by Fortin, Sue
What did she fancy? Now there was a question. For the briefest of moments, she relived the kiss they had shared back at Rochefort-en-Terre. There was her answer. She looked at Will standing in the doorway, the dark curls of his hair a tumbled mess, yet somehow totally cool and sexy. His dark eyes locked on to hers. She saw him heave a deep breath in, his chest swelled and then he let it out, slow and controlled.
‘What do I fancy?’ she said, almost to herself.
Will swallowed hard. ‘To eat, Marcie,’ he said. ‘What do you fancy to eat for tea?’
Marcie snapped out of her trance, aware she had been openly staring at him, taking in every inch of his face and body. She needed to get a grip of herself. ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ she said. ‘Surprise me.’ She gave a smile, broader than necessary as she tried to shrug off the memory of Will’s kiss.
‘Surprise you?’ said Will. ‘Your wish is my command.’ Picking up the car keys from the table he left Marcie standing in the kitchen, once more cringing to herself. She was sure there was a hint of a smile as he left.
It didn’t take long to get the fire going, a few weeks at The Retreat and Marcie was becoming quite a dab hand at rural living. The more time she spent here, the less she missed living in the UK. The French life was definitely beginning to seduce her. She could see how Ben and Lisa had fallen in love with it. A simple, uncomplicated life just simply being.
The urge to play her flute swept over her. Marcie checked her watch. Will wouldn’t be too long but she had enough time to play a couple of tunes. The black case was on the window sill where she had left it that morning in her hurry to get ready. Quickly, she put the three pieces together and lifting it to her mouth, she took a breath and began playing.
She began with her favourite Edelweiss and after playing it twice, she went straight into Beethoven’s Für Elise. Her fingers took on a life of their own as they found the notes automatically. Marcie let the music seep into her subconscious as her whole being became at one with the sound.
As she neared the end of the tune, her fingers fumbled the last few notes and she was out of the zone immediately. It had been a long time since she had totally immersed herself like that, it was nice to know she could still do it.
A movement in her peripheral vision made her look towards the window as a shadow moved across the glass. A face looked in at her. She jumped back but almost immediately realised the person looking in was, in fact, her reflection.
‘Stupid woman,’ she said out loud. ‘Getting jumpy at the slightest thing now.’
Putting the flute back in the case, Marcie drew the curtains and switched the television on. It was all in French, but she didn’t care, the sound of another human’s voice was reassuring. She hoped Will would be back soon.
Chapter Five
Marcie checked her watch yet again. Will had been gone for nearly an hour and a half now. It didn’t take that long to nip down to the village and collect a few groceries. She couldn’t even phone him as, up until this point, she had never had any need for his number.
‘Where do you think he’s got to?’ said Marcie to Poppy who was stretched out in front of the fire. Poppy’s ear twitched and one eye opened before she went back to sleep.
Marcie turned the television down and listened for any sound of the car approaching but there was an audible silence from outside. She was tempted to peek through the drawn curtains to see if she could spot any headlights coming up the track but at the last minute she had chickened out. She knew her imagination was getting the better of her and cursed herself for ever watching a horror film. It was all coming back to haunt her now. Literally. The stories of the local ghost came to the front of her mind. What if there was some truth in it? After all, what was that saying about no smoke without fire?
Marcie froze at an indistinguishable noise outside the window. It was some sort of movement, she was sure. She listened hard but couldn’t hear it again. Standing up, she went to the front door and checked it was locked and bolted. She repeated the check with the back door.
Where the hell was Will? Her thoughts were momentarily side tracked from ghosts as she played out the possible scenarios that could be keeping Will. They ranged from the shops being closed to Will deciding to stop at one of the bars for a drink. Surely he wouldn’t just abandon her though. He would call if there was something wrong. She checked the house phone, picking it up to make sure there was a dial tone and no message left on the answerphone.
Poppy suddenly lifted her head, her ears pricked up and then the little dog jumped to her feet. She stared at the window, her head cocked to one side. Marcie could hear the scrunching of the gravel outside but it wasn’t car tyres. It was heavy footsteps. Poppy gave a small whine and trotted over to the front door where she began sniffing at the floor.
