The Songbird and the Soldier

by Wendy Lou Jones

  Not long afterward, Sam wrote again.

  Dear Andy,

  I’m sorry you don’t feel able to write back to me, but I hope it is not because you are too unwell. Better that you are improving but cannot forgive me than you are physically unable.

  Life with me is pretty much back to the way it was when we first met. I still cycle to school every day and try and make a difference. Tabitha Parkin is not half as much trouble as little Jimmy Richards was, or maybe I am just a little bit wiser now? Humphrey is delighted to have me all to himself again and even barks at the postman in case he could be a threat, which he never did before.

  I miss you. I think about you every time I cycle through our park and even when I pass a fish and chip shop. You know I even think of you if I have to use the Sellotape, and I’m a schoolteacher! You were the best person in my life. With you I felt happy as me. Please write back, even if it’s just to tell me to go to Hell.

  Love always,

  Sam

  December came and with it a rapidly arranged wedding. Kate had suddenly decided that her baby had to be born within wedlock and in her highly emotional state, Spike agreed to bring things forward just to keep her happy.

  Sam was to be the only bridesmaid, having shunned the title of ‘maid of honour’ because it made her feel too old. She thought it might be a difficult day, with her link to the men more complicated than ever, but she hadn’t bargained on inadvertently upsetting the bride as well.

  Kate stood in her bedroom, trying her best to hide her expanding waistline under anoff-white, high-waisted, layered dress. She turned this way and that in front of the mirror, obviously dissatisfied with what she saw. Sam walked up behind her. “You look lovely,” she said.

  Kate took one look at Sam and burst into tears. The flowing, low-backed, burgundy dress emphasised Sam’s slimmer than usual figure. “It’s not fair. It’s my wedding day and you look so slim and elegant.” She sniffed in a big breath. “I’m the one who’s supposed to look elegant today, not you.”

  “But Kate, you look amazing.”

  “I do not; I’m fat.”

  “You are not fat. Come here.” She pulled her friend into her arms and hugged her. Sam looked around for a tissue and offered it to Kate, then guided her over to the bed and they sat down. Kate dabbed at her eyes. “You’re beautiful, Kate. There’s a life growing inside you. That’s amazing. You are protecting Spike’s baby with your body. You’re nurturing it and feeding it and keeping it safe until it’s ready to come out. There are lots of poor women out there who would give their right arm to be able to do that, so don’t let me hear any more of your ‘fat’ talk. You look amazing and Spike is going to be blown away when he sees you. The man’s besotted with you - Lord knows why! - so pull yourself together and get down there and snaffle him up.”

  Sam fetched the flowers and set the small tiara on top of Kate’s head, and Kate started to feel like the princess she had wanted to be. With a quick check on her make-up, she turned to Sam and beamed. “Ready.”

  At the reception after the service, Sam was approached by several of the lads from Dean and Andy’s regiment and although she appreciated all the charm and flattery she received that day, she was not inclined to take any of it seriously. It was nothing more than talk and she really wasn’t interested.

  Dean approached her at one point in the evening and commented on how well she was looking. Sam was pleased to realise that the man who had held such power over her for so many years no longer sent shivers through her, and actually looked far more bland than she remembered. She looked at him objectively, as if she were seeing him for the very first time, and all she saw was a man, quite nice looking, but nothing special compared to the company they were in. He remarked that she seemed to have changed and Sam was left in no doubt that he saw this as a good thing. She thought at one point that he had actually started flirting with her! She had changed, she knew it and it was definitely for the better, just sadly a little too late.

  Tina found her. “Well, if it isn’t the avenging angel.”

  Sam gave her a stern look. “How are you doing?”

  “Good, thanks. You and Dean have had a major shake-up, haven’t you? I’ve not seen him trying this hard since… God, I don’t know if I ever have.”

  “What are you banging on about? We’re over; you know that.”

  “I know, I know, but now it’s all topsy-turvy. You’re so ‘hey boy, kiss my feet’, and he is so drooling over you. It’s quite a change of face, you’ve got to admit?”

