by Fiona Field
‘So you’ll be back late Sunday, is that what you said?’ she asked.
‘That’s the plan,’ said Seb as he threw some underpants into a case. ‘Get everyone out on the lake on Saturday morning to learn the basic technique, then more advanced training Saturday afternoon, followed by trials all day on Sunday to see who’s got the most potential. After that I pick the best of the bunch to go forward for further training for a whole fortnight, after which we should have some who might be capable of joining the army team.’
‘Do you know how many people have applied?’ Not that Maddy cared. It didn’t really make any odds if Seb was dealing with two or two hundred, she knew he’d be as happy as Larry to be back on the water, doing what he loved best.
‘Not a clue,’ said Seb. ‘The only criteria, as far as I could gather, was a minimum height requirement and another one for fitness. How the hell applicants were screened after that is anyone’s guess.’ He fished his Lycra all-in-ones out of the cupboard and stuffed them on top of his other clothes. ‘Let’s hope the weather isn’t too bad. I think I’m getting soft in my old age. The thought of training in driving rain has no appeal at all.’
‘And you call yourself a soldier,’ said Maddy, snuggling up against him. She was going to miss him, she really was. It was the other stuff – the cooking and the tidying up and the rest of it – that she needed a break from.
Seb zipped up his holdall. ‘There, all done. Remind me to put my washing and shaving gear in first thing.’
‘I’ll do my best,’ said Maddy, ‘but you know what my brain’s like at the mo.’ She yawned hugely. ‘Shit, I’m knackered. If you’ve finished, I think I might turn in.’
‘An early night?’ Seb waggled his eyebrows suggestively.
Maddy felt herself sag. Oh, please God, no. ‘Seb,’ she said, ‘I’m really tired. I want a proper early night – you know – sleep.’
Seb sighed crossly. ‘Like there’s anything else you want to do in bed these days.’
‘Don’t be like that. It isn’t just my fault I’m pregnant. I can’t help feeling shitty. I’m not being sick on purpose.’
But the look on Seb’s face didn’t seem to suggest he agreed with her.
Miserably Maddy went to bed and when Seb came up later she feigned sleep. She knew if he thought he had a chance of a bit of rumpy-pumpy and she rejected him again he’d only get snarky. She didn’t have the strength to cope with one of his sulks so it was best avoided completely. However, even in the silent darkness she was aware of his simmering resentment.
Seb took the car into the barracks the next morning with his holdall shoved on the back seat. He had some paperwork that needed seeing to before he could get away from the office. And away from all that moaning about feeling a bit queasy. God, he thought, as he drove into work, Maddy was only pregnant, not ill. She hadn’t been like this with Nathan but now… now she was going about like a wet weekend, with a face on her that could stop traffic. It was just a bit of nausea when all was said and done, and yet she seemed to be using it as a stick to beat him with at every turn. Shit, he’d even had to iron a shirt this morning because she’d said she wasn’t up to it. It was like she was using morning sickness to get out of anything she didn’t fancy doing. It’d been all right before, when she’d been expecting Nathan. Then she’d managed to cope with that and a full-time job – but she’d liked that job. Now she was a full-time wife and mother it was a different story. Now she seemed to resent having a bit of childcare and housework to do. Was it so much to ask that she did the support role at home while he was filling up the bank account every month? And what happened to shagging? He could barely remember the last time he and Maddy had made love. A quick one off the wrist in the shower really wasn’t what a man needed.
Seb was still mulling over the state of his marriage as he got back in his car and set off for the rowing lake. By the time he was approaching Eton Dorney he had calmed down, although he was completely convinced that he was being perfectly reasonable and that whatever was going wrong with their marriage at the moment it was all Maddy’s fault. Well, hers and the unborn baby’s.
Seb left the motorway with the massive pile of Windsor Castle looming on the skyline and then wiggled his way along the country roads of Berkshire till he came to the sign that announced he’d arrived at his destination. He turned into the grounds surrounding the Olympic rowing venue and onto the road that led down alongside the two-kilometre lake, past the Olympic rings and towards the big boathouse at the far end. Before he reached that, he veered left and into the car park beside the campsite used by visiting crews.
