained.’

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘It takes a lot to cope with blood and guts.’

  Chrissie slid a sideways look at him at the word guts. Had it been deliberate? She caught Lee staring back at her, one eyebrow lifted. Yes, it bloody was.

  ‘It was a rotten trick, that,’ he said.

  ‘So you’ve known all along who I am.’

  He nodded.

  ‘You won’t tell anyone else, will you? I mean, I think it’s just you, me and Phil who are in the picture. I am so embarrassed at making a fool of myself like that.’

  ‘Hey.’ Lee looked at her as they ran side by side. ‘You had a funny turn, that’s all. You got over it, carried on, did your job. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about there. The whole incident was designed to test the medics to the max.’

  ‘Maybe. But being sick over a casualty isn’t in the Patient Treatment Handbook.’ As she said it, she was aware that he’d remembered her from that incident, had deliberately caught up with her today, and was being really kind about how she’d made such a prat of herself. Nice guy, she thought. Jenna’s nice guy, she reminded herself again. Anyway, even if he wasn’t spoken for she didn’t want a relationship, did she. Right? Right!

  They’d reached the edge of the local town. ‘Where now?’ asked Lee.

  ‘Around the dual carriageway and then back over Brandon Hill.’

  Lee’s eyes widened. ‘The long way?’

  ‘Why not? Race you.’ And with that she shot off. She was several hundred yards on before Lee caught up with her.

  ‘Jeez, Chrissie,’ he panted. ‘You might be able to run like Paula Radcliffe, but I’m no Mo Farah. Slow down a bit.’

  Chrissie slackened the pace a little. ‘I like to delude myself I’m like Jess Ennis.’

  Lee glanced at her. ‘Good shout.’

  ‘Don’t be daft.’

  ‘Jess is well fit.’

  ‘Yes, she is.’

  ‘So are you.’

  ‘Thanks.’ For a second she hoped he was referring to her looks, rather than to her athleticism, but then reality kicked in. Of course he didn’t think she was fit in the ‘good-looking’ sense, not when he was married to the luscious Jenna. She changed the subject. ‘Immi says you’ve been away on a load of courses.’

  ‘The old platoon commander thought I had potential, so I’ve been away a lot, getting some education and stuff that I’ll need, if I get promoted. Got to hope this new guy, Captain Fanshaw, thinks the same.’

  ‘I’m sure he will.’

  ‘And then, just before the exercise, I tried SAS selection.’

  ‘No!’ Chrissie was hugely impressed. ‘Really? How did you do?’

  ‘Failed. I went down with flu. One minute I was doing well, tabbing up the Brecon Beacons, the next I was being stretchered off with a temperature of 104.’

  ‘No way. But you must have felt shite long before then.’

  ‘I did a bit, but I thought they’d just put me down as some sort of malingering loser
.’

  ‘So it was a genuine case of man flu.’

  Lee nodded. ‘And if I ever get a head cold, I will never say I’ve got flu. Flu is evil.’

  ‘And you’re running already? Shit, you’re well hard.’

  ‘I’m not running well though, am I? My fitness took a real knock. And that’s why I wasn’t much cop on the exercise and got to lie down and play almost dead.’

  They ran in silence for some time, till they reached the base of Brandon Hill. The path up it was narrow, so they ran in single file to the top. There Chrissie stopped.

  ‘I’m not,’ she said, panting heavily, ‘quite as fit as I thought I was, either. No chance for fitness training on exercise.’

  ‘Well, if you want a running buddy…?’ offered Lee. ‘I mean, I need to get myself back in shape again too.’

  ‘Really?’

  He nodded. ‘I’d like it. Most of the lads in my platoon want to lie in their pits at weekends. It’s nice to find someone who wants to do running other than in a squad being beasted by a PTI. And I like to run on sports afternoons too.’

  ‘Brilliant. When we get back to the barracks we can swap mobile numbers. Jenna won’t mind, though, will she?’ asked Chrissie. Running was hardly like dating but, even so, she mightn’t be overly happy about her husband spending time with another woman, no matter how innocently.

  ‘Jenna? God, she doesn’t even surface till lunchtime when she isn’t working.’

  Which didn’t exactly answer Chrissie’s question, but was a good enough response to shut her conscience up. But not before she noticed that the prospect of running with Lee gave her a real buzz.

  Sunday segued into Monday and the rude awakening which came with reveille and the early morning run. Immi rolled out of bed, groaning and moaning about the unfairness of being expected to do PT at six thirty in the morning, long after Keelie and Gillie, who had both returned to barracks the night before, had already got dressed and left. It had taken five solid minutes of Chrissie haranguing her before she’d finally emerged, still complaining, from under the covers.