by Fiona Field
‘I’ll cope.’
She had no doubts on that score. Besides, he’d get to do things his way, not hers. ‘And I’m going to need a driver so that’ll be two of us out of the loop. There’s a bit of me that says “bugger it” and that I should risk going on my own…’
‘You can’t. You know what standard operating procedures say. And it’s in SOPs for a reason. It can be bloody dodgy out there. What with poachers and the wildlife, if you had a breakdown it simply wouldn’t be safe on your own.’
‘I know, I know. I wasn’t going to do it, really.’ But even so, she felt that if there had been a sniff of a chance of getting away with it she’d have had a try. They really didn’t have the manpower to spare a driver for her – a guy to be her chauffeur and to hold her hand. But, on the other hand, the Bailey bridge was being built a very long way upcountry, far too far away for it to be in any way sensible to attempt such a journey on her own. No, the ASM was right, she’d have to have a driver.
‘Who can we spare?’ she asked.
‘Think it’s going to have to be Blake.’
Sam’s heart sank. Of all the guys in her LAD the one she least fancied spending a straight forty-eight hours with was Blake.
‘OK, Mr Williams, you’d better tell him to get ready to move out tomorrow.’
‘Ah, that’s the thing.’
‘What’s the thing?’ Sam felt her heart sink further.
‘You know that BBC journo we’ve got embedded?’
‘Yeah.’
‘He’s up at the bridge – doing a piece about the hearts and minds aspect of the exercise. The CO wants the genny fixed ASAP so this guy can see how efficient and wilco 1 Herts are. I don’t think he wants the sappers getting all the kudos; he wants some for us as well.’
Sam nodded. ‘So tell me, this means Blake and I are leaving today, right?’
The ASM nodded. ‘That’s about the size of it. As soon as you can if you’re going to make it before nightfall.’
Great. Fucking great. ‘OK.’ She sighed again. ‘Tell Blake that he’s been spammed for this, tell him to meet me outside my room in twenty minutes.’ She pulled a piece of paper towards her and scribbled a few words on it. ‘And can you make sure this gets to Captain Rosser. Tell him “sorry” from me, would you, and that I’ll see him at Endex.’
‘Righto, ma’am.’
Sam pushed the papers on her desk into a pile and headed off to the cubby hole she called her room to grab her kit for the trip.
Jack was sitting under a thorn tree on a folding chair, tapping away at his laptop, pausing every now and again to look at the scene ahead of him. Thirty yards in front of him was a swirling brown river and on the same bank as him were twenty or so soldiers, stripped to the waist, building a bridge out of the biggest Meccano set in the universe. It was hot, heavy work but the soldiers were laughing and joshing as they laboured, making the piecing together of the complicated structure all look remarkably easy. The troop commander had told Jack that, in essence, it was a case of reading the instructions.
‘A bit like flat-pack furniture. You know, you insert tab A into slot B and Bob’s your uncle.’
As Jack had once been almost reduced to a gibbering wreck trying to construct an Ikea bookcase he wasn’t so sure – not that he was going to admit it to this young army officer. He swatted a fly and then took off his bush hat and used it to fan himself. Shit, it was hot. He reached down beside his chair, grabbed his water bottle and took a swig. Bleuch, it was warm, but he still glugged down half of it.
A light flashed on his screen, warning him that his battery was dangerously low. Quickly he hit the save button, shoved in a memory stick and re-saved to that – belt and braces and all that – and then shut down his machine.
‘Finished?’ said Immi.
Jack shook his head. ‘Nowhere near. But until we get a generator that works I have no way of recharging the batteries. I brought three and they’re all flat now.’
‘You’ve got to hope that one will get here today. I don’t want to spend another night out here with bugger all light,’ said Immi with feeling. ‘God knows what was making those noises last night but it sounded big and hungry.’
‘It was probably miles away. Sound carries a long way out here.’
Immi gave him a look that told Jack she thought he was talking out of his rear end.
‘Truly,’ he said with a grin.
‘Huh.’
‘Look,’ he said, ‘I can’t write without my laptop. I thought I’d take a bunch of pictures, shoot a video. Want to help?’
