by Vance Huxley
Harry sighed as well. He’d been totally stuffed. “How many are actually kitchen staff?” There was a lot of hesitation and then people started shuffling about. Six kitchen staff and four not, plus the missing four. The orders were to send them home, but Harry just couldn’t do it. Not after what the lass, Janina, had said. “Can you manage to feed us with six if the place fills up?”
“Not really. I’m a trainee cook, though we’re called assistants. None of the real experts are left. We can cook basic food but with six?” Cullen shrugged.
Harry looked at the worried faces and sighed again. He would get so much crap if anyone found out. “Can you manage with fourteen, if they peel spuds or whatever?” Tentative smiles appeared on four faces, two of each sex. “Go and bring the other four in for God’s sake. They’ll be worrying.”
“They can hear, sir.”
“Stop the sir. Anyone with stripes is in charge of those with nothing, but isn’t a sir. The ones with fancy badges are in charge of us and are all sirs.” There was a scuffling and a big cupboard opened to show four apprehensive faces. “Come out here. Can you help this lot to cook?”
“Yes sir.” That smile was three parts relief and two parts cheeky, and all five parts were very pretty. “I’m Cynthia, sometimes known as Cyn, and I can make cheese on toast.”
Harry laughed, he had to. “Good. If you can cook porridge as well it sounds as if you’re on breakfast duty.” Harry looked round them. “The Army will want three meals a day, and possibly something for those on duty at night, so organise yourselves. If you are all sorted by the time anyone else asks, they won’t bother to mess you about. You’d better show me which are the staff rooms so I can make them off limits.” Harry looked round. “Do you all live in?”
There was a lot of feet shuffling and glances one to another. “There aren’t any staff quarters. Some of us have been staying but we’re supposed to go home after shifts.” Cullen looked defensive. “If we go home we might not get back.”
“Only the manager lives in. Lived in because he left. He’s got a flat and there’s two bedrooms in there.” Cynthia smiled. “We know because we have to clean them as well.”
Harry made a quick decision. The officers wanted staff, and this way there would be cooks here twenty-four seven. “Are there settees in there, or maybe room for a mattress on the floor? If not you need to take over the nearest room and make it look like a staff bedroom.” Harry smiled. “Throw out the flower vases and posh soap and hang up some undies in the bathroom.”
There was a mixed response to that. “What’s wrong?”
“Most of us haven’t got any more clothes so we sleep in separate rooms. We’ve been washing clothes out at night, but if we’re all living together?” Cullen looked around. “Your soldiers might like the idea of seeing them running around while their undies are hung up to dry, but I doubt they’ll return the interest.” He patted his large, round stomach. “I doubt they’ll appreciate this either. Not exactly the body beautiful.” Cullen was trying to make light of it and some were smiling but some were still very worried.
“The manager’s family must have left clothes, and what about the last guests? Those we told to leave didn’t all take suitcases.” Most of the faces looked happier but one went scarlet.
Cullen glanced at her but spoke to Harry. “Some of our customers don’t have suitcases. They only rent for a few hours and don’t leave together.”
Harry looked at the red-faced one. “On the game?”
“Yes.” It was a whisper. “Do I have to leave? I’m in here because none of us are walking the streets now. Those bastards don’t care why you’re out there, and they don’t pay either.”
“Don’t look for business in here. This lot are fresh back from Kuwait and you’ll start a bloody riot. Then some officer will throw you out. Now all get into the proper uniforms and raid the rooms for whatever you need.” There was still some hesitation. “What now?”
“Martial Law. We can be shot for looting.”
“Requisitioned for Army use, just don’t list exactly what clothing you take.” Harry caught the sparkle in Cynthia’s eyes. “Especially you, I reckon.” He hesitated. “Sort out the uniforms, tunics, whatever, and I’ll get a couple of sensible blokes to stop anyone else asking difficult questions.”
* * *
“Christ Harry, I’m knackered.” Maynard was Harry’s usual darts partner.
