War Torn (47 page)

‘I have. And I’ve decided I should wait until I’ve got my degree. I’ll be a lot more employable then.’

‘How long will that take?’

‘Ummm . . . well as soon as I get back I’ll step up my hours.’

‘What’s the soonest you could finish?’

‘Another few years, probably . . .’

‘Dave! I can’t wait that long.’

‘Those years will flash by. With two young children your hands will be so full that—’

‘They’ll flash by without you! That’s the point! I want to bring up two young children with you, not with a voice on the phone who’s always away training or fighting or crossing minefields!’

‘When we get back from this tour, I might be at home for two whole years.’

‘I’ve heard that one before.’

‘Jenny. Love. I don’t need this pressure. Not now. I didn’t ring you because I want another battle.’

The tone of his voice said that all day, every day he had to be strong. He had to watch his men, correct them, guide them and protect them, he had to make decisions that were fair but firm and the greater the danger, the fiercer the contact, the harder the pressure, then the stronger he had to be. He couldn’t afford to weaken. Ever. Even when he was watching eight of his men in a minefield.

Jenny heard his tone and her anger evaporated.

‘Oh, darling. I’m sorry. I just want you out of there. I don’t want to add to the pressure.’

‘I’m already under a lot, Jen.’

She was quick. ‘Are you in some kind of trouble?’

‘Maybe.’

‘Because you let your men cross a minefield?’

He was indignant. ‘No! For fuck’s sake!’

‘Well, why, then?’

‘Because of something that happened long before today. Soon after we arrived.’

‘Did anyone die?’

‘Not any of our men.’

‘You mean . . . a Tali died?’

‘Yup.’

‘And you’re in trouble?’

‘They’re interviewing me about it this evening. I thought they might wait a bit. Since some of us have had a bad day. But they can’t.’

‘Oh, Dave! Because you killed the enemy!’

‘Yup.’

‘That’s ridiculous!’

‘I think so.’

‘Whatever you did, I know it was right.’ Her anger was redirected now, away from him and onto the army.

‘Thanks, love.’

‘I’ll bet the Taliban don’t start accusing each other of killing the enemy. I’ll bet they wouldn’t hesitate to kill you under any circumstances.’

‘That’s why it’s fucking ludicrous.’

‘But . . .’ She was thinking now. ‘Maybe they’ll throw you out of the army for this. That would make the decision for you!’

‘Don’t say that, Jen. You don’t want me court-martialled, do you?’

It was unbearable to hear him so hurt.

‘Christ, no,’ she said truthfully. ‘They won’t, will they?’

‘They could.’

When the call was over she felt bereft. She loved him. But he had so much to deal with that she could not ask him to share her burdens too. He loved her. And she was on her own.

AGNIESZKA
WAS
WOKEN
BY
LUKE
AND
THE
PHONE
AT
THE
SAME
time. She had been in such a deep sleep that for a moment she wasn’t sure which to grab.

‘Hallo?’

‘Agnieszka, it’s Adi. I’ll be quick, I can hear Luke calling for you. I rang because Jenny said you were worried. Well, something did happen in the night. Everyone’s talking about it. I think our boys found some landmines or something. There are casualties but nothing serious in 1 Section.’

‘Jamie all right?’

‘Fine. So stop worrying.’

But she already done that. Somehow Darrel had managed to persuade her that everything was all right.

Agnieszka looked at the time and started to hurry. She had agreed to meet Darrel for coffee this morning and first she had to sort out Luke and herself, then put on her makeup. Darrel had wanted to take her for lunch, he said, but he couldn’t get away from the garage then so he would sneak out for a coffee instead.

It was one of Luke’s angry, spiky mornings, when he responded to even her lightest touch as though her hands were covered with barbed wire. Finally, with relief, she left him to cry so that she could get ready. She peered in the mirror at her tired face then reached for her makeup bag. She might not be able to repair the dishwasher, TV, car or gutter but she could certainly fix her face.

Of course, there was no reason she needed to look especially
good for Darrel. But the pots and brushes and tubes and pads of colour pleased her. Making up was a form of painting. She used shading to make subtle contours pronounced and with the right brushwork around her eyes they could look huge.

She glanced at her watch. She was going to be late. You couldn’t hurry makeup.

The phone rang and her steady hand, applying eyeliner, wobbled. She swore in Polish, reminded herself to Hail Mary, hesitated. And then answered.

‘Morning, Agnieszka, it’s Jenny.’

If only she hadn’t picked up the phone. If only she hadn’t called Jenny last night. She dealt with her as quickly as she could and then got back to her eyeliner. She was going to be late and Darrel only had thirty minutes.

The phone rang again. She glanced anxiously at her watch. She almost didn’t answer.

‘Hello?’

‘It’s me, Niez.’

‘Jamie!’ She was both pleased and apprehensive. She hoped it wasn’t going to be one of those long calls.

