Escaping The Shadows Anthology: Shenanigans'19 @ The West Midlands Book Signing.

by Maria Lazarou

  An image of a tall, slender woman with long black hair and tanned skin penetrated his gloomy thoughts. Pat, she had called herself. She was the only positive thing that had come out of today. He would find out her address and send her a bouquet of flowers; show her he was a gentleman, not the taciturn ill-mannered yob he had appeared to be.

  He fell asleep on the sofa but dragged himself to his bed in the early hours of the morning. He slept badly but didn’t go to the doctors as he had promised the woman. What could they do? He needed rest and peace and his mind would sort itself out.

  Chapter Four.

  “You did right to come to me, Tom.” The Doc leant against his desk, a puzzled look on his face.

  “I was worried what he might do to someone after that fracas at the pub.”

  “Normally Josh is one of the most self-contained, controlled men you have ever met. To punch someone was totally out of character. He wasn’t even provoked.”

  “I heard a guy picked a fight with him a week ago and he nearly garrotted him. The old Josh would have walked away.

  “It was the look of anger on his face that worried me. He seemed as if he was looking for a fight.”

  “It is a sign of PTSD but he clearly hasn’t identified it. He didn’t talk about the incident yesterday with you?”

  “Not a word. I went to his flat uninvited but he blanked me out and said he would come here today.”

  “Typical. He would never confront unless it was necessary or his back was to the wall. That is one of his tactics. He never got into fights at school although he could have beaten the life out of most of the boys with his build and height. He would walk away. Very few of the lads would take him on after the martial arts classes his dad sent him to.”

  “What should I do?”

  “If he won’t discuss his problems, all you can do is keep an eye on him. If you can send him to me on any pretext, I may talk to him. He knows I can empathise having been in Iraq and Afghanistan myself. Will he leave the military?”

  “He always seemed to like the life and has never had a real life outside the army. No permanent girlfriend, only a few good friends; he is the worst type to suffer from this disorder, a loner without a strong support mechanism.”

  “His mum and dad are of no use. His dad is as stiff as poker, one of the old school. Men like him don’t admit they hurt. They just suffer and internalise their feelings.

  His mum is sweet, but totally under the thumb of the old man. No hope of any help there. Just try to get him here.”

  Chapter Five.

  Pat woke up suddenly. She had taken a while to get off to sleep, her mind going over last night’s events. She’d bet Josh would not go to the doctor, a proud and self-reliant man, he would try to forget what happened. She knew about his family. He had chosen when quite young to enlist. He had never stayed with his mother and father during his furloughs, preferring to doss on a mate’s couch until he could afford to rent a flat. He made courtesy visits to his mom and dad but rarely socialised with them. He had gone out with his younger brother in the past but stopped since the fracas in the pub.

  She had seen him at the rugby club. His eyes had followed her as if liking what he saw but he had not come over to her. Then that fracas had occurred. She had seen a different man; a man whose behaviour repelled her; a dangerous man whose violence could kill if unleashed.

  Then there had been that incident during the firework display. He had been detached and cold; unfriendly at first. She had thought he was hard and robotic but then he had apologised. His smile had lit up his face, making him seem more human. There was something beyond that detached exterior he wore as armour. Someone needed to melt that frosty façade and find the real man hiding behind it.

  She shook her head. Not her. She’d had enough of military men. Her experience with Brian her ex-fiancé had ensured that. She was now a fully qualified vet. She was financially independent with a good salary and her own business. She had no need to depend on unreliable men.

  She had heard Josh had been injured in an explosion and had been sent to the hospital and then home. His leave was nearly up. He hadn’t told anyone his plans but she thought he was not ready to go back to a war zone.

  The next day a big bunch of roses arrived on the doorstep of the little flat she shared with a friend.

  “Thanks for your help Saturday, Josh.”

  It was followed up a few days later with a call.

  After the usual courtesies, he asked, “I wondered if you would have dinner with me. It is your choice where we go? I’d like to thank you personally for the help you gave me.”

  She was flummoxed. His coldness and detachment that night had convinced her he resented her interference and wanted her out of his life. Now he was Prince Charming. She steeled herself. If he worked in any other occupation she would have been interested.

  He was handsome, well-spoken, dressed well and could be charming and polite, but she had heard of people attaching themselves to others. Who had helped them in difficult situations. How could she get out of this meal? She had to be tactful.

  “That is very kind of you but I have a boyfriend and he is quite jealous if I meet men without him. We have only just started going out together and he doesn’t know me well yet.”

  “Oh.” There was a pause. “It was only to thank you.” She interrupted him. “The flowers are sufficient. They are beautiful. Thanks.” She paused and he broke off the uneasy silence.

  “Oh well. I may see you in the pub one day. Bye.” She felt guilty. She had not handled that well. She had jumped the gun; perhaps, he was a gentleman and wanted only to thank her.