“You’ll get to see a bunch of girls raiding the panty store?”
“Will they be trying them on?” Maynard paused a moment. “Hey, these are English girls, right?”
“Keep quiet you idiot. But yes. Well, some Irish and maybe Polish as well.”
“Yeah, but with real legs like the ones who served the grub? Not all covered up and likely to stick a knife in me?”
“Well they might if you misbehave but yes, they wear skirts. But they are also respectable so keep your bloody hands off.” Harry put on a scowl.
“I know. Christ, you know me Harry, all mouth.”
Harry did know Davie Maynard which was why he had picked the man. Maynard might look with longing but the soldier was shy when he actually met a decent looking woman. “Yes, I do. I also know where your mother lives so you keep your trap shut to the rest.”
“Ooh, low blow. Come on then, before they’ve finished trying them on?” But Maynard was grinning as he said it. He’d got the message. Harry explained to Menzies as well and between the three of them they escorted the staff around the rooms. The tired soldiers who were already in some rooms weren’t best pleased to be disturbed, but much too pleased when the young women came in.
“Shut it, you lot. This lot will be cooking your breakfast so behave.”
“Please miss, can I have breakfast in bed?” That brought a round of laughter but the two staff with Harry got out of the room before it got much worse. The other staff with the other two soldiers were coming out of rooms being pursued by laughter, and some fairly crude comments.
Maynard gestured at the embarrassed women. “This won’t work, Harry.”
Harry looked at the faces of the women, and even the oldest was definitely blushing. “You’re right Maynard, but us sorting through women’s underwear won’t go down too well either.”
“We could take the lot.” Menzies shrugged. “If we take the male staff to help collect it up the women can sort through it later.”
“Good idea. You ladies had better scarper and sort out those staff rooms, and ask the rest of the men to come up with any bags they’ve got.” The women scarpered, smartish.
Harry and the other two soldiers told the rest of the soldiers that all the civvie clothes had to be taken away and saved for the owners. Two hours later the three of them were slumped in the room they’d picked, the nearest to the staff rooms and the manager’s flat. They’d told the staff to call out if there were any randy sleep walkers. The door handle rattled and opened.
“This is where you’re hiding. Why aren’t you idiots asleep?”
“Come on Sarge. We’ve been getting the staff organised and making sure you and the officers have pretty bedspreads and smelly soap.” Menzies grinned.
“Well hard luck though I’ll check my bed carefully after that comment. Now you get to come and tell the officers what a wonderful job you’ve done. Not only that,” Sarge produced a wicked smile, “but there are a couple of top coppers down there to discuss tactics. Guess who the brass want to show off” Harry groaned. “Don’t bring that poncy stick though, just make sure you’ve got your ribbon nice and clean.” Sarge turned to go. “Dining room in fifteen.”
Harry turned to Menzies. “Sorry. Look, they only want me so you and Maynard get some sleep.”
“Not a chance. Sarge didn’t give me a pass and he’s got a bloody good memory. Though when we’ve had a kip I want to know the real story.”
“About the medal? I lost my temper.”
“Yeah right.”
“It’s true. Harry is known as soft la
d by anyone who really knows him.” Maynard shook his head. “Now we’re all frightened of upsetting him again.” Menzies looked from one to the other.
Then he shrugged. “Later. First I need a swift shower so I don’t keel over and fall asleep.”
* * *
The brass showed off their clerk, and assessed their rooms, and set a guard rota as the rest of the men stumbled in and were shown their rooms. About half of the soldiers decided that sleep came before food and the rest were organised into shifts for the dining room.
“Well you managed that all right. Must be the office training.” The lieutenant sneered. “Must have been a shock for you, getting in among the muck and bullets where the real soldiers live.” Harry let it wash over him, because the Army seemed to be split in two camps. Many were dead impressed by the medal, and often wanted the story. The rest assumed it was all bullshit to cover up for Special Ops or something similar because after all, Corporal Miller was a pay clerk. A desk weenie. Though all the clerical brass liked to show Harry off to visitors.
