by Fiona Field
On top of that, her best friend Caro (who also acted as Nate’s childminder) and her husband Will hadn’t been posted down to Wiltshire along with the rest of the battalion – instead, Will had been sent off to London to some position at the MOD, so now Maddy had lost her job and her favourite neighbour and her lovely childminder too. Looking for employment was going to be a mission – and it wasn’t going to be made easier by having to find childcare too. Did she find a job and then look for childcare, or vice versa?
Maddy sat down on an armchair, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with tiredness. What was the matter? she wondered. No doubt the fact that she felt rather less than ‘well’ was down to the stress of the move. With every single family and all the soldiers having to pack up and relocate in one monstrous game of musical chairs, the wives weren’t in much of a position to help each other out. With everyone up to their eyeballs cleaning their quarters, getting the removal companies in to pack, and the menfolk frantically organising the move of all the kit, weapons and vehicles, no one had any spare capacity to lend a hand to anyone else.
Maddy shut her eyes. She felt utterly wiped out. Instantly Nathan crawled over to her and clambered onto her lap, thrusting his favourite stuffed rabbit at her.
‘Hello, Bun,’ said Maddy, wearily giving the toy a waggle. Nathan leaned against her and sucked contentedly on his thumb.
‘Well, this isn’t going to get the house straight,’ said Seb, bouncing into the room.
‘I need tea before I can start to tackle this,’ said Maddy.
Seb looked at her expectantly and then the penny dropped. ‘Oh, you want me to find the kettle and make it, do you?’
Maddy suppressed a sigh. Well done, Einstein. ‘There’s a box in the boot of the car with everything in.’
After Seb had left, Maddy let her eyes droop again. Five minutes’ peace, that’s all she wanted. She shut her mind to the clattering and huffing that Seb was generating in the kitchen. Why did he have to make such a performance about any sort of domestic duties? She felt herself start to drift…
‘Wake up, sleepy.’
Maddy yawned and tipped Nathan off her lap before accepting a mug of tea. Nathan shuffled across the carpet and then plopped down on his nappy-clad bottom before rolling onto his back and waving his chubby legs in the air. God, thought Maddy, how wonderful it would be to lie down like that without a care in the world. She took a sip of her tea. Her stomach lurched.
Carefully she put the mug down on a nearby box. Not just tired, but now ropey as well. What was wrong with her? She didn’t have time to be ill. There were beds to be made up and the kitchen to start on or they wouldn’t be able to eat and sleep.
Her stomach griped again. Uh-oh. She left her tea and dashed from the room to the downstairs loo, which she remembered being by the front door. She just made it before she retched, bringing up that sip of tea and precious little else.
Seb appeared at the still-open door. ‘You all right, Mads?’ He sounded worried.
She couldn’t answer him as she was retching again, but with nothing to bring up all it did was make her feel as if her body was trying to turn itself inside out. Wrung out, she slumped down on the cold lino and leaned against the wall.
Seb pushed open the door further. ‘Mads?’
She shook her head. ‘Go and look after Nate. My tea…’ She worried he might be able to reach it from the top of the box.
‘It’s all right, I put it on the mantelshelf. What’s wrong? My tea-making isn’t that bad surely?’
Maddy looked up at her husband and gave him a wan smile. ‘No idea. I’ve been feeling a bit off colour all day, to be honest.’
‘You should have said.’
Maddy shut her eyes. And if she had? Would the move have been postponed? Not a chance. ‘Give me a minute. I’ll be OK in a mo. Honest.’
Seb didn’t look convinced.
There was a wail from the sitting room. ‘Go on, Seb,’ insisted Maddy. He left and she felt a slight sense of relief not to have him fussing over her. She loved him to bits but she knew there was nothing he could do. She wasn’t operating at a full hundred per cent, that was for sure, but with Seb flapping the percentage fell way down the scale. Wearily she pushed herself off the floor and clambered back on her feet. Her knees felt so shaky she sat on the loo for a second to steady herself while her head stopped swimming. The ringing in her ears slowly faded and the waves of nausea became ripples. Whatever it was seemed to have passed – sort of.