He stretched when he got out of the car and glanced at his watch. Eleven – he’d made cracking time. Slamming the car door, he wandered through to the campsite to see if the tentage he’d ordered had not only arrived but was being put up by a work detail from the nearby barracks. As he rounded the hedge that separated the two areas he could see it was all going to plan. Furthermore, the trailer loads of boats from the Army Rowing Club had also been delivered. Better and better. He might even have time to get out on the lake himself before nightfall.
He cast about to find whoever was in charge to introduce himself to. He spotted a tall, uniformed woman, with her back to him, who was issuing orders to the squaddies and who was very obviously in charge of the work detail. Seb wandered over.
‘Hello,’ he said.
She spun round and Seb stopped in his tracks. Stunning was the word that sprang to mind. Wow! He’d heard the phrase fine-boned but this was the epitome of what those words actually represented. She was tall and elegantly slim, like a model, with huge brown eyes and a mass of thick dark hair that she’d tied back in a ponytail. Then she smiled at him and a dimple appeared in each cheek. Maddy was pretty, of course she was, but not in this league.
Clearing his throat and trying to get his thoughts in order, he introduced himself. ‘Sebastian Fanshaw.’ As he said his first name a combination of a gust of wind, a crack and flap of canvas and a bout of heavy-duty swearing from a nearby soldier meant the first syllable of his name was lost.
‘Bastion?’ said the vision. ‘Like the camp in Afghanistan?’
Quite why Seb didn’t put her right in that instant he couldn’t explain – not even to himself. ‘Bastian – with an ‘a’.’
‘And I’m Michelle Flowers. Pleased to meet you. Can I call you Bas for short?’
Again Seb didn’t even stop to think. ‘Of course.’ He smiled at her. Shit, she was gorgeous. ‘So, are you the boss here?’
Michelle nodded. ‘Something like that. Whip-cracker in chief, that’s me.’
Seb grinned. ‘So, Miss Whiplash, are you staying for the rowing?’
Michelle shook her head. ‘Hey, I don’t think we know each other nearly well enough for you to use that name. Only special friends are allowed to do that.’
Funny, flirty and gorgeous, thought Seb.
‘No,’ continued Michelle, ‘I’m here to supervise this lot and see the tents get put up properly.’
‘You don’t know what you might be missing out on.’
‘I don’t think rowing’s my style.’
‘Really? I mean you’re tall enough and it stands to reason you’re fit. And given the fact that you’ve got long limbs you might be very good at it.’
Michelle wrinkled her nose in a way that made Seb’s heart miss a beat. ‘Yeah, well, whatever, but I’ve heard what some of those Olympic rowers said about the pain. I might be in the army and I might be whip-cracker in chief but I’m not into masochism.’
‘Shame,’ said Seb.
Michelle let out a very unladylike guffaw. ‘Do I look like I want to visit the Red Room of Pain?’
‘The what?’
Michelle shook her head. ‘Look, if you don’t know about the Red Room of Pain, I don’t think I ought to be the one to tell you about it. Google it when you get a chance. Nuff said.’ She shot Seb another naughty smile, which he found completely disconcerting.
> ‘Anyway,’ he said, ‘why don’t you give rowing a whirl? What are you doing this weekend?’
‘Stuck here mostly. Well, that’s not exactly true but I don’t think I’ll be finished here till late and then I’ve got to be back with the guys on Sunday morning to take it all down again.’
‘There you go. Your weekend seems to be a bit of a car crash as you’ve been lemoned to sort stuff out for me and the rowers, so why not hang around on Saturday and give it a go? What have you got to lose? And you never know, you might even enjoy it. If you’re hopeless—’
‘Thanks for the vote of confidence.’
‘If you’re hopeless, we’ll call it quits and I’ll never make you get in a boat again. But you never know, you might be the new Katherine Grainger.’
‘Yeah, right.’
‘Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.’
‘Well, as my mother said, try everything once except Morris dancing and incest.’
‘Exactly. So on that basis you’ll give it a go?’