“Now you can report to Sergeant Wilson, and he’ll keep you out of mischief. Though you’ll turn out with the rest if there are any more riots. Understand, Miller?”
“Sir.”
Sergeant Wilson was lurking nearby, waiting. “Lieutenant Symonns told me to deal with you, Miller, since he’s got real work. You’re already awake and know how this place works, so you get the job of organising the food.” Sarge had a smirk when he said that, the bastard. Menzies apologised to Harry and headed for bed, promising to be back in four hours.
The waitresses all had black skirts and white blouses now, and there were four of them juggling plates and cups. The first shift was going well enough when the first man tried for a handful of waitress. The woman yelped, twisted away and two plates of egg and chips hit the floor.
“Stop that shit, right now.”
The man, a corporal, looked round and noted the two stripes Harry wore, identical to his own. “Else what? I was only being friendly-like. After all we’ve not seen a friendly face in a tight skirt for three years.” There were several voices pointing out it wasn’t the friendly face they were pleased to see.
One of the other men at the table grinned. “I didn’t get a Christmas present or a New Year kiss out in Kuwait. Maybe we can get both. I don’t mind them being late.”
Emboldened, the corporal carried on. “Since you’ve only got two stripes, same as me, who put you in charge?” Harry cursed the decision that, because there were very few officers, the sergeants could share the grill room. That had been declared the officer’s mess.
Harry opened his mouth to reason with the man, though he thought it wouldn’t work. The scrambled retreat, then the riot, had shattered morale and, apparently, discipline. Then a voice spoke up from a nearby table. “You might not want to get Harry annoyed, Suggs. You won’t like him when he gets angry.” There was a ripple of laughter and the corporal looked around, scowling.
“He don’t look that hard to me. Does he turn green and split his pants or what?”
Harry knew what was coming. Several of this lot knew him, even as just a nodding acquaintance. Sure enough. “Look at the ribbon, Suggs. How many pay clerks do you know with a CGC?” There was more laughter. “Though look on the bright side, he hasn’t got a sword or a rifle.”
The corporal, Suggs, narrowed his eyes and looked closer. Then his eyes rose to meet Harry’s. “Shit. That really is the CGC. You really are him?”
Harry shrugged. “Says so on the pay records.”
“Harry would know.” There was some more laughter and Suggs subsided. He turned back to his meal, though an intense discussion started at the table and Suggs occasionally glanced at Harry. The waitress cleared up the mess and went back to serving, though she also gave Harry a nod of thanks. Eventually this shift finished and left the dining room.
Suggs paused on the way past. “I’m not frightened of you.”
“Didn’t expect you to be.”
“Lost it a bit back there. Bad night. No hard feelings?”
“None. We’ve all had a rough night.”
Suggs nodded and carried on but Harry wasn’t so sure it was over. In Suggs’s eyes the corporal had backed down in front of all these men, and he looked the type to want to even up somehow. The next shift were better behaved, or at least there was no trouble. When one or two did start to take it beyond light flirting with the waitresses, it quickly died out. Nearby soldiers made a point of leaning over and speaking to the offender, and they subsided.
News of Suggs would have spread by that subtle magic infecting all gossip, ensuring that it moved faster than light. By morning all the men in the hotel would know that the pay clerk, the corporal, was that one. They would get a gory version of the medal winning which to be honest Harry didn’t remember very well. Then they’d all want a blow by blow and treat him like a live hand grenade until they knew him better. The sooner all the units were sorted out and the brass found Harry a nice cosy pay office the better.
Four hours later, as promised, Menzies turned up. He looked a lot better and had managed a shave. “You get six hours according to the rota Sarge gave me. It’s in our room. I’ve let the kitchen know the meal shifts and our shifts so they know who to annoy. Apparently we, you and me and Maynard, are the catering corps for now.”
“Why?”