‘How?’ said Immi warily.
‘I want you to hold the camera while I do a piece to it. Think you can do that?’
Immi perked up. ‘As long as it’s not too complicated.’
‘It’s point and click. Honest. All you do is hold it steady and focus on my face.’
‘OK.’
‘I thought I’d go along the bank there so I can get the guys working in the background. And then I’m planning to head off to the village to talk to some of the locals about the difference this bridge will make. The hot intel is that the headman speaks good English so it should make a nice story. It’s always better when the viewers hear it straight from the horse’s mouth and not via an interpreter. You can come too, if you’d like. In fact, I’d really like it if you did.’
Immi didn’t look too keen.
‘You’d add a bit of glamour – the newsroom might like it. You’d get your face on the telly.’
That did it, but Jack could tell that Immi was trying to look casual about the prospect. ‘No, you’re right. It’ll pass the time.’
Jack went to the vehicle where he had his kit stored and returned with a large camera bag. He got out the hand-held video camera. He showed Immi how to hold it, which buttons she had to press and stood in front of her while she had a go at filming him.
‘How do you know what to say?’ she said, after Jack had delivered a short but succinct piece about what the sappers were hoping to achieve.
‘It’s not rocket science,’ said Jack. ‘I say what I see. Besides…’ he gave her a grin ‘…being coherent in front of a camera is the day job.’
Immi shrugged and handed him back the camera. ‘Here, you’d better check that I didn’t screw up.’
Jack stood next to Immi so she could look at the screen too. He was very aware of her fresh clean smell. He’d had to get up close and personal with loads of soldiers in his time but Immi was a one-off. Despite the fact that she seemed the least likely person ever to have joined the army there was something refreshing about her honesty when it came to her attitude to privation and hardship. She’d shared her opinion about the latrines several times. And, in spite of himself, Jack couldn’t but help respect the fact that, despite the tough conditions of the sappers’ camp, she still managed to have immaculate hair and make-up. This was obviously a woman who wasn’t prepared to let her standards slip because there was no running water or even decent sanitation. But he’d also noticed the way that she didn’t take any shit from the soldiers. She might not be able to carry her own body weight in kit, she mightn’t like wildlife, but if any of the squaddies gave her any lip at all she could issue a blistering put-down without a second thought, which always amused the other lads who were not the butt of her remarks. So, in spite of the fact that she was a girly-girl, all the guys who worked with her really seemed to like her. And Jack found that he did too.
He filmed the soldiers as they carried on building the bridge, he interviewed the troop commander and some of his men about being tasked to help the locals and got some interesting comments regarding the importance of putting something back into a country that let them have free rein to play with their kit and where, despite the less than commendable behaviour of a previous generation of soldiers, the locals were almost invariably friendly.
He began to stow his camera away.
‘That you finished?’ said Immi, watching him work.
�
��I’ve got what I want here. Now I’m going over to the village.’
‘Is it far?’
‘’Bout a mile. I thought we’d walk—’
‘Walk!’
‘Yeah, you know, putting one foot in front of the other.’
Immi narrowed her eyes. ‘Don’t you get smart with me, Mr BBC Reporter.’
Jack laughed. ‘I want to get a feel for what the kids have had to do to get to and from school. Only they have to walk about four times the distance, morning and night. So… you coming?’
‘But what about lions and shit like that?’
Jack looked at her. ‘And what do you think the kids have for protection when they walk to school?’
‘But…’
Jack raised his eyebrows. ‘Oh, go on. Live dangerously.’
‘It’s dying dangerously that bothers me.’ Immi sighed. ‘Oh, come on, then. The sooner we go, the sooner some bloody lion gets its lunch.’
She picked up her daysack, shoved several litre bottles of water into it and set off.
‘Oi,’ said Jack.
Immi spun around. ‘Come on,’ she called back.
‘You’re going the wrong way.’
‘Fuck.’ She retraced her steps and together they set off through the scrub to the village.
Maddy sat at her kitchen table, spooning mashed avocado into Nathan’s mouth, while Jenna sat beside her and toyed with a glass of wine.
‘I feel guilty about drinking your wine when you aren’t having any,’ she said.
