by Vance Huxley
Harold shrugged. “I don’t need one since I can more or less guess. But if you prefer to say it I’m listening.”
“I should have known.” Liz gave a little, sad smile. “Macho bastards understand us little mice.”
“No you idiot. It’s us macho bastards that aren’t normal, that should explain ourselves to normal people. It isn’t normal to hit people with sharp or blunt implements, not in our society.” Harold sipped at the beer and put the bottle down. “I can do it, but couldn’t until about two years ago. Then I lost my temper and learned the knack.”
Liz stared. “Seriously? You seem like some bloody death machine when you start.”
“Angry, I’m angry. I’m a pussycat otherwise. It took a sodding great bomb and a horde of maniacs to finally annoy me.” Harold actually managed a little smile, putting it like that.
“Then I suppose you upped and slaughtered them.” Liz had a tiny smile now.
“Sort of. The bloke with me got a few but he was entitled. Stones really was, and hopefully still is, SAS.” Harold smiled at those memories, of drinking rather than shooting.
“Cripes. We could do with him here.”
“Stones would be out there with a knife in his teeth, looking for the rest of that lot.” Harold laughed. “Actually he’d have a machine gun, shotgun, two pistols and a grenade. They’re a real good bunch most of the time, but very, very bad if necessary. Most of them like a quiet drink and suchlike same as anyone else. You’d be disappointed.”
“Relieved.” Liz sighed. “I’m a mouse, remember.”
“Not really Liz, you’re normal. The world needs the normal people, more now than ever before, I think. Some of you need to survive or life becomes some computer game apocalypse with everyone running around killing everyone.” Harold tipped the top of his beer bottle a bit towards her. “There’s another reason you in particular must survive. You’re our armourer. Who else would put sharp things on sticks for us?”
“Not very well. They pulled out the bolts and arrows. I need to put barbs on them.” Liz sounded disgusted.
“See?” Harold smiled and raised his beer in salute. “You make them, then I’ll stick them in someone.”
“Don’t miss, I’ll charge you for wasted ones.” Liz chinked her bottle against Harold’s. “Truly? You don’t mind? It’s just than I pound metal and I’m probably the strongest woman here, physically. I shouldn’t be relying on a slip of a lass like Holly to defend me.”
“Ask Holly if she wants another head pounder, or someone passing her a fresh, sharp spear when hers breaks.” Harold sipped again. “Holly might be a bit less manic now anyway. I think she got something out of her system.”
“Good.” Liz drained her bottle. “Right, I’m ready for my breakdown now. It’s another reason I wanted you here. Your shoulder is just the right height.” Liz’s voice had a real catch in it so Harold stood and offered his arms with a smile. Liz pulled down his jacket zip and hers “because I’m not hugging a fleece” and her arms went round Harold under his jacket. He returned the hug, then Liz’s head went onto the front of Harold’s shoulder and the first sob arrived.
“Christ, Harold. This bloke was coming at me and he was going to kill me.” Liz sobbed and shuddered. “I couldn’t move. Then I just waved the bloody machete and looked away.” Tears were flowing properly now and the words were being gasped out. “So I didn’t see it coming, death.” There was a prolonged period of sobbing. “When I looked you’d seen it, and Casper was just pulling that damn great chopper of his out of the bastard so he knew.”
Liz produced another flood of tears. “Then you were both gone, hacking and stabbing like maniacs.” Her sobs carried on for a while, gradually becoming less intense. Harold kept hugging, and stroking her back as Liz’s breathing finally steadied. “You really are reassuring you know.”
“Unfortunately I’m also a puny weakling.”
“It’s a problem. If I need a real man to hug me it’s a puny one, or I can have a big one who’s also a big girl. Story of my life.” Liz was relaxing now, reviving a little of their usual banter even if she still sniffed a bit. “Though you are a warm puny weakling.”
“Well it’s not my fault you chose to meet in a fridge.”
“I thought nobody would bother me here. Now it’s a good reason to keep hugging. You give good hugs.” Liz hugged a little tighter for a moment.
“One of my minor talents.”
“Emmy said so.”
“Emmy?”