  Josh put the phone down. He was pissed off. His head hurt when he watched tv or read his car and sporting magazines. He didn’t want male company; to suffer the well-meaning but tactless jokes and questions about when he was going back. She had seemed nice, un-judgemental and happy, the type of company he needed. He didn’t believe all that bullshit about a boyfriend. As far as he knew she was unattached.

  He didn’t blame her. After that exhibition at the firework display, she must think he was a nutter. What normal guy dived under a table when he heard bangs? He could barely remember any of it. His friend had filled in the gaps when he had called on him to ask how he was. He guessed it must have something to with the explosion. His mind must be playing tricks. He would talk to the medics when he went back to base.

  He didn’t want to visit his family. He had gone to his parents for Sunday lunch. His dad had interrogated him as usual in his dictatorial way.

  “When do you go back to base? You must need to start training again after your spell in hospital.”

  “I don’t know what they want me to do, Dad. I just go back to base and have a medical again.”

  “They passed you fit to come home, didn’t they?”

  “Yes Dad, but they want to make sure I am emotionally fit after the bomb.”

  “All this trauma bullshit, I suppose. Psycho-babble, all of it,” grumbled his dad. “A good fight is what you need. Get the adrenalin working again.”

  “Yes Dad.” He got up before he opened his mouth and told his father what was really on his mind. His dad had no idea what he and his mates had suffered. He had served in Northern Ireland and the Falklands but had retired and owned his farm and lucrative business now. He was out of touch. He didn’t want to hear about the dust, heat and indiscriminate killing of women and children if they disobeyed the rules of the tyrannical Taleban.

  His head pounding, he had to get out. He kissed his mum and explained, “I have to do some paperwork to send to base tomorrow.”

  His eyes were almost closed with pain. He felt on fire, burning up from inside but when he got to his car, he felt deathly cold and shivered. He couldn’t drive with eyes like these. He opened the window and breathed in cold air until his body calmed down and his vision cleared.

  For the first time, he felt scared. He could have grabbed his
father by the throat and throttled him. He had nearly lost control; he who never flapped or lost his temper. And then those guys in the pub and the rugby club; he could easily have killed them if others hadn’t intervened.

  He was a trained killing machine but he had to question his capability in military operations, if he could not contain his temper and thus his violence for use at the appropriate time. Loose cannons were not wanted in the army. Planning and controlled aggression were the hallmarks of a successful operation.

  Perhaps that woman had recognised in him what he would not admit to until now; the explosion and his injury had turned him into a different man, an emotional, temperamental man, easily angered when his short fuse was lit. He was a risk to society and that scared him. He had to do something about it.

  He booked an appointment with the doctor. He could talk to him. He was a vet himself and had served in Helmand Province, sharing the same memories of the horrors Josh had seen. He would understand.

  Chapter Six.

  “Sit down. What can I do for you?”

  The doc had given Josh a double appointment, knowing if he started to talk, he wouldn’t want to stop.

  “I have had bad headaches over the last two weeks. I obviously had headaches after the explosion, but they diminished and these suddenly started when I came home. You must have heard about the firework display.”

  A nod confirmed he had.

  “I thought I was back in the war zone and made a fool of myself. I can’t remember much of what went on but I know I thought I was still on duty.”

  “Then there was that bloke in the pub. He only touched me and I lost my rag. In the rugby club, I couldn’t walk away when someone accused me of deserting my mate who had died. I nearly throttled my father yesterday when he went on one of his rants. I had to get out. I have lost control over my emotions.

  “Did these rages come on after you were hurt in the bombing?”

  “No. I nearly belted a soldier who got in my face a few weeks before in the mess but after the explosion, I felt nothing. Absolutely nothing until two weeks ago, when the nightmares started. I can honestly say I was disturbed when my mate died but I felt nothing inside, just detached, as if I had not experienced the bomb but was looking in through a window at a scene being played out. I can hardly remember anything about the incident. My fellow officers told me what had happened.”

  “You realise you may be suffering from PTSD,” ventured the doc.

  “I didn’t but now I think I might be.”

  “When are you going back to base?”

  “I am supposed to be going back next week for the medical.”

  “I think you should ring them and tell them the truth and ask to see a professional psychologist whilst you are there. If they send you back here, I know an excellent psychiatrist who was in the army and understands the problems we soldiers suffer after serving in the war zones.”

  Josh looked sick. He was retreating inside himself; telling a complete stranger about his nightmares and fears scared the shit out of him.

  “You won’t be any good if they send you back. If you flip and cannot concentrate or make rational decisions you may get someone killed.”

  Josh put his head down between his knees and breathed deeply.

  “Anything wrong at the moment?’ ’

  All the colour had gone out of his patient’s face. This was a stressful situation in itself for a usually self-reliant detached man like this bloke. Admitting he no longer had control over his emotions was as good as stating he was like a child.

  “I have a headache brewing. It is pounding. When I talked about going back, I felt like I was burning up and I feel sick.”

  “How often do you get these headaches?”

  “Nearly every morning.”

  “It is your choice. I don’t think you are fit to go back to fight. What do you want to do?”

