by McNab, Andy
‘I stay till they arrive.’
She felt ridiculously grateful. She suddenly loved Agnieszka, for the way she stood so shyly, put the flowers where Jenny couldn’t see them and then picked up her hand and squeezed it tight.
‘God, it awful that Dave can’t phone. I think our boys are now far away from base because I have no telephone call for days.’
‘Yeah. They’re out of contact for a while.’
Jenny bit her lip and fought tears. Agnieszka did the same but less successfully.
‘These men! They say they love us. Then they leave us to have baby alone!’
Jenny thought of how Agnieszka struggled daily to deal with Luke’s fits and his anger. ‘And then they leave us to bring them up alone.’
Agnieszka nodded sadly.
‘Dishwasher break. Gutter water run down wall. Drain blocked so bath full for hours. Things fall down. Buggy squeak. And where are men? In Afghanistan.’
They smiled at each other. Then Jenny watched Agnieszka’s face dissolve into shooting stars.
‘Why baby come so early?’
‘My blood pressure’s gone bananas. It’s called pre-eclampsia.’
‘I know this thing. I was nurse in Poland.’
‘You’re a nurse!’ Jenny realized that she didn’t know Agnieszka at all. They had never talked about her life in Poland, as if she hadn’t really existed before she came to England.
‘I come here so I never finish training. Sometimes I think that, if Jamie here to help, I continue training in England. But how is this possible with Jamie away?’
‘OK,’ said the midwife, bustling in with a file. ‘Is this your birthing partner?’
‘No, I stay until partner arrive,’ said Agnieszka.
‘Sorry, you’ll have to go now,’ the midwife told her. ‘We can’t have people coming in and out.’
Agnieszka looked pale and distraught as she hugged Jenny.
‘Good luck,’ she whispered as she left.
‘Right.’ The midwife was brisk. ‘I have to take your blood pressure and we hope it’s dropped. Then I’ll check your dilation and we hope it’s increased.’
‘Supposing it’s the other way around?’
‘Then it’s a C-section I’m afraid.’
‘I don’t want a Caesarean!’
The midwife took her blood pressure and pulled a face.
‘You’ve got to do what’s right for you and Baby. Which means you may not have a choice. I’ll call the doctor now and I think he’ll say he wants you in theatre right away. To be perfectly honest, I think they’re ready for you in there.’
Jenny burst into tears.
‘It’s not the end of the world,’ said the midwife. ‘A lot of women ask for them.’
‘But there’s no one here with me!’
The midwife smiled.
‘Only an obstetrician, an anaesthetist, a midwife, God knows how many theatre staff and two paediatricians. You can’t be lonely in a crowd like that.’
But they’re all strangers, thought Jenny.
After a mumbled conversation at the door the doctor nodded to a porter and Jenny was swept off along a hospital corridor towards the operating theatre.
Chapter Fifty-three
ANGUS AND FINN WERE ON STAG TOGETHER AGAIN.
‘Just one more day here,’ said Finn. ‘Topaz Zero has promised we can go back to Sin City as soon as Emily’s results are right, and they’re almost right.’
‘Great,’ Angus said, without enthusiasm.
‘They can’t keep us here any longer because Marty needs a crap. He’s not going to use the oil drums out in the open like everyone else. And Emily won’t let him use her toilet.’
‘He hasn’t had a crap all week?’
‘Nope. His bowels are probably silted up with sand.’
It was morning. The Early Rocks were at their clearest, lit up from the east. And the desert didn’t look so flat when the sun was at this angle, lighting its contours. Across the camp the hills were mysterious with morning shadows.
‘He had a talk with me,’ said Angry suddenly.
‘Topaz Zero? About his bowels?’
‘No, Finn. About my dad.’
Finn had been scanning the hillside to discourage Angus from seeing things there. But now he swung round to look at his mate. ‘Your dad?’
Angus did not meet his gaze.
‘You know all about it. You’re the only one who does.’
Finn turned back to the hillside.
‘All about what?’ he asked cautiously.
‘Finny, stop pissing about. Masud told you and Martyn about my dad.’
‘And Martyn’s told you. What a fucking shit! Why did he do that?’
‘You didn’t tell anyone else?’
‘No, Angry. Fuck it, I didn’t even tell you!’
‘Why not? We’ve come to blows before now over my dad.’
‘Because he’s your hero. I wasn’t going to take that away from you.’
Finn looked at Angus and saw the pinched look of sleepless nights and disappointments.
‘Masud might not be right, Angry.’
Angus’s face twisted. ‘That my dad was a cook, nothing more? I believe him.’
‘Why?’
‘Well . . . things.’
‘Like what?’