“Yes. She said for a big rough acting bloke you hug real nice and you’re absorbent. Soak up the sobbing.” Liz giggled. “Sort of comforting and safe.”
“Great, just what a bloke wants as his reputation. Safe.”
“Oh, there’s a few want to tempt you into danger.” Before Harold could answer Liz swayed a little bit. “If we’re going to hug, since we have music I want to dance. I haven’t been to a dance for ages.” The little MP3 player had been playing quietly in the background, sad songs and lonely ones. Liz raised her head and gave a bleary smile, then used a sleeve to scrub her face. “Sorry, they’re a bit slow and weepy. They’re my mood music.”
Harold kept his arms round her and Liz sighed and put her head back on his shoulder and the arm back round him. They stood and sort of swayed a little bit while Harold stroked her back and Liz returned the patting and stroking a bit. She was singing along quietly to the music and the ‘dancing’ was really restful. The third record came on and Liz sang the opening very quietly. “I need a man with slow hands.” Then she giggled. “I’m a slut you know.”
“You must have an odd definition because as far as I know you’ve been celibate since I’ve known you.” Harold was mystified.
“Ah, but that’s because I can’t commit and I’m particular. I’m a sooty iron-beating butterfly, flitting from one-nighter to one-nighter. I learned to weld and beat metal so I could go to trade fairs. To meet all those real, honest to God beeeg, muscly smiths.” Liz laughed and hugged a little bit tighter for a moment. “I would drag one off to see my artwork, or nip over to inspect his anvil. Then kiss him goodbye in the morning and leave him smiling, and be all sorted until the next fair.”
“Shouldn’t this be a girly confession? To Casper for instance?” Harold liked Liz and didn’t want her all awkward with him next time they met.
“Casper knows. We traded vice confessions.” Liz snuggled in a bit. That was getting to be a bit of a problem for Harold since he hadn’t been sorted out for a while either. He really did like Liz but if he started thinking of her that way, and caught her at a weak moment, then the friendship would be gone. Harold didn’t have many friends outside the Army, and not that many in. Not enough to waste one on a night of sex.
“My problem is, I like you.” Damn. He’d thought sex and Liz and now she was telling him she liked him. “As a friend. A lot.” Liz sighed and wriggled in a bit, which wasn’t helping friend thoughts. “So here I am, all down and feeling useless and you do that stroking thing.” Harold stopped. “Don’t you dare stop now, or I’ll make an ornament for your bed.” Harold carried on stroking and so did Liz. Though as always, the stroking was strictly north of the belt line. Crap, why had he thought that?
“After all the blood and such I need to feel really safe tonight, and right here I am. I’ve got the big bad soldier boy all wrapped round me. It’s very reassuring.” Harold was just going with the flow now, until Liz worked out whatever she was working on. “But now I’m considering finding out the answer to a question. You see, the girls have been wondering about that hugging and those gentle hands. They are wondering how that feels if the girl isn’t crying.”
Liz gave another little wriggle. “I can tell them because I stopped crying a bit back. It’s really nice. Now I’m wondering what it would feel like if a hand strayed a bit.” Her hand patted Harold’s bottom gently as a hint.
“Liz?”
“Don’t worry, I don’t kiss and tell and I never hate them in the morning.
” Liz sniggered. “I told you, no commitment. Though should this turn into something tonight, promise you’ll stay my friend? No awkward looks and silences.”
“I was a bit worried about the same thing.”
Liz lifted her head and there was a gleam of mischief in her eyes. “So you were considering being a bad boy?”
“Thinking of consequences if I did.” Harold gave her a little smile. “I don’t exactly get a lot of action either.”
“But yours is choice because there are definitely volunteers waiting for a hint.” Liz kissed him quickly and gently on the lips and put her head back on Harold’s shoulder. “I was handling all this very well until this damn song came on.” She sang it again, slowly. “I want a man with slow hands.” Then sighed. “Tell you what, why don’t you stay here and hold me tight tonight? I really don’t want to be alone, Harold.”
“It’s a bit chilly.” Which was a long way from no, Harold thought. His hand had also strayed just a little bit south. Liz’s little wriggle was encouraging, not objection.