‘You all right now?’ asked Seb as she returned to the sitting room.
‘Yeah, fine,’ she lied. She glanced at her tea, longing for the drink but not sure that she dared risk another sip. She gave a brisk exhalation of breath. ‘Right, well, this isn’t getting the unpacking done. I’m going to make a start on making up the beds. There’s an army-issue playpen in the hall. Can you put it together, please, so Nate isn’t on the loose, then find some toys to keep him amused, and then maybe make a start in here?’
Seb nodded. ‘Anything else, ma’am?’
‘Not for the time being.’ Maddy trotted up the stairs with a false show of strength and bravado and collapsed in a heap on the double bed when she made it into the main bedroom. Her head was spinning again. For the second time in a few minutes she waited for the dizziness and nausea to pass. Maybe she needed to eat, maybe that was the problem. She hadn’t had much since she’d got up at dawn to get herself and Nathan washed and dressed before the removal men came to collect the boxes. Seb had spent the night down in Wiltshire, having taken over their new quarter the night before, but had come back first thing to help hand over the old one and then drive them to their new home. Maddy had managed a Ryvita while she’d fed Nathan his mashed banana and rusk but since then it had all been go-go-go. Yes, she decided, that was probably the trouble.
The next morning she was awoken, as usual, by Nathan squawking in his cot in the nursery, which was, in effect, the little box room, opposite their bedroom. As Maddy swung her feet out of bed she felt her head start to spin again and the feeling of nausea from the day before thundered back. She ran to the washbasin in the corner of their bedroom and heaved.
‘Mads?’ said Seb.
Between body-racking waves of retching Maddy told him that he’d have to see to their son. And as she did the penny began to drop that this queasiness might have more significance than a passing bug. With obvious bad grace Seb lumbered out of bed and stomped across the landing.
An anguished yell came from the nursery. ‘Mads, you’ll have to come and help. Nathan’s done a poo. I can’t cope, I might be sick.’
‘Sod off, Seb, you’ll have to. I am actually being sick.’ Honestly, thought Maddy, sometimes she could cry.
Sam showed her ID card at the guardroom of 1 Herts’ new barracks and then drove her nifty little red sports car up the hill towards the battalion HQ, where she would report to the CO. When she’d done that she’d be free to move into the officers’ mess and make a start on turning her allocated room into something more like home. Actually, not like home. She wanted her room to be comfortable and cosy and not functional and austere, which was how their quarters had always felt. No woman’s touch to soften the edges. She wanted scatter cushions on her bed and armchairs, photos on the walls, bright rugs on the floor, and shelves full of books; all the things her father called dust-traps. His only concession to photos was the one of her mother he kept in his study, a duplicate of the one Sam had. The only difference was that Sam looked at hers.
But thinking about how she might arrange her possessions in her room wasn’t the priority right now; her priority was to make sure she made a good first impression on her new boss.
She swung her Mazda into the visitors’ car park at the battalion HQ, checked her appearance in the rear-view mirror – yup, she’d do – before grabbing her beret and settling it on her blonde curls. As she slammed the car door, she clocked a couple of soldiers giving her an appreciative once-over before they snapped her a salut
e. She returned it with a ‘Carry on, lads’ as she pushed open the door to the office block and made her way to the chief clerk’s office, passing piles of boxes of stationery in the corridor, a slew of map cases and a couple of filing cabinets. Sam knew the battalion had recently been arms-plotted to this barracks and they were obviously still trying to get straight. A pretty brunette female clerk sitting at a desk near the door stood up respectfully when she saw Sam enter. Sam read the fabric name label stitched to her combats and noticed the stripe next to it.
‘Corporal Cooper, do sit down again. I’m Captain Lewis and I’m reporting for duty – the new OC of the Light Aid Detachment. Could you direct me to the adjutant so I can introduce myself to him and the CO?’
‘Yes, ma’am. Of course.’