‘Like, I never saw my dad’s medals and he always said they’d been stolen. I thought it was weird that he never tried to get them back. And . . . he told me a load of shit which didn’t sound right. But I tried not to fucking notice.’
Finn took a deep breath.
‘Going to have it out with him?’
‘I’ve been lying in my cot at night thinking about killing him.’
Finn said: ‘I want to kill Martyn. Why did he have to tell you?’
‘First off I hated him for it. But now I think he was right when he said I was living under my dad’s shadow. He said I should crawl out from behind it. See, I kept thinking I was seeing movement over by those boulders. And that was because I was looking extra hard. Because I wanted to be extra sharp.’
‘What’s going on down there?’ asked Finn suddenly.
They looked across the camp. There was a small commotion. Sergeant Dave Henley seemed to be at the centre of it.
The OC called Dave over to his poncho. Here at Jackpot with its heat and inactivity and civilians moving freely among them, there was a new informality. The major was wearing body armour with shorts and flipflops. There were papers spread all over his sleeping bag and the day was so airless they didn’t even flutter.
The major said: ‘I’ve got some news for you.’
Jenny. Dave felt his body turn to stone. Everything inside it that had been moving, the blood running, the cells growing, stopped for a moment.
The major’s tone was hesitant. It must be bad news.
‘Congratulations, Dave. You are the father of a new baby girl.’ The OC’s face broke into an enormous smile. Dave took a breath in but could not breathe out again until he knew more.
‘And Jenny? Is she all right?’
‘The baby was delivered by Caesarean section because of some kind of emergency. But she’s doing well now.’
The news knocked Dave from behind. His knees almost went from under him. He reached out and held onto a tent pole. A baby girl. And Jenny was fine. Something was banging away behind his eyes. Shit, it was tears. Tears of relief and tears of joy. He turned away from the major in embarrassment while he fought with himself to contain his feelings.
Major Willingham coughed.
‘I wish we had more information. I wish you were able to speak to her. I understand you knew that she’s been very ill and this week must have been hell for you, Dave, unable to communicate. Like a true professional, you gave no indication.’
Where did all this emotion come from? It appeared so suddenly, and with such a fucking intensity, that it must have been contained somewhere inside him waiting to explode. When the wagon had blown up at the
beginning of their tour, he had felt like a rag doll thrown across it. Now he was a powerless rag doll again. But this blast came from inside him.
The major said carefully: ‘When my children were born, I probably cried more than they did.’
Permission to cry. Well, Dave didn’t want it. He was not going to give in to tears in front of the OC. He closed his eyes and thought of Jenny, lying in bed with a tiny baby lying on top of her, the way she had been with Vicky. He thought how much he loved her and Vicky and the new baby. The little girl had a passport to his love, an automatic right of entry, and he didn’t need to see her to know that. She was his baby and Jenny’s, and a new birth brought with it the joy of hope and possibility. It didn’t matter where in the world you were, that joy was the same. And now all the worry was over because everyone was safe.
‘I gather there is an email on its way with pictures which I will show you as soon as we get back to base,’ said the major, stepping forward to shake his hand vigorously. ‘Congratulations. Warm congratulations.’
Dave managed to speak, although there was a thick crust around his voice. ‘Thank you, sir.’
‘It’s very hard for you, not having access to a phone. As soon as we get back . . .’
‘Yes, sir.’
Dave wandered off into the camp, dazed. A number of people had seen the OC shaking his hand.
‘Everything all right?’ asked Iain Kila. ‘Got some news?’
Dave nodded and told him. He managed to keep his voice on a railway track, straight and strong, so it couldn’t be shunted by emotion. Kila pumped his hand and Dave was startled to see that the big, hard man had damp eyes.
‘Congratulations,’ said Kila. ‘Looking forward to buying you a drink when we get to Cyprus.’
‘Shit, I’m really happy for you, Sarge,’ said Jamie, and Dave could see he meant it.
As the news spread, Dave received many congratulations and promises of drinks. He was surprised how affected some people were by the news, particularly those who were already fathers.
He answered the same questions over and over again.
‘Pre-eclampsia, it’s something to do with blood pressure.’
‘Don’t know how much she weighs.’
‘Yeah, I bet Vicky’s all over her.’
‘Dunno what we’re going to call her.’
‘Jenny’s mum was supposed to be there. I hope she was.’
Nobody said it. Nobody said: ‘You should have been there too.’
When he came down from the tower, Finn was particularly happy with the news.
‘I’m certainly buying you a drink. Didn’t like to tell you this, Sarge, but I was offering eleven to ten on that it was a boy.’
Dave frowned but felt too happy to bollock him.
‘How many lads had a punt on that?’ he asked.
Finn grinned.