‘OK.’ She gave him a wide smile. ‘Why not? You’ve persuaded me. So as soon as we’ve got the camp sorted I’ll pop back to barracks and get my sports kit and see you back here on Saturday morning.’
‘Or you could come back later today. There a double scull on that trailer. I could take you out on the water – give you a head start. Then there’s a cracking pub down the road. If you do well enough I’ll buy you supper.’
‘Deal,’ said Michelle.
‘Deal indeed.’
Sam was lying on her bed reading her Kindle in a desultory way for want of anything better to do. Later she was going to get her hair cut but right now she was killing time. Her laundry was done and hanging up in the drying room, she’d been for a run, she’d bulled her parade shoes and tidied her room. And now she was bored, very bored. Her mobile rang. Idly she picked it off the duvet. Ooh, Michelle; she hoped her friend was ringing for some full-on girly gossip and not a quick call.
‘Hi, hon, how’s the work detail going? Is it as grim as you thought it would be?’ Sam flopped back against the pillows propped up against the headboard and winced; she’d forgotten again about the lump on her head. And the fact that she’d bashed it earlier that morning when she’d brushed her hair hadn’t helped matters either.
‘Oh, Sam, I’ve got to share this with someone. I’ve met this man.’
‘You lucky thing.’ Sam rubbed her head to try and minimise the throbbing. ‘More than I’ve done.’
There was a splort down the phone. ‘Pull the other one, Sam, you’re in an all-male battalion. You’re surrounded by men.’
‘Yeah, well…’ Sam dickered with the idea of telling Michelle that there was a bloke she half fancied but it was a bit early for that. Just good friends was really the only appropriate description of her and James. ‘Anyway, tell me about this bloke. Who is he, where did you meet? I want every detail.’
‘Well… where do I start? We met yesterday and he’s gorgeous and fit. And fit in the old sense too. Honestly, even his muscles have muscles, and he’s tall and did I say he was gorgeous?’
Sam laughed. ‘You might have mentioned that.’
‘And he’s called Bas and he rows and he’s teaching me how to row.’
‘You? Rowing?’ Sam couldn’t contain her amusement.
‘Yeah. And your point is? Just ’cos I usually avoid team sports… Anyway, Bas says I am perfectly built for it. Long limbs,’ added Michelle, smugly.
‘I suppose,’ conceded Sam.
‘And he’s clever and funny.’
‘Well, lucky old you, he sounds a catch.’
‘Well, I haven’t actually caught him yet, but, Sam, I really hope I do. He is gorgeous. Did I say that, because he really, really is.’
‘So, this gorgeous Bas bloke, what does he do?’
‘He’s a soldier. In fact, you probably know him; he’s with the Hertfordshire Regiment.’
‘Officer?’
‘Of course.’
Sam racked her brains. ‘Nope, no Bas. We don’t have a Bas in the battalion.’
‘You sure?’
‘Pretty positive.’
‘He must be with one of the other battalions or off doing a staff job somewhere.’
‘That’s probably it.’
‘Honestly, Sam, there I was in charge of all these hairy-arsed squaddies putting up tents and then this full-on Adonis pitches up and I thought I’d died and gone to heaven when I saw him. And we had a bit of a chat and then he bribed me with a promise of dinner if I had a go at rowing – and, well… I mean, what sane girl would turn down an offer like that?’
‘And your mental health has never been an issue,’ said Sam, dryly.
‘Indeedy. And then, well, let’s say I don’t mind being stuck here this weekend after all. Things are looking up.’ Michelle sighed, contentedly.
‘So all is rosy in Michelle-world.’
‘Well, things are certainly better than they were. I’m hoping now I’m going to make the squad of rowers so I get to see a lot more of him. And I mean a lot more of him.’ There was a pause. Sam suspected Michelle was busy imagining her new flame in the buff. ‘Oh, Sam, he is so wonderful. Honestly, if he’d invited me to spend last night in his tent at the lake I’d have been there like the proverbial rat up a drainpipe.’ There was another pause. ‘I’ve got it bad, haven’t I?’