‘I . . . I’ve been hit again.’

‘Hit? Who hit you?’

‘Taliban. Fired at me. It bounced off. I’m just bruised.’

‘It bounce off!’

‘Off my body armour.’

‘Oh, God, Jamie.’ She remembered the Hail Mary she had just promised to do. And now, for a bullet bouncing off body armour, she would offer many more.

‘It’s OK, Niez. I’m OK. There’s just a few moments after it first happens when it seems like you’re going to die. That’s when I thought about you and Luke. Everything around me got sort of brighter. It was strange. The trees and the earth and people’s blood, whatever you’re looking at gets really intense. So did the smells. Maybe that was because I thought I was leaving it all behind. And I wanted you to be in my mind when I died so I thought about your face and it was so, so beautiful . . .’

She had never heard him talk like this before.

‘Jamie . . . you a little bit shocked?’

‘The medic says I’m fine.’

She wanted to ask him about the phone message, demand to know who might have found the cellphone and used it to text her so cruelly. But these satellite calls were monitored. The army actually listened when husbands phoned their wives. She could say nothing.

‘It happened before. I got hit before. And it was worse because it was a machine-gun round. It hit my back, just below the neck. I was on top, looking into some woods. After I felt it, I waited to die and the trees were amazing. Beautiful. I can’t explain it. I’m not explaining it very well, am I, Niez?’

She felt frantic. This was turning into one of Jamie’s long, thoughtful calls. Sometimes he talked and talked and she stopped trying to understand him and just let his voice wash over her.

But there was no time now. Holding the phone with her left hand, she was trying to apply mascara with her right. If she left any later than this there was almost no point in going: Darrel’s break would be over.

‘You explain very well, darling. You sure you OK? Everyone there think you OK?’

‘Babe, I don’t talk to the other lads this way. Or they’d probably think I’m barking. But you understand – don’t you, Niez?’

‘I think so, darling.’

‘You always understand me. That’s one reason I love you so much.’

She took a deep breath. ‘Darling, I have my hair cut today.’

‘Oh, no! Why? Don’t do that!’

‘Just a trim. You won’t see any different when you get back.’

‘All right. A centimetre, no more.’

‘Darling, I have to go now, to hairdresser.’

‘Oh.’ Resignation, disappointment, maybe some pain. Because he had been speaking to her from his heart when she had been worrying about her hair appointment. ‘I could tell you were in a bit of a hurry.’

She said as many Hail Marys in the car as she could between the camp and the city. But she knew that for what she had just done to Jamie she could never say enough.

When they arrived it turned out to be market day. Stalls and
people with shopping bags covered the central parking area. She found another car park and then another. Full. And people were queuing for spaces.

Finally she phoned Darrel. She was so exasperated with the traffic, the people, the screams from the back seat that she wanted to cry herself, except that it would ruin her makeup.

‘We’ll have coffee at the White Lion. You can park there, at the back. See you in ten minutes.’

Darrel really could fix anything.

But when she got to the White Lion, Luke was still screaming. His face was red and wet, his huge mouth bawled. She rocked the buggy helplessly. You couldn’t take a screaming baby into a quiet hotel. Everything, including Jamie’s call and Luke’s shrieks, the traffic and the market stalls, was conspiring to sabotage her meeting with Darrel.

‘All right?’ said Darrel, squeezing between two cars to reach her. He was as casual as if they had last seen each other yesterday, instead of when they had rowed, weeks ago.

She smiled at him. She wanted to stare. In her thoughts there had been a handsome, lean-faced man. Here was someone much more ordinary, wearing a shirt she did not particularly like. What was she doing here, by this hotel in this city with this man? She tried to fit the stranger who stood grinning before her into the frame her memory had woven for him.

He gave her a light kiss on the cheek.

‘I can’t come inside when Luke does screaming.’

‘Can I pick him up?’

Agnieszka shook her head.

‘Sometimes it make him worse.’

‘Can I try?’

She shrugged.

Darrel reached into the buggy and with expert fingers undid the safety harness. Because he had three children of his own, she thought.

He lifted Luke out and the child arched his back and bellowed, his face a violent beetroot colour. It was impossible to talk with that noise, impossible to think. Darrel walked around the car park, Luke over his shoulder howling with rage.

Quite quickly there was a change. Agnieszka could see how the child’s body lost its rigidity and he began to curl into Darrel’s shoulder. He continued to scream but she heard that the fight had gone out of him.

Now Darrel was nestling Luke into the crook of his arm, the child’s back pressed against the dislikeable shirt, his feet dangling. From this safe, high place, Luke stopped crying instantly and stared at the world.

‘How you do it? How you do that?’ demanded Agnieszka. Luke was looking around with wide eyes.

‘It’ll give us some peace for a while. Let’s go in and grab a coffee while we can.’