  “Don’t remind me.”

  “He didn’t give you the time of day when he was your fiancé and now you’ve ditched him and reported him, he suddenly can’t get enough of you.”

  Sam looked around to find Dean and true enough there he was, still looking at her. She turned back to Tina. “Men; I’ll never understand them.”

  “Speaking of which… any news?” Tina’s tone was more subdued now.

  “From Andy? No.”

  “You know he’s off to Headley Court this week?”

  “Yes, Helen told me. I’m glad he’s on the mend at last.”

  “Well, he’s a stubborn bugger; it should stand him in good stead for his recovery.”

  Sam smiled sadly.

  “Come on, come and meet Michelle. She’s a great laugh. You’ll love her.”

  That night Sam wrote again.

  Dear Andy,

  Kate and Spike got married today. You would have loved it. Kate looked amazing in her long floaty dress and Spike looked every bit the dashing soldier.

  In the reception after, Lofty and Dave started stripping off to that song from The Full Monty – hysterical! – don’t worry, Tina broke it up before they got indecent, so no elderly aunts were offended. They all miss you, although they don’t say as much, well not to me anyway, but I hear them talking.

  I thought of you today. Can I say that? Wondering if we would have made it. I like to think we would. But it’s hard to see such happiness in others when you’ve gone so wrong yourself. If you only listen to one word of this letter then let it be this: I’m sorry.

  It’s getting cold now. It must be late. They tell me you’re off to Headley Court soon, so I will send the next letter there.

  Keep fighting, my love.

  Never give up.

  Affectionately,

  Sam

  A week later she wrote again.

  Dear Andy,

  Well I have a settee now. You should see it; it’s dark green and so comfortable and soft. I haven’t been able to part with my old futon, though. Too many good memories.

  School is manic. Twenty-eight over-excited children on the run up to Christmas, don’t you just love ‘em? It’s definitely time to break out that rifle!

  Today Katy Pearson spilled red paint all over the new carpet in the reading corner and then managed to walk it half way round the classroom before I virtually had to rugby-tackle her to the floor to get her to stop. Fortunately no angel wings were splattered in the fiasco, or the Nativity may have had a far more Quentin Tarantino look to it.

  I miss you. Happy Christmas, my love. I wish I could be there with you and take away some of your pain. I wish the thought of me was more comforting to you. You know I hold you so close to my heart that sometimes I think I can hear yours beating.

  I’m glad you are starting to mend. I only wish I could mend the pain I caused you too. But maybe that is hoping for too much. Wouldn’t it be wonderful though if we could meet again one day and smile?

  Please write to me. If you can. But if not, just be happy.

  Yours always,

  Sam

  But still she heard nothing.

  Andy received her letters without emotion. They were met with an indifference that might befit a bill or insurance quote. He filed them away beside his bed and carried on reading his book. Andy was sore from the exercise he was doing there. He had suffered a considerable amount of muscle wastage from his injuries and the resulting
weeks in and out of consciousness. His joints were stiff from lack of use and his bones stuck out in places where once they had been covered with toned flesh. It was a long road ahead; he understood that, although every day he battled against the frustration. He was going to have to work hard to regain the physique he had had before the blast.

  Andy’s stump ached. He thought about his leg and looked at it dispassionately. It had been five months since the blast. His external scars had all healed now, but there was still such a long way to go.

  His gaze flickered toward the drawer where Sam’s letters lay and he drew in a calming breath. Sam was no longer important in his life. She was a part of the past. She had disappointed him, like all the others. His life had changed now. Living so closely with men who had lost much more than he, Andy was brutally aware that it could have been worse, but even so, his life would never be the same again. He was not the man he once was, in so many ways. Who in their right mind would want him now?