Sam laughed. ‘Considering you probably haven’t even known him for a whole twenty-four hours, you certainly have! But I’m pleased for you, really I am. He sounds lovely… and gorgeous.’
‘He is, he is! And I know you’d agree with me if you met him too.’
‘Then we’ll have to fix something up. Try and stay out of trouble so you don’t pick up any more extras—’
‘Hey, that’s unfair… well, thinking about it, maybe not.’
‘And tell me when Bas can make it too and we’ll sort something out. Maybe, you never know, I might have found someone nice and we can have a double date.’
‘Ace idea. It sounds like a plan to me.’
9
Sam wasn’t the only person in the battalion feeling a little bored. Immi Cooper was also kicking her heels and wondering what on earth she could do. Unusually for her she was without a current boyfriend, which was why she was stuck on camp for the weekend. She had her elbows on the windowsill of her bunk and was staring at the view across the parade square. She supposed she could catch the bus into Warminster and go shopping, but she was finding it hard to raise the enthusiasm to do even that. She was about to fling herself down on her bed and read a magazine when she saw someone walking around the edge of the square. She recognised who it was. Luke! So he was stuck here too. Maybe the weekend wasn’t a dead loss after all. Maybe she could engineer a chance meeting… she’d take a trip to the corporals’ club later on and see if he popped in. It was time to put Operation Luke into action.
At lunchtime Immi strolled into the corporals’ club, bought herself a glass of red wine – ignoring the startled look the barman gave her – and carried it over to a quiet corner, away from the bar. There she extracted a pair of glasses and a book from her handbag and began to read. She’d Googled the top classic books of all time and had found the second on the list – Pride and Prejudice – in the garrison library. Surely Luke would be impressed. He ought to be, it had some fucking long words in it. Prejudice for starters. Who wanted to read a book where you had to eat a sodding dictionary before you could get a handle on it? On the other hand, she’d got the DVD up in her room so she didn’t have to read that much of it to find out what happened. But while she waited for Luke to turn up she’d have to make a stab at the opening pages.
God, it was dull. Where was the sex, the action, the plot? Her mind drifted away from the page. How long would she give it before she threw in the towel and returned to her room? She glanced at her watch and decided that if he hadn’t arrived by one o’clock she’d give up. She forced her attention back to her book. Come on, Lu
ke, get a move on. This is as boring as fuck, she thought as she struggled through a few more pages. And reading it wasn’t made any easier by her glasses. They might have been the weakest easy-readers in the shop but they still made the words a bit blurry. She sipped her wine, pretending she was enjoying her sophisticated drink, while she tried to make sense of her book and kept a vague eye on the comings and goings in the bar to be sure she didn’t miss Luke.
‘Wotcha, Ims.’
Immi glanced up and whipped her glasses off. Des from B Company. Where had he sprung from? He was all right – good company and everything but not the man she was waiting for.
‘Hi, Des.’ She shoved her book into her lap. She knew Des – he’d rip the piss if he saw what she was reading.
‘Can I?’ he asked, looking at the spare seats at her table, and before she could answer he’d hooked a chair out with his free hand and plonked his beer on the table.
Immi gave him a look which she hoped he’d take as a hint he wasn’t welcome.
Des ignored it. ‘What’s with the face furniture, Ims? Didn’t know you wore glasses.’
‘I don’t.’ She corrected herself. ‘I mean, I don’t as a rule.’
‘Oh, contacts, then.’
Immi nodded.
‘Ever thought of having your eyes lasered?’
She shuddered. ‘Yuck.’
‘Honest, it’s brilliant. I had mine done. What they do is, they shove some drops in and then when your eye is numb, they laser open the cornea, flip it back—’
Immi held her hand up. ‘Stop! If you want to see what I had for my breakfast you’re going the right way about it.’
‘Squeamish?’
‘Des,’ said Immi sternly, ‘if I was into that sort of stuff, do you think I’d have chosen to be a clerk? I like sitting in a nice warm office, I like shuffling paper, I do not like getting wet, cold or muddy and I don’t like anything medical. Got it?’