This time Liz’s giggle was pure delight. “I was planning on staying tonight, so I made preparations. Which also works out well for a basic lesson in slut 1-0-1.”
“How?” Harold was really getting interested now, but wary of more than gently stroking what he had confirmed was a firm, rounded ass.
“Get the bloke into a cold room. Point out that the bed is warm. Very warm since the electric blanket has been on full for a couple of hours.” Liz somehow cuddled a bit closer. “So will you hold me close tonight, soldier boy? Keep me safe?” Her head came up and there was a definite twinkle in her eye. “I promise not to throw you out into the cold if those gentle hands stray a little bit in the night.” This time her kiss was a bit firmer and Harold kissed back, just a bit.
Liz put her head back down and Harold chuckled. “Straying might be difficult to control. It all depends on your nightie.”
This time when Liz lifted her head her eyes were dancing and she had a big smile. “What nightie?” Harold was still looking for a reply when Liz’s next kiss removed all ambiguity.
* * *
“Good morning. I bet the girls don’t know how warm you are on cold nights.”
“Blimey, don’t tell them that.” Harold opened his eyes and hugged because, well, Liz was there and had proved to be very huggable.
“Mmm. It’s a good job I’m a callous slut who won’t need another fix for six months or so, otherwise I could get to like that in the morning.” Liz did that damn wriggle to get an impossible bit closer. “I’m not telling the girls a thing. Casper will stay quiet because I know things about him. Drunken confessions.”
“Casper knows?” Harold couldn’t see the daft sod being able to resist making jokes.
“No. I realise it spoils my slut reputation but I planned on waking alone, crying into my pillow. This is much better.” Liz smiled quietly. “I told him the truth. I wanted to clear things with you. I even brought your little rifle, and my crossbow and machete to turn them in.” True because Harold could see them from here, against the wall where the door opened. Liz kissed him on the nose. “Then I got my hug, which I really did want. Then I really was feeling frightened and lonely, and you really are a hell of a bodyguard.”
“So you just wanted a bodyguard for the night? If this is how you treat them you’ll have a queue of volunteers.” Harold grinned.
“No idiot!” Liz thumped him on the chest, which was a lot more personal like this. “Then I was enjoying the cuddle, and the stroking, and got to thinking. That’s dangerous especially when it moves to wondering.” Liz poked Harold in the ribs with a finger. “But now I know the answer so I’m immune. Don’t expect that cuddle approach to work again.”
Harold gave a huge mock-sigh. “So that’s it? I’m to be thrown into the cold cruel world, all used up?”
“No. Well yes, but not until you’re all used up. I said I leave them with a smile, but not why.” Liz produced a wicked smile and that twinkle was back in her eyes.
Harold could take hints, sometimes. “Why were they smiling?” He had a big smile already so it wouldn’t be hard to do. The smile was at least partly because Liz was still Liz, thumping his chest and teasing.
Liz slid over until she was lying on top then kissed Harold hard. “This is what you’re aiming for, just so you’ve got the end result in mind.” Liz slid slowly off to the side without losing any contact. “Now, can you remember that slow hand stuff without the music? I don’t want to freeze my butt turning the player on.”
“I could warm your butt up again? Or I can just work from memory. Hmm, now, how does it go?”
“Typical, the girl does all the work.” Liz put her mouth against his ear and sang very softly. “I need a man with slow hands.”
* * *
“Do you need breakfast, or did you get yours with cream? As in the cat with.” Sharyn greeted Harold with a big smile.
“Breakfast would be lovely. What cream? Did we find a cow or a goat?” Harold returned the smile.
“Do I have to find out when some simpering girl swoons as you come by, or sniggers and you blush?” Sharyn was already putting coffee in a mug. Harold started cutting bread for toast. “Will I be tripping over strange undies in the bathroom?”
“Sister questions. Prompted by baseless assumptions on the morals of both your little brother and the fairer sex of this parish.” Harold was sure there’d be no hints. The Liz who had pushed him out of the door was the same woman he’d been exchanging jibes with for months. She’d told Harold he must leave first. So that Liz could wipe the cream off her chin and then deal with the trauma of having weakened and bonked a wimp.
