Civvy Street (12 page)

‘So,’ said Seb, ‘moving on. How would you cope if the staff complained to you about abuse from a mess member?’

Susie considered this for a moment. ‘First, I would want to find out if there were any witnesses and I would gather any evidence I could, whether it supported or refuted the claim. Then I would come to you.’

Seb nodded. Textbook answer, in his opinion.

‘And how,’ said the admin officer, ‘given that you are friends with the officers, would you address them?’

‘I would call them sir or ma’am, just as Sergeant McManners does now, and I would expect them to call me Mrs Collins, just as we all call Sergeant McManners, Sergeant McManners. I wouldn’t dream of letting things slip in that department. Besides, in a few years the people who live in the mess will have changed, there’ll be a new crop of junior, single officers and my past will become irrelevant.’

‘Good point,’ said Seb. ‘Now then, catering. Your application says you have experience.’

Susie explained about the small catering business that she’d run. ‘I understand how to put together interesting and innovative menus, I can do economical as well as elaborate and I can cater to a budget.’

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the RAO nod in approval. Seb thought it mightn’t be as tricky as he’d first thought to get the other board members to agree about Susie’s suitability for the job.

After a few more questions, Susie was shown out of the room and left Seb and his colleagues to their deliberations.

‘So,’ said Seb, ‘thoughts?’

As he expected they agreed with him that Susie was possibly the strongest candidate but they were all adamant that the fact she was a major’s wife was a real sticking point.

‘But, as Mrs Collins herself pointed out, in a few years no one will know or care.’

Sergeant McManners wasn’t to be swayed but Seb was pretty sure he had the other two onside.

‘Let’s vote. Those in favour of employing Mrs Collins...’

He put his own hand up and the admin officer followed suit and after an agonising couple of seconds, so did the mess secretary.

‘Sorry, Sergeant McManners,’ said Seb.

‘It’s no skin off my nose,’ he said cheerfully. ‘I’m out of here, remember. By the time Mrs Collins is properly in post I’ll be running my own little pub in Wales.’

‘You’re all sorted, then, Sergeant?’

‘Oh yes, sir. The army did me a big favour when it decided to have done with me. I’m not complaining. I know there’s plenty who aren’t happy but I’m not one of them.’

Unlike the Collinses. Although, thought Seb, he hoped that now Susie had got the job she wanted, things might be looking up for them.

*

‘You could at least look pleased,’ said Susie.

Mike shook his head. ‘It’s not right.’

‘Mike, whether it’s
right
or not is irrelevant. It’s a
job
. We can get a mortgage now, we can buy that house.’

‘But I don’t want that house.’

Susie banged the kitchen table with the flat of her hand. ‘We don’t have a choice.’

Mike glared at her. ‘So rub it in, why don’t you? Rub it in that this is all my fault.’ His voice got louder. ‘I’m the one to blame, I’m the one who is going to be on the dole and,’ he was shouting now, ‘I’m the one with the fucking awful credit rating.’

‘I didn’t say that,’ Susie shouted back at him.

‘You didn’t have to.’

The doorbell rang.

The pair stared at each other across the table, like two cats about to fight. ‘I’ll go and see who it is,’ said Susie.

It was Maddy with a bunch of flowers. ‘Is this a bad time?’

Had she heard the row? wondered Susie. Given how jerry-built these quarters were it was quite likely. Still, never complain, never explain, as Disraeli had once said. She smiled and shook her head.

‘Seb’s just got home from work and told me the news,’ continued Maddy. ‘I am so pleased. Here,’ she said as she thrust the flowers at her neighbour. ‘To say congratulations.’

‘Thanks. It’s quite a relief.’

‘Let’s hope it means your luck is getting better.’

‘It can’t get any worse.’

‘No... well. Anyway, I just wanted to give you the flowers.’

Maddy turned and went back to her own house as Susie shut the door.

‘At least Maddy is pleased for me,’ she said to Mike as she found a vase and put her flowers in water.

‘She isn’t being viewed as a total dead loss though, is she? Not like me.’

‘And feeling sorry for yourself isn’t going to make things better.’

Mike stared at her. ‘No? You apply for one job – one miserable job – and you waltz straight into it and I... how many applications? Dozens? Scores? And I’ve had three interviews. And don’t tell me that these things take time or any other crap platitudes. We both know it’s because I’m not good enough.’ He got up and stormed out.