‘The whole fucking platoon.’
Chapter Fifty-four
DARREL TOOK AGNIESZKA AND LUKE TO THE BEACH. THEY MET AT THE supermarket and transferred a mountain of baby equipment from her car to his. Finally they transferred Luke himself.
‘You need a break,’ said Darrel as they headed south to the coast. She had been upset after Jenny had given birth in an operating theatre without Dave or her mother or even Adi to hold her hand.
‘I should have stayed with her. But she was expecting her mother to come. And Luke . . .’
‘You did the right thing, Aggie,’ Darrel assured her.
Agnieszka had continued to look miserable.
‘No. Dave in operating theatre is right thing.’
But heading south for the coast was making Agnieszka feel more light-hearted and relaxed. They were having an Indian summer and the air sparkled in the sun.
They parked on the clifftop and by now Luke was awake and beginning to look angry.
‘I think he a little bit hungry,’ said Agnieszka, worrying that they would not get down to the sand before he had started to express his hunger in the earsplitting way he expressed all his needs.
‘OK, well, let’s feed him now,’ said Darrel. ‘Where’s the milk, where’s the food?’
She pointed to a bag and he lifted it out. With the other hand he unstrapped Luke. He carried everything to a sheltered seat overlooking the sea, sat down and proceeded to feed the surprised baby.
Agnieszka stood watching. He held the child so tenderly in his arms. It moved her. It was the same with Jamie. She knew Jamie was now machine-gunner for his section and she had seen pictures of him in the past with an immense, dark weapon of crafted metal. She knew it was his job to kill people. Then he came home and held his baby with the same hands that had worked the killing machine and his gentleness never failed to touch her.
She looked across the blue bay to the strange white rocks that stuck out of the water at the land’s edge like teeth.
Darrel was saying: ‘There you are then, mate. Enjoying that? OK, let’s wipe your mouth and have another go. Good, isn’t it?’
She swung round.
‘Why you so nice to my baby?’
‘Because,’ Darrel said, ‘he’s your baby.’
He handed the contented bundle that was Luke to Agnieszka.
‘He needs a hug from you.’
Agnieszka felt doubtful about this. She had found the baby buggy with its sheepskin lining far more to Luke’s taste than any hug from her. Holding him when he screamed had never been a successful strategy. But she took him now. She looked down at his relaxed, satisfied face. He almost smiled. She began to rock him from side to side. He fixed his big, blue eyes on her and now he did smile. She smiled back.
‘How often do you do that?’ asked Darrel.
‘He not usually like it.’
She’d tried cuddling him and rocking him when he was born but nothing she did had been right for him. He’d glared at her with an angry pout and loudly, continually, endlessly expressed his dissatisfaction. And so he had become a nappy that needed changing, an open mouth that needed feeding, a loud scream that only walking, walking and more walking could silence, an angry, demanding little emperor who had to be placated and rocked to sleep. Then he was a patient, with his fits, his hospital visits and his doctors. But he was almost never a baby who needed cuddling.
She said: ‘He so calm it must be sea air.’
Darrel agreed, and told her to carry him down to the beach while he followed with the stuff.
So she carried Luke down the zigzag path, past sweet-smelling flowers, and he kept his eyes fixed on her all the way, except for the occasions when his focus slid to the blue sky and puffball clouds or the sharp outline of agaves on the cliff. He was asleep by the time they reached the beach.
‘Oh, I thought to change his nappy,’ said Agnieszka.
‘Leave him, he’s peaceful,’ Darrel told her as they found a spot on the sand to make their own and laid out the towels and set up the sunshade over Luke. Agnieszka placed him carefully beneath it and he did not wake.
She was embarrassed to take off her clothes and reveal her body in its bikini. She fussed around the baby and the bags until Darrel had changed into his swimsuit under a towel.
‘I’m going for a swim,’ he told her and she watched him walk towards the sea, lean and strong.
Quickly she took off her own clothes and adjusted her bikini. Then she lay down under the warm blanket of the sun, feeling its rays bless her and kiss her, basking in its generosity. It was different from the sun Jamie was always sheltering from in Afghanistan. The English sun was kind. She closed her eyes and felt its light and heat on her eyelids.
Everything was all right when Darrel was around. He had been a good friend to her lately. He had said that they would be friends, no more, and the friendship had made life more pleasant. She was happy. Luke was happy. Darrel was happy. It was a simple structure and its simplicity gave it strength.
She became aware of a shadow falling over her. She opened her eyes. Darrel was standing nearby, looking at her.
&
nbsp; ‘Asleep?’ he asked.
‘No.’
He lay down beside her and it was like the tide coming in: she could sense his presence straight out of the sea, wet and cool.