  Andy closed his book in irritation. Concentrating had been hard for him of late. He hauled himself off his bed and into his wheelchair, but a crashing sound nearby alarmed him and suddenly he was back in the heat and dirt, under fire and afraid. The world rushed in to choke him and blood was running down his face. What was happening? Where was Miller? The pain, the pain was overwhelming, pain like he’d never experienced before. He cried out and started to shake uncontrollably. His hands went to his face and he felt the dent in the right side of his cheek. He screamed out again and a nurse was by his side. Gently calling his name, she calmed him with a cool gentle hand, easing his fears with her softly spoken words. His eyes focused in on her and he was back in Headley.

  The nurse offered him a drink of water and passed him a towel to dry his face. The nurse sat and talked to him for a while until he was calm and then she left him alone. He was on his own now. That was just the way it had to be. He dragged his hands across his face and sucked in a deep breath. Get on with it. There was no room in this world for self-pity.

  Later that evening, Andy wheeled himself round to spend some time with the guys. They were good for each other’s morale, he knew that. Unless you were completely determined to be miserable while you were surrounded by a load of other lads going through a similar ordeal, you were almost guaranteed to find someone who would make you grateful for the life you still had. For Andy, he always carried his motivation with him. Miller would never get his chance to rebuild his life and his wife and children had to live with that for the rest of their lives. Andy owed it to all of them to fight for every day that he had.

  Christmas arrived, and apart from the activities being replaced by physically challenging games, and party hats being worn at the Christmas table, life in the military establishment continued to resemble the routine that its residents had grown accustomed to and relied upon to get through each day.

  Letters arrived from family and friends bringing smiles to the faces of those they loved, but in Andy’s bed there were few smiles to be had. She had gone off with another man, like Claire had before her. He had thought Sam was so perfect. He’d thought she was his soul mate. He had longed to find her again all those years, all the time thinking of how his life would have been different if he had been with her, only to have his illusions shattered. Why? What purpose had it served? No, he must not think of her, not as anything more than an old injury. That’s all she was now, another injury he had to overcome, and overcome it he would, given time. Why she still felt the need to write to him, Andy had no idea. He wished she wouldn’t. But of course she knew nothing of his life. She was not a part of his life anymore. There was no one left to disappoint him, or let him down now. He was better on his own.

  Mr and Mrs Litton’s Christmas passed more soberly than usual. Sam was a quieter, more thoughtful version of the daughter they had known before and as the New Year rolled past, Sam’s parents wished for her the happiness she seemed to have held so briefly the previous year.

  The spring term was the easiest part of the year for Sam. Gone was all the fuss of Nativity and harvest festival, and reports and sports day were not yet upon her. She had time to catch up with her paperwork and get down to some really productive time spent with her class.

  Kate had moved into a little house on The Patch and was busy nesting, preparing for the arrival of her baby, leaving Sam pondering on the bizarre twists in life. Less than a year since she had had the discussion about what each of them had wanted out of life, so much had changed and now they both had the opposite of what they had wanted. The only consolation to her was that at least Kate was happy with the way things had turned out.

  As the spring approached, Andy learned to walk on his new foot. He built up most of the muscle that he had lost and worked hard to pull himself out of the quagmire of darkness that had threatened to engulf him. Now he was focused, a picture of capability and routine. He fixed himself targets and drove himself hard until he achieved them. His health continued to improve, as did his fitness. He was back at the barracks and making the most of the facilities available to him. His life was in order, his kit was crisp and his mind was focused on his recovery and to the outside world, all seemed well.

  Sam heard that Andy had returned to barracks. He was not yet back to full capability and no one really knew if he ever would be. She was anxious not to bump into him when she went out there to visit Kate, but returned each time almost disappointed that she never actually did. Her letters continued, writing faithfully every week, bringing him her news and her thoughts, but she never had a reply.

  Kate’s baby arrived, weighing in at 7lb 5oz and with a fine pair of lungs. Sam went to visit Kate in the hospital the day after she gave birth. She peeped round the corner and was beckoned in by Kate. Spike stood up and kissed his wife. “I’ll leave you two to it for a bit,” he said. “I’ll get a coffee and make a few more phone calls. Okay?” Kate smiled and nodded and he walked around her bed, gently touched the cheek of his sleeping baby and looked back at Kate fondly before walking out.