Sam stood to one side to let Cooper past so she could follow her. ‘Sorry about the mess ma’am. The move means we’re all at sixes and sevens. Should be straight again soon, though. And if I may say so, ma’am, it’s nice to see another woman join 1 Herts. There’s only about a dozen of us here so your arrival is very welcome. Carry on at this rate and we might make the infantry almost civilised.’ Sam grinned at Corporal Cooper and took an instant liking to her. If Cooper was representative of the other members of the battalion, Sam felt she was going to get on just fine.
Cooper stopped outside an office near the other end of the corridor from the clerk’s office and knocked.
‘Sir, this is Captain Lewis. She’s the new OC LAD.’
Cooper stood back to let Sam into the office. Sam entered and saluted. Andy Bailey, the adjutant, stared at her slack-jawed from behind his desk before remembering his manners and leaping to his feet.
Sam was a tiny bit taken aback. Something obviously wasn’t right, but she couldn’t work out what the hell it was.
‘Sorry,’ said Andy, ‘this is a bit of a shock. I assumed Captain Sam Lewis was going to be a man.’
Sam gave him a wry smile. ‘Well, I hope that the fact I’ve turned out to be a woman isn’t too much of a disappointment.’
‘No, well…’ Andy stopped. ‘My fault for assuming. It’s, well… 1 Herts has never had a female officer who has lived in the mess before. I’m Andy, Andy Bailey.’ He stuck out his hand for Sam to shake before he gestured to her to take a seat.
‘What, never?’ she exclaimed as she took her beret off and sat down. ‘Then it’s probably about time.’ Sam tried to sound casual and upbeat but she hadn’t expected not only to be the sole woman to be living in but also the first.
‘Of course, we’ve had a fair few female soldiers serve with us – got a few right now, as a matter of fact – and a while back we had a female medical officer, but she was married and lived out.’
‘So, me being here isn’t going to be a problem,’ said Sam.
‘Of course not,’ said Andy, swiftly. Then he grinned. ‘A novelty maybe, a problem, no.’
But Sam wasn’t entirely convinced.
‘Anyway, we need to tell the colonel you’re here.’ Andy Bailey pressed a buzzer on his intercom. ‘Sam Lewis is here, Colonel.’
‘Send him in,’ came the reply.
There was a pause before Andy took his finger off the intercom button. Sam looked at him and raised her eyebrow.
‘The CO’s in for a surprise too, isn’t he?’ she said.
‘He’ll get over it.’
Andy stood up, walked round his desk and opened the interconnecting door to the next office. Sam shoved her beret on her head again, pulling it down automatically to make it mould into the correct shape, and followed the adjutant.
‘Sir,’ she said as she saluted on the threshold.
‘Come in…’
Sam saw Colonel Notley’s eyes widen before he smoothly recovered himself.
‘Come in,’ he repeated. ‘Shut the door.’
Sam did as she was ordered and then approached his desk. The CO’s office was perfect with a mass of regimental group photos on the freshly painted walls, the trophy cabinet filled with gleaming cups, and all the office furniture neatly arranged. Chaos might still be the order of the day for much of the battalion, but not in here. The privileges of rank and all that.
‘Take a seat,’ the CO instructed. ‘Tea? Coffee?’
Sam declined. ‘I’m fine, thanks, sir.’
‘So…’ The CO stared at her. ‘This is a bit of a turn-up. The postings branch didn’t explain that Sam was short for Samantha. It is, isn’t it?’
She nodded. ‘Sir, the adjutant tells me you haven’t had a woman living in the mess before.’
‘No, well, it’ll be a new experience for the men. No doubt you’ll bring a civilising influence to bear. Of course, we’ve always welcomed the fair sex with open arms – wives, girlfriends – but being an infantry regiment, well, there aren’t many roles for female officers.’
‘Andy thought I’d be a bit of a novelty,’ said Sam.
‘And a very welcome one.’
She hoped he was right.
The interview continued, with Colonel Notley questioning her about sports and activities she liked, the way he hoped she’d soon become a fully integrated member of the unit and, very interestingly, the news that the following February the whole of the battalion, the LAD included, would be off to Kenya on exercise.
