The man was relentless. He charmed and flattered every woman at that table and soon no teacher was left on the dance floor. He never talked to Sam directly, but he held her eyes more than most and Sam was reminded of why she had fallen for him so many years ago. He stayed with them a lot throughout the rest of the evening, excusing himself occasionally to return to his friends and as the night went on Sam found herself growing more and more curious as to who else he was with and why he didn’t want to talk to her.
Later on, as the night wore thin, she lost track of him altogether and decided to go looking for him herself.
As nonchalantly as she could, Sam wandered through the crowds, sticking to the dark spaces as much as possible. Completing a circuit with no sign of him at all, she decided she must have missed him somewhere. Sam refused to consider why she felt she needed to find him, she just did and that was all there was to it. So she began to double back, retracing her steps.
She was half way round when a hand reached out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her briskly to the side of the room. Dean held her against him, his aftershave wafting down around her and his warm chest within inches of her face. He let her pull away, still holding on to her wrist. He was well groomed, with a confident easy smile and in all that, he hadn’t spilled a drop of his drink. “Looking for someone?” he asked.
“No,” she lied.
“I don’t believe you.”
Sam was convinced her face must be crimson.
“You’ve been watching me all night,” he said.
“I have not.” Sam was mortified. “Besides, that’s rich coming from a guy who’s spent half his evening harassing my friends.”
“Harassing?” Dean smirked. “I think someone wanted a bit of ‘harassment’ herself. You’ve been looking for me. I was watching you.”
“No I haven’t. I–.”
“Yes you have. You’re a bloody awful liar, Sam, and an even worse spy.”
Sam tried to wriggle her wrist free.
“Oh no you don’t,” he said holding on tightly. “I didn’t put up with all of those giggling plain Janes over there for nothing, Sam Litton. I wanted to see you.”
Sam’s insides battled to escape as her nerves began to jitter. “I want you, Sam. And you want me too. You know you do. That’s why you haven’t been able to take your eyes off me. Even now you’re imagining what it would be like to press yourself up against me right here, right now.”
Sam was outraged. “I am not!”
Dean smiled. “No? Pity, because I was.” He leaned down and kissed her.
For a moment Sam fought to escape his clutches. She turned her face away and wriggled to free herself from his grasp, but her strength was no match for his and he seemed to know exactly where on her neck to kiss to weaken what little resolve she possessed after the amount she had drunk. “I want to feel your body against mine, Sam,” he said, his hot breath against her ear. “Kiss me, Sam. Put me out of my misery and just kiss me.” He guided her face to his and their lips were reunited.
Sam felt as if she had been drugged. Her body obeyed, sinking into the kiss, pressing up against him, but mentally she fought hard to set herself free. “Stop it, Dean. I can’t. I told you.” She caught her breath.
“The Prof? You’re being faithful to the Prof? That’s rich.” He gave a short laugh. “If it was the other way around I’m damn sure he wouldn’t be hanging around waiting for you.”
“You’re wrong.”
“Am I? Who’s known him the longest, then, Sam? Tell me, how much of his R and R did he actually spend with you?”
“A week.”
“A week. And the rest?”
“With his mum and dad.” Sam was feeling guilty about the kiss and resented this line of questioning.
“The Prof? Spend a week with his parents? Yeah, right! I rest my case. If he was any good at his job I could let it go, but he’s bloody dangerous. Lives depend on him out there and if he was anyone other than a Garrington he would never have made sergeant by now.”
Sam was angry. She started to pull away, but Dean caught her hand again.
“I’m sorry. That was out of order. I’ve been drinking. Forget I said anything. Really, Sam. Don’t let me ruin your night.” He let her go and she hurried back round to be with her friends, but she did not enjoy the rest of the evening, merely sank herself in the drinks that were freely flowing.
At five o’clock the following morning, Sam awoke feeling distinctly fragile. Light was already pouring in around the one good pair of curtains she owned. She rolled over and groaned. Why did she always wake up so early when she had a hangover? At that moment she would have given anything to be one of those lucky people who could just sleep through the whole thing. She thought about the night before. Oh yes, Dean. She had kissed Dean. No, surely he had kissed her? But she hadn’t put up much of a fight, had she? She groaned again. What the Hell had possessed her to go looking for him like that? It had been asking for trouble. She pulled her covers up over her head to hide. It must have been the drink, she thought. And in her defence, she had put a stop to it pretty quickly.
As she cowered beneath the covers, hiding from the trials of her complicated life, words began to filter through her hazy mind. She pushed them away. Two paracetamols and a glass of water later, Humphrey wandered over, obviously disturbed by the noise so early in the morning. Sam let one arm dangle out of the bed and stroked him feebly. Humphrey’s tail wagged eagerly, but to no avail and in the end he wandered back off to his bed.