The footsteps came to a halt outside the door. Marcie didn’t dare move. Her heart was hammering wildly against her chest.
The door handle rattled, followed by a thump of a fist against the wood. Marcie moved backwards into the kitchen, grabbing a knife from the block.
‘Marcie! Open the door.’
Marcie let out a long breath, her shoulders sagging in relief. She rushed to the door. ‘Will, is that you?’
‘Of course it is,’ came the reply. ‘Any chance of opening the sodding door? It’s not Check Point Charlie, you know.’
Marcie slid the bolts back and unlocked the door, stepping to one side to allow Will in. He came into the kitchen and dumped two shopping bags on the oak table. He turned round to look at Marcie and did a double take. He nodded towards the knife still in her hand. ‘Care to explain?’
Marcie forgot she was still holding the carving knife. ‘Ah, yes. Sorry.’ Closing the door she came back into the kitchen and slid the knife into the block.
‘Get a bit jumpy?’ said Will.
‘No. Well, maybe. Just a little,’ said Marcie. Will wasn’t quick enough turning away to stop her seeing the grin on his face.
‘I don’t think knives have much effect on ghosts,’ said Will as he unpacked the bags, placing the items on the table.
‘It wasn’t that,’ said Marcie. ‘I didn’t know where you’d gone and I heard some noises outside. I thought I saw someone at the window.’ God, it sounded so lame and irrational when she said it out loud. She changed the subject. ‘Anyway, where did you get to?’
‘Flat tyre,’ said Will. ‘I couldn’t call. The signal is rubbish round here. I’ll have to go down to the village in the morning to change the tyre. Couldn’t see a thing in the dark.’ Will pulled a bottle of wine from the bag. ‘Fancy a glass? Might calm your nerves.’ He winked at her.
‘My nerves are fine, thank you,’ said Marcie attempting to sound indignant but failing. She couldn’t help smiling; she knew he was teasing her again.
‘So, you won’t want any, then,’ said Will rummaging in the drawer for a bottle opening.
‘I didn’t say that,’ said Marcie. She took the bottle from him. ‘Here, let me.’ She pulled the plastic top from the neck of the bottle and then twisted the cap open. ‘Screw top,’ she said, throwing Will a smug look.
Will muttered something about a lack of finesse as he took two glasses from the cupboard and poured the wine. ‘Cheers,’ he said, chinking glasses with her. ‘Right, you can be my sous chef and start peeling those spuds. On tonight’s menu we have steak and chips.’
It was an enjoyable and relaxed meal. They chatted generally about food, what they liked and disliked, swapped recipe disaster stories and Will made Marcie wince at some of the dried packet foods he had endured during his Army days.
‘Honestly, you wouldn’t feed your dog some of the stuff we had to eat,’ said Will as they cleared the plates away. ‘One night, we had run out of supplies, so me and a couple of the lads from the unit ended up scavenging the left overs of someone’s picnic they had been kind enough to leave behind.’
‘Sounds disgusting,’ said Marcie. ‘Although, it’s sad to think that some people have
to do that every day. You know, homeless people.’
‘You can bet some of those homeless are ex-servicemen too,’ said Will, his voice growing serious. He closed the door on the dishwasher and picking up the bottle of wine, shared the last drop between their glasses. ‘I need a sit down.’
Marcie followed him into the living room. ‘I must admit, I never thought of it like that,’ she said. ‘That the homeless might be ex-servicemen.’
‘Doesn’t sit easy with your thoughts on the Army and war, I suppose,’ said Will.
She could hear the niggle in his voice and aware of her own embarrassment. He was right. She hadn’t connected the two before. ‘All the more reason not to join up,’ she said.
‘Honestly, Marcie, you’re so narrow minded at times,’ said Will. ‘Yeah, it doesn’t end well for some of the lads but for some of them, a lot of them, the Army is their saviour. They haven’t got anything else. It might be no home life, no qualifications, no job prospects, no future. It might be one of those things, some of them or all of them, plus a whole load more. Joining the Army gives them a sense of belonging and purpose, a roof over their heads, life experience, skills and qualifications that they can take with them into Civvy Street eventually. They don’t all end up on the street.’