  As the door closed Sam turned to Kate. “How are you? How was it?” Kate pulled a face.

  “Well it ain’t no picnic,” she said and then smiled across at her newborn babe. “But she’s definitely worth it.”

  Sam looked at the sleeping baby and then turned to Kate. “You’ve had a baby. You. You’ve got a little girl.” She shook her head in amazement.

  Kate grinned. “I know. How mad is that? I always thought you would be the first for all this lot.” She heaved a big contented sigh. “Still, I’m sure I can get you fixed up with one of the lads. They’re a good lot, you know.”

  Sam looked at her in horror. “No, thank you. What are you going to call her?” She nodded at the baby.

  “Ellen. Ellen Sophia Drury.”

  Sam repeated the name. “Yes, that’s a good name. Can I hold her?”

  “Absolutely not. This is the longest she’s slept since she was born. I’m making the most of it.” Sam’s face fell. “You can have first squeeze when she wakes up, I promise.” Kate winked. “Go on; let me get you a guy so you can have one yourself? You’re not getting any younger, you know.”

  “Thanks a lot. I’m not that old. I’m only two months older than you, remember.”

  “There is one really hot guy Spike says is a decent bloke. He only arrived a couple of weeks ago. He’s single.”

  “Not interested.”

  “Why not? You’re not still flogging that dead horse, are you? Forget about him, Sam.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Has he ever written back to you?”

  “No.”

  “Well then?”

  Sam shook her head.

  “It’s just such a waste, Sam. I want to see you as happy as I am, that’s all. You’re a lovely girl, although it pains me to say it.” She grinned. “There must be loads of guys out there who would kill to go out with you, I’m certain.”

  Sam shook her head again.

  A door slammed further up the w
ard and Ellen stirred. Slowly her little dark eyes opened and Sam’s face lit up. “Go on then. You can pick her up.”

  Carefully Sam scooped up the wobbly bundle into her arms and held the baby close to her. She leaned her cheek gently against baby Ellen’s soft head and melted. “Oh, she’s just beautiful, Kate. She’s perfect.” She held her back to gaze at her face and spoke in doting words to her, filled with love for the tiny child.

  Spike walked back in, carrying a banana milkshake and slice of cake for his wife.

  Kate gasped. “My hero,” she said. She asked Spike to find her phone from her locker and set it up to take a picture. “Get a picture of Ellen and Sam, before she starts to cry, will you, hon’?” Spike took a couple of photos and handed the phone back. “You’re a natural, Sam,” she said and Sam blushed. “Forget about him, Sam. Move on. Get yourself a good man and have some babies.” She squeezed Spike’s hand.

  Ellen began to fret and Sam handed her over to her mother, who was eager to hold her again, and sat down. She could never make Kate understand how she felt about Andy. There were no words to describe it. All she knew was that she would not give up on him. She couldn’t. Not unless he told her to, and as yet she had heard nothing. But sitting there, watching Kate with her new little family, she was suddenly faced with the harsh contrast between their two worlds. Inside, she could only cry a little as the reality of her having a loving husband and child of her own seemed ever bleaker.

  Andy sat in his house on The Patch, dishing up his evening meal. He ladled out some stew into a large bowl and dolloped a pile of mashed potato close by. The cutlery clanked against the bowl as he carried it over to the coffee table in front of the TV. He sat down, picked up the remote control, flicked through the channels and settled back into the armchair. He lifted up his dinner to begin to eat and the doorbell went. Irritated, he paused the TV and put down his bowl.

  Tina stood before him in a brightly coloured vest top and jeans, her circlet of tattoos on display. She stubbed out her cigarette and walked in. Andy was taken aback. He turned and looked at her standing in his living room waiting for him, and closed the door. “Come on in,” he mumbled. “I was just sitting down to eat.”