A gruelling hour crawled passed and still Sam lay there, waiting impatiently for either her painkillers to kick in, or sleep to come. What had Dean been saying about Andy? He had as good as said he was no good at his job and endangering the lives of the other men out there. How could he say such a thing? And to imply Andy would never be faithful to her… well… that just wasn’t true. But he did have a point about Andy spending a week with his parents. He had also taken quite a few calls, from whom? She had never thought to ask while he was with her. One he had said was his parents, but then she only had his word for that. God, what was she thinking? Andy was hers. It would be too cruel to play with her heart like that and not feel the same way she did and he was not a cruel man. But what did she know? She had only really known him a week. Tears began to slip from her eyes. She tried to remember their time together, but the memories were distorting. Her beautiful man was slipping away and Sam felt the shadow of desolation cross her path. Her insides lurched and she leapt out of bed, desperate to reach the bathroom before she heaved.
On Wednesday evening, Kate arrived at Sam’s house. Chloe had given her a lift across town on her way to the gym. Sam let her in and knew immediately that there was good news to be had. Kate was shining as brightly as the sun. Sam talked as she poured Kate some mint tea and then settled her on the beanbag and took up position on the futon opposite her.
“Well?”
“Well what?” Kate asked, fooling no one as to her delight.
Sam gave her a look. “You’re busting to tell me something. Is it about Spike?”
“He rang!”
“When?”
“Today. I had to come round and tell you.”
“And?”
“He’s over the moon.”
Kate was so excited that Sam couldn’t help but be excited too. “Kate, that’s wonderful news. I’m so pleased for you.”
“I’m so happy. He’s going to be with me and we’re going to have this baby together, like a proper family.” Tears began to streak mascara down Kate’s face. Sam went over to Kate and hugged her. Then, when Kate was composed again, she fetched a tissue for her eyes and enquired about how she was actually feeling in herself. Kate complained about her aching bust, but apart from that she said she was fine. And then Kate asked about Sam and Andy.
Sam wasn’t ready to face that whole can of worms just yet. She wasn’t even sure in her own head what was going on with Andy and Dean. All she was knew was that the weight o
f the worries she was carrying was dragging her down to a place where she didn’t want to be. Andy’s letters had been less fluid since he had returned to Afghanistan, but was that part of being back out there, or something to do with her? Or was she just over-thinking the whole thing? So she just said, “Fine,” and left it at that.
A few days later, Kate rang Sam to tell her Dean had gone back out and that for once he’d seemed less cocky than normal, so things were looking up. Unfortunately for Sam, this message had the opposite effect to the one Kate had expected. Sam asked her if she knew if Dean had got a new girlfriend in tow for his second stint, fishing to see what she could find out. But Kate said apparently not and that he’d got quite shirty with her when she’d teased him. She did say, however, that she had seen on Facebook that he’d been spotted snogging some trollop in Club Seven the previous weekend, but again her reassurances were lost on Sam.
Sam asked who else might know about that and if the source was definitely to be trusted and Kate told her she couldn’t remember quite, but she was pretty sure it was some of the girls from The Patch. On the other end of the line Sam winced and died a little inside.
On Monday evening a letter came for Sam. She picked it up off the mat as she walked in the door and was saddened to realise that she was no longer ecstatic at the sight of it. What she felt now had been spoiled by a strong dose of suspicion and guilt. She took off her things, made herself a cup of tea and then wandered into the living room to sit down and open it.
Dear Sam,
How distant you seem to me out here. You could almost be on another world. I miss you. The work out here is hotter than ever, even getting up to fifty degrees today. Come midday it was only the mad dogs and us Englishmen left out in the sun.
I hope you and Humph are both well. You would have loved the kids we met yesterday. We had to visit a school that was rebuilt under our protection and only reopened a few months ago. The children were all so happy and glad to be there. They all wanted to shake our hands. I wish you could have seen them.
There’s a big operation in the offing. We’ll be moving out to join another platoon on a long op, but it’s not certain when as yet, so I’m not sure when I’ll get a chance to write to you again, but I will be thinking of you, always.
I long for shady lawns and ice-cold beers, and you.
Write soon,
Andy
PS Is my bed missing me yet?
He sounded so sad. When he had been with her, he had felt like the love of her life and she had been so happy every minute she had spent with him. But then he had gone, and there was Dean: the Adonis she had long held a torch for, who, by fair means or foul, had lost her, but who now made her question everything she believed to be true. She wondered again how she could actually get to the truth. If only she had a contact on The Patch, but Andy only gave her details to them, not the other way around, and now it was possible the same people who had met her with Andy had seen her kissing Dean! Sam gazed in desperation towards the heavens. Why her? Why did nothing ever go right for her? Maybe Chloe’s chap could shed some light, but then what on earth could she say? ‘Which of your mates is a bastard?’ No, this one she was going to have to work out for herself.
She looked back at the letter. Well, she thought, if he’s going to be too busy to write to me, then he’s going to be too busy to read, so it won’t make much difference if I wait a few days before writing back, just in case anything useful comes to light. There were only three more days before the summer holidays. Then she would be free to spend her time how she pleased. But two days after that, Kate rang with some awful news.
Chapter 9
Dean had been shot. Sam replaced the handset and slumped down onto the floor. He had been hit while out on patrol and had already been flown home to England. His parents had gone up to Birmingham to be with him, and suddenly Sam knew where she had to be. She dashed off a quick note to Andy.
Dear Andy,
Dean home injured. I have to go. I need to make sure he’s all right. I’ll write again when I can. I can’t believe it. Stay safe.