Susie watched him bleakly as he slammed the front door behind him. Should she have stopped him? Should she have handled things differently? She pulled out a chair and slumped down onto it. God, she wanted a drink.

Mike stormed through the patch, angry with the world, angry with Susie and angry with himself. If only... if only... But wishing things were different wasn’t going to alter anything. Whatever Susie had said the other night he knew he’d fucked up somewhere along the line and now he was paying for it. Along with his family. He couldn’t bear the idea that they were going to have to live on that tip of an estate in that appalling house. The place was a dump. It didn’t matter that the village centre was pretty, because where they were going to live was anything but. And he dreaded to think what the neighbours were going to be like – out-of-work layabouts with addiction issues. The irony of his assessment wasn’t lost on him. He was going to be out of work and he’d had his own battles with drink in the past... but he was an army officer. He wasn’t exactly a contender for
The Jeremy Kyle Show
.

His mind roamed over and over the general unfairness of life as his footsteps took him through the patch and towards the barracks. When he looked up and took note of his surroundings he realised he was walking towards the mess. He
knew
he should keep on going, he
knew
that he shouldn’t go in, but what the hell? His life was in such a shit state it couldn’t get any worse. Besides, one drink wouldn’t hurt.

He walked into the bar where many of the living-in members were enjoying a post-work-pre-supper drink.

‘Hi, Mike,’ said a number of them as they saw him.

‘Hi,’ he returned. ‘Dawkins, get me a large gin, please.’

He ignored the surprised look he got from both the mess barman and the other officers present and he also ignored the subsequent awkward silence.

Dawkins pushed a mess chit and pencil over with the drink so Mike could sign for it but Mike ignored the slip of paper and grabbed, greedily, for his gin. He took a large slug before he picked up the pencil and scribbled his name.

‘That sort of day, was it, Mike?’ said James.

Mike took another gulp and nodded. ‘Pretty much.’ He drained his drink. ‘Same again, please.’

The officers in the bar exchanged glances and Sam Lewis looked at her watch. She might have arrived since Mike and Susie had both gone on the wagon but she was still aware of their past – pretty much everyone was.

‘Think I might go and grab a quick bath before dinner,’ she said. She put her glass on the bar and disappeared. There were other mutterings and mumblings from the others about things they needed to do or phone calls that couldn’t wait and in another couple of minutes the bar was empty except for Mike and Dawkins.

Mike looked around him. ‘Just call me Mr Popularity.’

‘Sir,’ said Dawkins.

‘It’s all right, Dawkins, you don’t have to stay and talk to me, just because the others have high-tailed it. I imagine they’re thinking that failure is catching – like the flu.’

‘Sir,’ said Dawkins again.

‘But before you go back to your cubbyhole, I’ll have another one. I’ll ring the bell when I want you again.’

‘Sir.’

*

Susie’s phone rang. She stopped mashing the potatoes for a shepherd’s pie and picked up the handset.

‘Susie? It’s James here.’

‘Hi, James,’ said Susie, putting on a cheerful voice. James didn’t need to know how grim things were for her right now. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘Look, this is a bit tricky and I may be out of order but Mike’s in the mess and by the looks of things he’s on a personal mission to see how fast he can get through a bottle of gin.’

Susie shut her eyes and leaned against the counter. Dear God. Just when she thought it couldn’t get worse... ‘Thank you, James. No, you’re not out of order at all, and I’m glad you told me. I’ll come over.’

‘It might be an idea to bring the car. He’s pretty far gone.’

‘Thanks. I’ll be there as soon as I can.’

Susie grabbed the car keys and raced out of the house. Part of her wanted to cry and the other part of her was seething with anger. How could he? How
could
he? Like getting shit-faced was going to make anything better. Barely checking the mirror and before doing up her seatbelt, Susie backed the car out of the drive and then scorched up the road towards the mess. Breaking the rule about not parking near a building, left over from IRA car-bombing days, she abandoned her vehicle bang in front of the entrance and raced up the steps. James was waiting for her.

‘How bad is he?’

James raised his eyebrows.

‘That bad, eh?’

James nodded. ‘He had two doubles in short order before I left the bar to do some admin. When I got back he was still drinking and I don’t think he’s slowed up any.’