‘God, don’t you dare,’ said Maddy. ‘You’ve done more than enough already and this is the least I can do to thank you.’ She scraped out the bowl and shoved the last spoonful of green goo at Nathan. He banged his hands on the tray of his high chair in appreciation and smacked his lips.
‘More,’ he said.
‘Sorry, hon. All gone.’ Maddy showed him the empty bowl.
‘Gone,’ repeated Nathan.
Maddy handed him a breadstick to chew on and then levered herself to her feet. As she straightened up she winced.
‘Ouch,’ she said. She leaned against the counter and breathed slowly.
‘You all right?’
‘Yeah, fine. The little bugger is being really active today.’ And it didn’t help matters that her back seemed to be aching. Not so surprising, she thought, with all this extra weight to carry.
‘Bugger,’ said Nathan.
Maddy looked at him aghast as Jenna hooted with laughter.
‘Ain’t that typical,’ said Jenna. ‘You’d best hope he forgets that word again before his daddy comes home.’
‘Bugger, bugger, bugger,’ crowed Nathan.
‘I’m going to pretend I’m not hearing this,’ said Maddy. ‘If I say anything I’ll probably make things worse.’
She opened the oven door and the smell of warm quiche wafted into the kitchen. She looked at the tart and decided that it looked ready to serve so she hauled it out and plonked it on the table. Then she reached into the fridge and took out a bowl of salad.
‘Blimey,’ said Jenna. ‘This is a bit healthy, isn’t it?’
‘Well, if it was just me I wouldn’t bother much but I kind of feel responsible for junior here. I can probably survive pretty well without my five-a-day but…’ She patted the bump.
They all tucked into their lunch. Maddy let Nathan use his hands to eat his quiche so she and Jenna could get on with their meal uninterrupted.
‘So,’ said Jenna. ‘What are you going to do?’
Maddy gazed at her. ‘You mean about Seb?’
Jenna nodded.
Once again Maddy’s eyes filled with tears. What was the matter with her? She was so emotional. ‘I don’t know. I mean, I don’t even know if this woman is telling the truth. Supposing she’s out to cause trouble? Supposing she’s lying about going with Seb.’
‘Is that what you think?’
‘I’ve got to.’ Maddy gulped. ‘If I’m wrong, and there really is something going on, what happens to us?’ She gazed at Nathan and then her bump.
Jenna put her hand over Maddy’s. ‘Whatever happens, I’ll be here for you. You were kind to me once. I’d like to repay the favour. But we’ve got to hope it doesn’t come to that.’
‘The thing is,’ admitted Maddy, ‘if it is true, can I ever trust him again? I feel sick every time I even think about it. I mean, how could he?’
‘Take it from me, Mads, soldiers like shagging. Their brains are in their bollocks and they can only think with their dicks. Of course, officers might be different but that’s what squaddies are like.’
Maddy gave a weak laugh. ‘The trouble is what with morning sickness and now being so utterly huge Seb’s not been getting much… any, really.’
‘So, do you really believe that if another girl gives him the come-on…?’
Maddy sighed. ‘I don’t know. I don’t want to believe he would be like that. But that doubt is there now. Maybe I should pretend I’ve never had any contact with Michelle. Never mention Michelle, and what she said, to him or anyone. Maybe if I behave like an ostrich it’ll all go away.’ She shook her head. ‘And if it is true, given how rubbish I’ve been as a wife lately, I can’t really blame him, can I?
‘Oh, yes, you fu…’ Jenna shot a look at Nathan. ‘Oh, yes, you can. Well, I would. Maybe you’re a nicer person.’
‘Maybe I’ve got more to lose. If he leaves me I become an irregular occupant and the army has the right to kick me out of this place in six months. Jen, how would I cope with being homeless with two tiny children?’ Maddy’s face crumpled. ‘It doesn’t matter if I trust him or not – I can’t risk putting the kids through that. Jen, if he comes back I think I’ve got to pretend that nothing ever happened.’
‘Then you’d better hope that Michelle plays along too. It’ll be a hard act to pull off if she keeps hanging around. This is why you’ve got to tell the authorities and get her stopped.’