Love from Sam
She knew it was far less than he deserved, but right then she could manage no more. All she could think about at that moment was Dean.
The last day of term passed in a dreamlike state. Sam cruised through her usual routine on autopilot and at the end, when the bell rang and everybody started to leave, she realised that she could barely remember anything that had happened there that day.
Most members of staff were meeting at the local pub for a drink to celebrate the end of term, but Sam could no longer join in. Instead she cycled straight home and got herself ready for the following day.
On Friday morning, the first day of the summer holidays, she was on the train as soon as the rush hour had passed, arriving in Birmingham before lunch. Sam could not remember where Kate had said Dean had gone, so she just found the taxi rank and explained her situation to the chap in the front of the queue. The language barrier was a bit of a problem at first, but before long they seemed to understand each other and she was cruising through the streets of Birmingham on her way to find Dean.
She was deposited on the pavement in front of the most awe-inspiring building Sam had ever seen. It was huge. It looked almost space age, like something out of one of those American dramas she had occasionally caught on TV, not English at all. She thanked the taxi driver and hesitantly walked in.
After explaining her situation to several different people, Sam finally arrived outside the ward. She stopped. Her heart was thumping like a steam train at speed and her hands were sweating. She looked around and found an intercom. She pressed the button and a voice answered. Sam said who she was and who she had come to see. Silence. Up until this point it had never even occurred to Sam that she might not be allowed in. “Wait there, please,” the voice said.
A few moments later a woman came out and introduced herself. It was Dean’s mother. Mrs Fletcher asked if Sam was Dean’s girlfriend and Sam wasn’t sure how to answer. “I’m not entirely sure,” she said. “How is he?”
Mrs Fletcher looked at her for a long moment, as if weighing her up, and then she mellowed. “He’ll be okay. How did you hear, may I ask?”
“Kate told me. Your next door neighbour?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Will I be able to see him?”
Dean’s mum smiled sympathetically. “I’m afraid you can’t just yet. He had to have a second operation this morning on his leg, so he’s sleeping right now. Just his father and I are allowed at the present, but there is visiting this afternoon if he’s up to it. Are you on your own?”
Sam nodded.
“Then why don’t you go off and get something to eat, have a wander round and get back here for about two and we’ll see how he is then.”
Sam had to know how bad it was. “His leg? How bad is it?”
Mrs Fletcher was serious. “He’s still in one piece; that’s the main thing,” she said. “He took a blow to the head, but that seems to have settled down now. He was lucky, I suppose.”
Sam nodded. Mrs Fletcher gave Sam directions to the hospital canteen and went back inside.
Sam wasn’t hungry, so she walked back outside for some fresh air and to calm her nerves for a bit.
The weather was kind outside and she walked around the grounds of the hospital and arrived at a cool grassy bank at the side. She sat down and applied her mind to people watching for a short time. They came in all shapes and sizes. There were old couples with sticks walking up to the hospital with a resigned air; worried parents with young children huffing and puffing at the world in general and in amongst them all were men and women of the armed forces in all different uniforms walking purposefully through, immaculately turned out and polite.
When her stomach started to rumble, Sam wandered back inside and walked around the hospital shop, looking at the magazines and cards on the racks. She bought a quiz book and a tuna roll and attempted to focus her mind
on whiling away the time, but it was no good. Her nerves were twisting her insides and she could think about nothing else than seeing Dean. Finally she threw the remains of the roll in the bin and walked outside, back into the fresh air, and paced about the grounds, walking up and down the various pathways and checking her watch impatiently until it said it would soon be two.
Outside the ward, Sam hovered, her nerves threatening to choke her. At five past two, Mrs Fletcher came out. She smiled. “He’s awake,” she said, “and very eager to see you.” She held out her hand and Sam followed her through. Outside his room, they stopped. Mrs Fletcher turned to Sam. “Are you ready?” Sam nodded. Mrs Fletcher squeezed her hand for a moment. “I’ll take you in and then, if you like, his dad and I can pop out and get some fresh air and give you two a bit of time on your own.”
Sam shook her head. “No, please. I don’t want to turf you out-”
“Nonsense. Dean would never forgive us.” She smiled and pushed open the door. “We’re coming in. You’d better be decent.”
Apart from getting there, Sam had given little thought to actually speaking to Dean and she hadn’t expected him to look so good.
Dean was resting back, his bronzed lean body set a striking contrast against the crisp white sheets. His left leg was covered in bandages, with the sheet draped around him to the waist. All this exposed flesh and his sleep-ruffled hair made him more endearing than ever. He was a little thinner than she remembered, but considering everything he had been through he was looking inexcusably good. He smiled and Sam was lost for something to say.
“You remember Sam, Mum? She used to play round Katy’s house years ago. Remember? I got into trouble for squirting her with the hose over the fence that time.”
“Oh yes! Sorry Sam, I didn’t recognise you. It’s my age. You’ll have to excuse me.”
Sam was staring at Dean in wonder. He remembered. Until then she had had no sign from him that he had ever remembered her from back then and he seemed to know it.
The Songbird and the Soldier Page 12