“Well it wasn’t Casper, because he phoned to say something was taking longer than expected and not to worry. So what or who was it?”
Harold smiled sweetly. “Soldier boy business.”
“I’ll get a confession eventually. I’m a sister and we have ways.” Sharyn was happy, she had a mystery and a way to tease Harold.
“Ha yes, I want to talk to you about that. Confession, the Gabriela one. I do not ever, ever, want to do that again.”
Sharyn came over and treated Harold to a sister-hug. “That was one of the most terrible, and the most beautiful things I’ve ever witnessed. You did good, bro. I heard her last word.” Sharyn’s eyes filled. “And saw her smile. That single moment has made us a community, somehow. Possibly your community. Almost everyone was there at the last moments and complete atheists were saying amen.” Sharyn sniffed and rubbed her eyes. “Then you sealed the deal by turning into that nasty soldier bastard and hunting them down.”
“But never again, right? I’m not too comfortable with the leadership thing either. I’ll kill the nasty bastards all right because someone has to. The other things send me crazy.” Harold stuck the bread in the toaster. “I’m not religious, Sharyn.”
“I know that, you fool. You’ll never do it again for two reasons. I doubt anyone else will need that sort of release, and now we would know it was you so the same thing wouldn’t work.” Sharyn shook her head. “I’m not religious but that was special, a one-off, and really was holy in some way. Perhaps sort of pagan holy considering the heads and such, but it’s helped us all somehow. Though you will have one duty now.”
“What’s that?”
“Light the pyre. Everyone was saying the same thing, they want a pyre because nobody out there will respect a graveyard. The nasty sods will piss on the markers. All those present want you to send them on the way so you’d better figure out some words.” Sharyn had a little smile. “Not religious. Someone else will sort that and anything that needs saying about them. Just a few words of goodbye at the end and stick the torch in the wood.”
“I’ll ask Casper.”
“I thought you might. Try Liz as well.” Harold kept his face straight and smiled after he’d left.
Casper didn’t even hesitate. He thumbed through a dog-eared book and then threw it over. “Here,
page a hundred and twelve.”
Harold read it. “That covers it. I was thinking of just saying ‘Fare thee well, whoever’ and sticking the flame in. How many will recognise this?”
“Nobody I know has ever heard of the poet, let alone the poem. Except me because my Mum was given it as a kid, or her Mum was. I’ve always wanted that poem read to anyone curious or morbid enough to attend. Just as my box lurches into the furnace.” Casper laughed. “Now I want Fare thee well Casper as well. It has a nice touch.”
“I’m going to run it past Liz as a sanity check.”
“She’s out the back, beating metal. Whatever you said worked. That and the soggy shoulder thing.” Casper grinned. “It doesn’t work for me. Blokes don’t break down and want sympathy the same.” He smirked. “Just make sure they’re crying before you open your arms, or that the curtains are closed.”
Harold laughed and headed round the back of the girl club, towards the sound of hammer on iron. “If I had a hammer.” Liz was singing along and beating in time.
“Hi Liz.”
“Hi wimp. Do you want to try this? Maybe build some real muscles?” Liz was smiling happily. “I’m working out the best way to make a crossbow bolt impossible to pull out without losing the limb.”
“I want some advice.”
Her smile widened. “That’s new. A few insisted on making begging phone calls, but advice? I’ll warn you I don’t do critiques because I don’t take notes at the time.”
Harold smiled back. “No thanks. I’m trying to wipe the whole terrible experience from my memory.” He waved the book. “Apparently I’m pyre-lighter in chief.”
“Too true. I expect a real flourish if you do mine. Oh cripes, that’s Casper’s lost poet book. He’s got strange tastes, except in men. What’s he picked out?”
Harold showed her. “I was going to say fare thee well whoever as well.”
“Better use their real name, not whoever. Ghosts can be damn vindictive according to the sort of films I saw. Say that at the beginning, then give this bit out to the audience as the smoke rises. Accompaniment for the snap crackle pop.” Liz grinned. “Will we be having a barbeque?