Maddy sniffed. ‘You’re right, and I will do it, promise. On Monday.’ She gasped again. ‘Hell’s teeth.’ She glared at her bump. ‘Stop it, I know you don’t like Michelle either but there’s no need to lash out.’
26
Through the door of her tiny room Sam could see Luke sitting in the Land Rover, staring straight ahead, one hand resting on the open side of the vehicle, his fingers drumming on the metalwork. From his expression and his body language she could tell he was pissed off. Beyond pissed off.
Well, me too, buddy, thought Sam as she hefted her Bergen onto her shoulders, picked up her day sack and headed out of her cubby hole and into the bright African sun. I don’t want to trek up north any more than you do, so get over it.
‘Afternoon, Corporal,’ she said as she rolled her pack off her back and into the rear of the Rover, where it landed with a thud next to the case of water, Luke’s own Bergen, a half-dozen jerrycans of fuel and the other paraphernalia they were lugging up to the sappers’ camp. She stepped over the towbar that connected the genny to the vehicle, chucked her day sack into the footwell and then settled herself in the passenger seat beside Luke.
‘Ma’am,’ acknowledged Luke.
‘All set?’ she asked.
‘I was waiting for you,’ he said.
‘So, that’s a yes, then, is it?’ she said. She glanced across at him and wondered why she felt unnerved by his proximity. No, not unnerved but definitely unsettled. It was, she was sure, because he was such a closed book, and yet there was definitely something edgy about him. As Luke started the engine and drove towards the camp gates he looked across at her with the intensity that rattled her. She buckled up her seat belt to cover up her confusion.
On the dash was a millboard with a range map clipped to it.
‘Will you need me to map read?’ she asked, as she reached for it, but Luke beat her to it and snatched it away. He flipped up the map and showed her the route card he’d written out.
‘I know my way,’ he said.
He shoved the map back on the dash a
s the Rover bounced and jounced over the rutted dirt track that led through the camp. Finally they were through the barrier and then onto the black top and Luke was able to move up through the gears and get some speed on. Or he was until they hit the town of Nanyuki and the bonkers traffic of the sprawling town. Almost as soon as the houses and shops sprang up along the road the traffic increased exponentially and they were back to a crawl. Sheesh, at this rate, if they got to the sappers’ base before nightfall it would be a miracle. Sam watched him carefully manoeuvre through the traffic, avoiding the other cars, the pedestrians wandering around in the warm sunshine, the stray dogs, the donkey carts and the brightly painted matatus – the local minibus-cum-taxis that were invariably overladen and whose drivers seemed to think that they were exempt from obeying the normal laws of the road. Indicating or giving way didn’t seem to be conventions that applied to their drivers so Luke had to constantly hit the brakes to avoid collisions.
‘Look at that,’ she said, pointing at a hideous marabou stork picking over a rubbish heap.
‘I’d be better off watching the road,’ retorted Luke, as he swerved to avoid a wobbling, overladen bike.
‘Goodness,’ she said, pointing at some women in local headdress. Then, ‘Watch out,’ as a man stepped out in front of them.
Luke slapped his hands on the steering-wheel. ‘You know, ma’am, it might be easier to drive if I didn’t get the running commentary.’ He shot her a look. ‘Just saying.’
Sam felt momentarily crushed. ‘If that’s what you want,’ she replied coldly.
Finally they got through the town and out onto the open highway and could really begin to motor. Once they moved past thirty miles per hour the Land Rover engine gave out the familiar high-pitched whine and Blake settled himself into his seat, his arm resting on the vehicle’s side, steering with one hand. With her driver looking more relaxed Sam felt the tension leach out of her shoulders. There was still plenty to look at: farm animals wandering into the road; donkey carts ambling along; motorcycles with teetering piles of trade goods bound for the local market, or just far too many passengers; and now and again a dik-dik hurtled across the road in front of them, or a flock of bright birds flashed through the nearby trees. But best of all, dominating the right-hand horizon, was the vast majesty of Mount Kenya, with its fist of rugged rock, punching into the sky. Sam thought she could make out some snow on it.