Marcie felt suitable admonished. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you. I find it hard to see anything good in the Army.’
‘No, it’s not that. You’re confusing the Army with war. Both the same, yet different things,’ said Will. ‘You don’t like war. You don’t like the fighting and the killing. Don’t confuse that with the good stuff that comes out of being in the Army.’
Will sat down on the sofa, stretching out his legs in front of him. He rested back against the cushions and winced slightly as he did so. He shifted position and rubbed at his shoulder and upper arm.
‘You okay?’ said Marcie.
‘Dodgy arm,’ said Will. ‘I’ll live.’ His voice lacked any warmth, he was clearly annoyed with her. Marcie was surprised at how upset this made her feel.
‘I am sorry,’ she said. ‘I’d never thought of the Army the way you explained.’ She turned to leave, thinking Will would probably be best left alone but was surprised when he called her back.
‘Don’t go,’ he said. He patted the cushion next to him. ‘Come and sit down. I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s been a long day. I’m sorry.’
Marcie’s heart gave a tiny flip of relief and she graciously accepted him apology. ‘Is your arm really all right?’ she said sitting down next to him.
‘It’s just a bit sore this evening,’ said Will. ‘It gets like that from time to time. Probably didn’t help attempting to change that tyre in the dark. I’ll sort it out tomorrow, though.’ He rotated his shoulder.
‘What happened?’ asked Marcie gently. ‘To your shoulder.’
Will didn’t answer immediately. He pursed his lips and ran his hand through his hair. Marcie waited, giving him time to get his thoughts together. ‘IED,’ he said eventually. ‘Improvised Explosive Device. Roadside bomb.’
‘Was it bad?’ She rested her hand on his shoulder.
‘Not for me,’ said Will. ‘I was on the edge. I caught a bit of crap in my upper arm. Not everyone was so lucky.’ He drummed his fingers on his thigh. Marcie sensed it wasn’t a subject he liked talking about. In the few weeks she had been at The Retreat, she’d practically had to drag any personal information out of Will. She slid her hand down his arm and over his hand. His fingers stilled and then he moved his hand on top of hers.
Slowly he guided the tips of her fingers to his arm. She could feel the smoothness of his skin through the fabric of his long sleeved tee-shirt but as she reached higher, the texture beneath changed. There was a coarseness to the skin, it was rippled and dipped away like a scoop had been taken from his bicep, leaving lumps and bumps in its place.
Her automatic response was to whip her hand away, but she managed to resist. She met Will’s eyes, forcing herself to relax her hand. He was testing her for some reason. Was he trying to shock her? Revolt her? She didn’t know. She felt the pressure of Will’s hand lift but she kept her own there on his arm. Very gently, her fingers strobed the damaged area which extended to the front of his shoulder. After a moment Will took her hand away and lifting it to his lips, kissed the tips of her fingers.
Marcie could hear her breathing quicken. The atmosphere in the room was intense. He had let her into his private world. The one he had left behind yet still carried with him in the dark corners of his mind. She didn’t care about his past. What he had done. She didn’t know that Will. She knew the Will that was here in front of her.
Still holding hands, Marcie brought his hand to her mouth and returned the gesture. She paused for a moment, their eyes still locked on one another. ‘Let’s just live for the moment,’ she said. ‘Life’s too short.’
Will kissed her. It was the only confirmation she needed as she laid back down on the sofa, pulling him with her. Somehow they managed to discard their clothing with relative ease and Marcie was grateful for the oversized sofa with its deep welcoming cushions.
She ran her hand along Will’s bare chest until she reached his shoulder. She felt his chest tense and the muscle in his arm flex. ‘It’s okay,’ she said as she sought out the ragged scar. She looked at the crumpled skin that covered his shoulder and crept down to this upper arm where it turned into a creator, roughly the size of a serving spoon. ‘It’s part of you. It’s what makes you the person you are. The person I rather like.’ She kissed him on the mouth to stop any protests.