‘OK,’ said Susie. ‘Let’s get him home while he can still walk to the car.’

She went into the bar. ‘Come on, Mike,’ she said quietly. ‘Supper’s almost ready.’

‘Shusie,’ Mike slurred. ‘Wha’ you doin’ here?’ His face was flushed and his eyes were bleary. ‘You fanshy a drink too?’ He waved his glass at her, slopping the gin over the side.

‘No thanks, Mike.’

‘Go on. Don’t be such a shpoilsport.’

‘I just think it’s time you came home.’

‘Why?’

‘Because you’ve had enough,’ said Susie.

‘Of coursh I’ve had enough. I’ve had enough of you, I’ve had enough of not getting a job, of being on the fucking wagon...’ He waved his glass around again and spilt gin over James’s sleeve.

‘That’s enough, Mike.’

Mike leaned towards Susie. ‘Don’t you tell me what to do.’ He prodded a finger at her. ‘Jusht because you’re so bloody clever and you got a job, doesn’t mean you wear the trousers now.’

‘Mike... come on,’ Susie pleaded.

‘Do as Susie says,’ said James. ‘You’re drunk.’

‘Yeah, and so would you be in my position.’

‘Maybe, but we both know it doesn’t help matters. Time to go home, Mike.’

‘I tried being shober,’ said Mike. ‘Look where it got me.’ He lurched off his bar stool. ‘I know you don’t want me here. I’m an embarrassment. A drunk and a no-hoper.’ His eyes filled with maudlin tears.

‘Come on, Mike,’ said Susie, gently. ‘The car’s outside.’

Mike allowed himself to be led away. He and Susie got as far as the entrance hall when he stumbled and sagged. He was a dead weight and Susie could just about support him but she couldn’t propel him forwards and getting him down the steps and into the car was going to be impossible. Once again, James came to her rescue. Taking the bulk of Mike’s weight he was able to help get him out to the car and then hold Mike up while Susie got the passenger door open. James bundled and folded Mike into the front seat and then got in the back.

‘You don’t have to, James,’ said Susie, squirming with embarrassment at the situation.

‘And how are you going to get him out again and back into the house?’

Susie looked at him and sighed. He was right, of course.

‘Thanks,’ she said as she got in and started the engine. She drove the few hundred yards back to her quarter. ‘Thank God the kids aren’t home,’ she muttered as she went to open the front door.

James managed to haul Mike out of the car again and between them the pair managed to half drag, half carry Mike indoors. He was not completely out of it – he was just conscious enough to mumble incoherent words now and again but he didn’t seem to have a clue about what his surroundings were or what he was doing. They managed to get him as far as the sofa in the sitting room and into the recovery position. Wordlessly, Susie went to the kitchen and returned with the washing up bowl which she placed on the floor beside him. James had wedged Mike with cushions to stop him rolling onto his back and had loosened his collar.

‘Thanks, James. I owe you.’

‘Any friend would have done the same.’

‘Maybe.’ She looked at the floor. ‘James, can I ask you another huge favour? Can I ask you to have a word to any witnesses and ask them to be discreet? Things are bad enough without...’

‘Without this being the hot topic of the day?’

Susie nodded. ‘We all know what the mess and the patch can be like.’

‘Consider it done. And if it’s any consolation, Dawkins is the soul of discretion. I dread to think what he’s witnessed in his years as the mess bar steward and I’ve never known him say a word.’

Susie felt huge relief. It would be bad enough if all the officers knew about Mike’s bender but if the soldiers did too... Not that it really mattered, as they would soon be out of that world altogether.

*

James returned to the bar and to judge by the sudden silence as he walked in the topic of conversation had probably been exactly as Susie had feared. The mess members, having fled rather than witness the embarrassing scene, seemed only too happy to pick over the bones of it now the source of their discomfort had gone.

James passed on Susie’s request. ‘And,’ he said, turning to Dawkins, ‘I know I don’t need to say anything to you.’

‘Sir,’ said Dawkins by way of acknowledgement.

‘You probably know where more bodies are buried than the gravedigger at Highgate Cemetery.’

‘Sir.’ Dawkins chest swelled.

‘Of course we won’t say anything,’ said Sam. ‘Not to anyone who wasn’t here.’