“No good deed goes unpunished. We sorted it once, so it’s our job.” Menzies shrugged. “Look on the bright side, we get to go to the kitchen for a cup of coffee whenever we can find an excuse.”
“So what else are we supposed to do, if there’s no riot? Because that lieutenant seemed to have it in for me so he won’t want me bloody well skiving.”
“Find food, bread and milk or whatever, organise dustbin emptying and laundry, all the fun stuff. It’s on the list. Sarge seems to think it’s funny.” Menzies curled a lip. “He’s got an odd sense of humour.”
“Sorry, some people don’t like this.” Harry tapped the ribbon. “Why has Sarge got it in for me? I never served under him at any time.” Because Harry didn’t know the sergeant at all and sergeants were usually fairer about the decoration.
“Because a bloke with a medal should be a proper soldier, not a pay clerk. You offend his sense of how things should be.” Harry stared but Menzies wasn’t joking. “I still want the down and dirty some time,” the corporal continued.
“Maynard can tell you.” Harry headed off for a shower and a long peaceful sleep.
* * *
“Good morning sir. This is your early morning call.”
“Wha? Mmm, coffee.” Harry got an eye open and confirmed coffee and that the voice really was female. “Cynthia?” He quickly checked that the blanket was over him. “What are you doing in here?”
“We have a list of your shift times. The other corporal, Menzies, left it in the kitchen. See, I’ve remembered the ranks. We’ve been learning them.” Cynthia giggled. “Maybe not morning, it’s nine o’clock at night.”
“Twenty one hundred.”
“It said two thousand one hundred or twenty one point double zero. I didn’t fancy trying to say that but it’s nine o’clock on the kitchen clock.”
Harry’s head slowly caught up, not helped by the bright chattering voice. “You should knock first. Just in case, er, we’re washing our boxers or whatever.”
“It can’t be worse than the last three days where we all managed with one of everything.” Her eyes widened. “Unless you lot are commandos? I’ve heard all about them.”
Harry laughed. “No, I’m a pay clerk.”
“Well, the pen is mightier than the sword.” That twinkle was in her eye again.
“Only if there’s a line of blokes with swords or rifles to back up the man with a pen.” Harry glanced down the room and the other beds were empty. Bugger, he’d better get her out of here sharpish. If Sarge caught him with a woman in here? “You’d better get out of here before you get me into trouble.”
Harry wasn’t falling for that lead-in. Though it was tempting with those eyes because it had been a long time since he’d been close to a pretty lass. Well, one he’d dare be alone with and didn’t have a horde of fanatical relatives. “Scat. I’ll be down in half an hour.”
“Yes, Corporal Menzies said it would take you half an hour to get yourself fit to be seen.” She sniggered. “That must be why you’ve got those covers pulled up so high.” Then Cynthia twirled and left, but not before Harry saw the smile on her face.
Harry sat up and picked up the coffee. Mmm, lovely. Though Cynthia had better be careful about wandering into this room since either of the others could have been showering or getting changed. Harry mused briefly on that smile. Then regretfully decided that since she was living in a room with three or four others, and so was he, he’d never find out just how interested Cynthia was. Though his early morning call had definitely put Harry in a good mood.
Right up until just after midnight. “Move it, move it!” Soldiers stumbled out of rooms as the fire bell went off. They assumed this was a call-out and not a fire since an officer had decided to use it as an emergency alarm. Though Cullen turned up to check, just in case there was a fire.
“The walking wounded are staying to mind the store so you’ve got to be a real soldier for a change. See if you remember how.” Harry ignored the lieutenant and found Menzies and the others who were now in their squads, then got into ranks. Harry had kept his shield but now it was strapped to his chest instead of to his pack.
Menzies was scowling. “We’ve got a few more shields now, but no bloody batons or rubber bullets.”
“Is it another riot? Against bayonets? Are they bloody stupid?” Harry couldn’t believe it but sure enough they were soon marching to where two single decker buses were waiting. It was cramped inside but not for long since they hadn’t far to go. Then once again it was bayonets against civilians.