Afterwards, Will held Marcie in a tight embrace as they laid on the sofa. Despite the cold wintery night outside, the fire was doing an excellent job of keeping them warm. There certainly wasn’t any need to rush to put their clothes back on.
Watching the flames flicker and dance as they licked their way around the logs, Will caught sight of their distorted reflection in the copper coal scuttle at the side of the hearth. A distorted reflection of a distorted limb. Usually, women reacted in two ways when they saw his injury; they either recoiled in horror, gasping at the damaged flesh or they were utterly fascinated. The interest was sometimes genuine, other times it was because, for some reason, they felt they were expected to take a deep interest in the wound and offer appropriate platitudes in a bid to show their concern. Either way, their response killed the moment and Will would feel an indifference to the sex that followed.
Marcie, however, had yet again surprised him. He hadn’t missed her slight hesitation initially but she hadn’t tried to over-compensate for it. She had felt, looked and silently considered. A level and measured reaction. She hadn’t made a fuss, she’d just accepted it as part of him.
The sex that followed was different to anything Will had experienced in a long time. Possibly since his last serious girlfriend. With Marcie, it had felt natural and intense, yet tender and loving; he had wanted to give as much, if not more, than he was taking.
‘Do you want anything?’ said Will as Marcie snuggled into him.
‘To stay like this forever,’ said Marcie, her voice heavy with sleep.
‘I’m not sure about forever, but the next few hours are looking good.’
It wasn’t long before he could hear her rhythmic breathing as she drifted off to sleep. Will could feel his own body relaxing and his mind began to wander. Was it too much to ask that he too could slip into an untroubled sleep?
When Will woke, he was aware that he had indeed been asleep. The fire had died down to a glow, the last of the logs burning out. Will checked his watch. It was two in the morning. Marcie was still sleeping soundly but her arms had a slight chill to them. He pulled the throw from the back of the sofa and covered her up. Then, as slowly as he could, so as not to disturb her, Will extracted himself from the sofa and placed another log on the fire. He picked up his clothes and carried them through to the kitchen to dress without waking Marcie. He knew from experience he was wide
awake, his brain was alert and raring to go. There would be no point fighting it. The sleeping tablets he had been prescribed when he first came out of the Army, he had long since discarded. They made him feel groggy and he found it hard to function in the mornings.
Poppy looked up from her basket in the kitchen, her tail wagging expectantly.
‘Want to go out, girl?’ whispered Will, taking his jacket from the peg and putting it on. Poppy hopped out of her bed and trotted over to him, her nails making little click-clack sounds on the tiled floor. ‘Come on, then.’ Will unlocked the back door.
As he walked out into the garden, Poppy scampered on ahead, her nose to the ground, on the trail of a scent. The moon cast its light across the grass. Will looked up at the night sky and the stars scattered like glitter. It was a good night for star gazing and had he been more prepared he would have brought his binoculars with him. Will pushed his hands into his coat pockets and followed the dog out in the blackness of the garden, heading for the fields beyond the outbuildings.
It was the persistent draught tickling the back of her neck which stirred Marcie from her sleep. Through half opened eyes and a sleep fogged brain, she registered the flicker of the flames in the fireplace and briefly questioned why she felt cold, but her mind was resisting being dragged back into consciousness. She pulled the cover higher over her shoulders and snuggled down into the soft cushions of the sofa, allowing her mind to wander as images of Will, his smiling face and injured arm, wove their way back and forth. Will then morphed into a clear image of the young boy she had seen through the window of the wood store. He in the living room, holding her flute, looking directly at her.
Marcie’s eyes burst open and she sat bolt upright. Her mind snapped fully awake. A trickle of sweat navigated its way down her spine as an unpleasant sensation of fear lodged in her stomach.
The draught that had first roused her resurrected itself and looking round the room, Marcie remembered why she was there. She glanced over her shoulder at the sofa and the empty space where Will had been.