  “I have to talk to the medic and to get an extension of my leave. I will go back to camp but ask to come home and use your colleague.”

  “Would it be easier being treated at the base?” He knew Josh’s family would not help him. Pressure from his dad, in fact, might push him over the edge. Josh shook his head.

  “I don’t want to explain everything to my mates and fellow officers. I would feel bad seeing them going back and not being able to join and help them. It was also noisy at base. I need to be somewhere quiet. My flat is silent. Few of the owners live there during the week so I can get the peace I want.”

  “Have you ever felt like committing suicide? It is relevant. Many soldiers do when they have lost their mates.”

  “No, not yet but I have felt racked with guilt. That is why I nearly pulverised that wanker at the rugby club when he asked me why my mate died but I came back alive.”

  “Well, I will email your medic at base and say you need more leave. Call me to arrange an appointment with the psychiatrist.”

  “You can arrange it for next weekend. I am unlikely to be sent abroad soon and can easily come home at short notice.”

  “I’ll take the train on this occasion. The medic will give me advice about the precautions I should take. I just don’t want to be dosed up and sleepy.”

  “That is understandable. I felt the same when I suffered shock and mild PTSD. I needed to talk with someone who had gone through the same experience, more than medicine, but drugs may enable you to get the sleep you need to calm your mind temporarily. Not for too long or addiction can set in.”

  Josh got up. He shook the doc’s hand relieved. He hadn’t known the doc was a sufferer of PTSD. He always looked so together. There was hope if he could cope with this devastating syndrome which was taking away his self-control. He had until the rest of the week to rest before going back to base. He had always enjoyed going back, not to face a new conflict but to meet his mates again. As the advert said, ‘they were family,’ more than his birth family her

  His father and other brothers were like the stereotypical officers one used to see on posters during the first world war; hard, stiff upper lipped automatons who thought feelings should be hidden. Cold hard bastards who cared little except for getting a job done. Hearts and minds were alien to that bunch and he tried to avoid meeting them except on duty visits.

  He made a quick phone call to base and a medical was set up. His commanding officer supported him having extra leave providing the medic backed his story up. His war record showed him to be an officer always at the front, volunteering for the most dangerous jobs if he was the man best equipped to do the task.

  Within a week he had convinced the quacks he needed help and extra time and was back home. He rang the doc. “Leave is cleared for an extra two weeks I can make the appointment you set up for me with the shrink.”

  “Brilliant. Best of luck, Mate. You

  “I am thinking about it. Not sure. I’ve enjoyed my years but it may be the right time to quit now we are pulling out. I’ve been thinking about alternative careers for a while before the body starts to tell me I am getting too old for this lark.”

  “You could always do something else in the army. Anyway, make up your mind when your mind is straight again.”

  “Doc, I need your advice. Some information about the woman who helped me when I crawled under the table. Pat is her name.”

  “You interested?”

  “A little. She seemed a nice happy gal. Someone who would be good company. What do you know about her?”

  “Only don’t contact her if you want a short fling. She is no camp follower. She is a vet and works in a clinic in town.”

  “I sent her flowers and asked her to dinner but she rebuffed me.”

  “Romeo getting rejected? Feeling indignant?”

  “Something like that. She was pleasant to me when I first called her but went cold as ice when I asked her to dinner.”

  She doesn’t go out with service-men. Something to do with a man in her past. I wouldn’t let it bother you
if I were you. I have never known her date a military man since she came back from uni. And don’t view her as a challenge, Mate. She is popular around here and if you hurt her you will not be forgiven easily. Back off.”

  “Thanks Doc. Will tell you how I get along with your associate.”

  Stubborn bastard. He was not cruel but his charm hid a detached manner which sometimes made a girl think he was more committed than he was. He had broken a few hearts unintentionally when he went back to base in the past.

  Chapter Seven.

  So, she was a vet. Animals might be a way to her heart. He was not used to being rebuffed. He could usually charm the birds off the trees. He didn’t want to hurt her but he had liked her. She seemed calm and straight-talking, attributes he appreciated in a woman.

  So many of the women at the base were always trying to attract a husband that they put on a false act to reel a man in. He could hardly blame them; opportunities were limited in this town, the work mainly rural, factory and hotel work; low paid with little future. Army men earned decent money with subsidized accommodation, a good bet for a girl with few qualifications.

  His own village was similar, being a commuter area servicing the base twenty miles away. The class division was still strict; the landed gentry, senior managers and businessmen attending social events at the one and only country club where golf membership was allocated according to who one knew rather than one’s handicap. The rest of the villagers sought their entertainment in the pubs and social clubs and the rugby club where anyone could go.

  He didn’t want to go to the pubs. He would not be welcome in at least one. A quiet dinner in a restaurant in a local town would do him, somewhere nice and not too rowdy in case his head played up again. He was soon going to the shrink who might be able to provide answers. He would drop another bunch of flowers in the vets and try to ring again. He was a persistent devil, stubbornness being his main strength and weakness. He had to learn to let go.