Kenya! thought Sam. That’s a bonus. There was she thinking that all she’d get to see over the next couple of years was a lot of Salisbury Plain and now, suddenly, the future looked vastly more exciting.
As she left battalion HQ and drove across to the officers’ mess she wondered how the lads in the mess would take to having a woman in their midst. Would she be embraced or shunned? She suspected it would all very much come down to how well she made the effort to fit in. She’d managed it on her REME troop commander’s course but this was a whole other issue.
She found the mess without difficulty – a long, two-storey, neo-Georgian, red-brick building with a sandstone portico. She parked her car and then made her way to the front door to find the mess manager and then her room.
She pushed open the heavy oak front door and went up the two steps into the large entrance hall, her footsteps deadened by the thick maroon carpet. In the middle of the hall was a circular pedestal table with a bowl of flowers in the middle, the scent of the roses just discernible over the smell of damp dogs, Brasso and wax polish. The mess was silent, all the livers-in being at work and the staff, having cleaned and tidied the place, were now, she imagined, in the kitchens, preparing the next meal.
She followed the sound of faint clattering and finally found signs of life behind heavy, double swing doors that issued a gust of delicious-smelling warm air as she pushed them open. Silence fell amongst the chefs and stewards as she poked her head into the kitchen.
‘Sorry,’ she apologised, ‘but I’ve been posted in and I’m looking for the mess manager. I heard voices and was hoping one of you would be able to tell me where to find him.’
The silence continued for a second longer, then a man in chef’s whites stepped forward and said with an East London accent, ‘Posted in? ’ere? You sure? This is 1 ’Erts’ mess.’
As Sam nodded she saw the guys exchange looks.
‘Yes, 1 Herts. I’m the new OC LAD.’
‘Ah,’ said a mess waiter in a white bum-freezer jacket, ‘you’re REME.’
Sam nodded. ‘That’s right,’ she reassured him. ‘Women aren’t planning on trying their luck in the infantry yet!’
The mess staff laughed.
‘If you’d like to follow me, ma’am,’ said the mess waiter.
‘Thank you,’ said Sam.
Behind her she heard one of the staff say, ‘… and thank God for that. Can you imagine what women would be like in the trenches – demanding we all wipe our boots before we entered the dug-outs.’ A louder burst of laughter followed that remark, cut off suddenly as the heavy kitchen door finally closed.
In silence she followed the waiter along the thickly carpeted corridor to a door off the mai
n hall, tucked under the big staircase that led to the upper floor.
The waiter opened the door and stood to one side to let Sam pass. The office was almost filled by a large partner’s desk and a filing cabinet. A sergeant, sitting behind the desk, stood as Sam entered and cast her a puzzled look.
‘I’m Captain Lewis,’ she explained. ‘New posting. Could you show me to my room, please?’
The sergeant’s mouth opened slightly, before he caught himself and shut it quickly. Hadn’t anyone thought that Captain Lewis, REME, might be a woman? They did exist in the REME – had done for years, now.
‘Yes, of course, ma’am. I’m Sergeant McManners, the mess manager. Welcome to 1 Herts.’
‘Thank you, Sergeant.’
They made their way up the wide, shallow stairs to the first floor, where McManners paused. He appeared to be thinking.
‘To be honest, ma’am, seeing as you’re a captain I was going to put you on this corridor with the other junior officers, but given that you’re also a lady I think you might be more comfortable in a field officer’s suite.’
‘But I’m only a captain. And I really don’t think that making special allowances because I’m not a man is the best way to help me integrate, do you?’
‘But, ma’am, if you have a suite, you’ll have your own sitting room. Some of the lads have been known to get quite…’ he paused ‘…rowdy.’
Ah, he thinks I might be some sort of shrinking violet. ‘Honestly, I’ll be fine.’ Sam considered quoting Queen Elizabeth I’s speech about being weak and feeble but having the stomach and the heart of a king. No, a bit too much at this early stage. ‘Please, Sergeant McManners, if I find it’s a dreadful mistake we can re-think at a later date, but, in the meantime, treat me like any other officer.’
‘You’ll never guess,’ said Seb, when he got home that night.
