Army of You & Me (13 page)

“Glad you’re all right, sir!” someone yelled before they all started a rousing chorus of “A Pirate’s Life for Me.”

He laughed. “Fuck off.” Making his way to the lone computer, he ruffled the dust from his hair and logged on to Skype. He heard Madeline’s voice before he could see her and said, “Before you panic, it’s a small scratch.”

Her face showed on the screen and immediately she yelped. “Holy God!”

Not the way he wanted this little meeting to go at all, by any stretch of the imagination, but she was sight for (a) sore eye. He was so glad to see her. “It’s just a small scratch on my cornea. Little bit of shrapnel got me, but I’m fine. All intact otherwise.”

She didn’t say anything, just stared at him with her hands over her mouth. “Madeline,” he insisted, voice low, “I’m fine. Could have been much worse, but I’m fine. Look, sweetheart, I can’t be on here forever, you should say something.”

“I told you! I told you about heroics!”

“Well, not that.” He tried distraction. The look of distress on her face was becoming unbearable. “I can’t see what you’re wearing. Can you stand up for a minute?”

She lowered her hands and shook her head at him. “You’re not being careful.”

“It’s the first time anything’s happened around here in weeks.”

“Doesn’t that mean you have to come home?”

Cain sighed. “’Fraid not. If it was a bullet wound or the IED took out a leg, then of course.” Wrong thing to say. Madeline dropped her head on the laptop. She seemed so close he felt he was close enough to reach over and stroke those twists. Not thousands of miles away. “I’m fine. I promise.”

She lifted her head, one eye visible over her arm. “Everything’s intact?”

“Everything you like on me, yes.” He grinned. “How are you?”

“Missing you. I don’t know why, you’re so odd. Your mum came to see me.”

Cain’s eyebrows rose. “Did she really? Whatever for? More chocolate crack?”

“Yes, I gave her some more chocolates, but she sorted a meeting for me with the golf club nearby. They want the chocolates as petit fours after dinner. Nice chunk of cash for that.”

“Good old Mum. Have you seen Dad?”

“Funnily enough, I ran into him at the golf club and we had lunch there. He wanted to know if you were treating me appropriately.”

“Am I?” he asked, suddenly serious. Had his father said something? The worst thing about tours was the inevitable feeling of regret. And he had an opportunity to rectify the worst regret he had where Madeline was concerned.

She sent him a slow smile. “I just miss you. You’ve never treated me with anything than the utmost respect. Except when you yelled at me.”

“Once.”

“You always yell.”

“Army man, sweetheart. I’ve got very little in the way of volume control.”

“You’ve got a lot of control, don’t be silly.”

He sighed. “I’ve been so desperate to talk to you, and now I can see your beautiful face I don’t know what to say. Except sorry.”

“What for?”

“Worrying you. I promise I’m trying to stay in one piece.”

She nodded, looking down at her laptop and drawing a fingertip over the keys. “I know you are.” When she looked up, he thought he could see tears in her eyes, but she smiled at him instead. “Let me tell you what happened at the market stall this weekend. I think we could both do with the laugh.”

Relieved that his plans for now seemed secret, and not blurted by either of his parents, Cain leaned back in his seat. “If the Internet cuts out half way through, I love you.”

Her smile was so brilliant, it would be imprinted in his mind until his last day. “I love you too.”

Caz had been a surprising help and let him know Madeline was working at Tutti Fruitti late that evening. He’d told a few fibs about his return date to the UK just so he could surprise her. Well, he hoped it was a good surprise or else it’d all go down like a lead balloon.

In a clean uniform, he parked a few doors away from the shop and took a deep breath. He sent Caz a text message.
I’m here now.

Caz text back in a second:
go for it.

He approached the shop and saw there were muted lights coming from inside. Cupping his hands over his eyes, he peeked inside and saw Madeline standing in the middle of the shop. She saw him and beckoned him inside. The door clicked open with the barest of shoves.

She had decorated the shop in red – hearts, flowers, streamers and the fairy lights blinked an intermittent red. Even her dress, with its full skirts, was a brilliant vermillion. She stood in a circle of candles, and as he stepped closer, he realised it was shaped in a heart.

“Come in,” she said softly, holding her hands out to him. “Hello, Fibber.”

“Caz told you?” He stepped over the candles to clasp both her hands. She was trembling, and he rubbed his thumbs over her skin to send calm to her. It’d been almost nine months since they’d touched each other, and if he wasn’t so intent on what she wanted to say, they’d be on the floor without much clothing on.

“Of course she did! She nearly went to Parliament Square to organise a protest against your coming back into the country.”

“Cheeky cow,” he said, half in admiration of the woman’s deceit. “This is some homecoming.”

Madeline took a breath, heavy and in preparation. Just like the breath he’d taken before he’d left the car. “You’ve...” Her voice petered out and she stared down at her shoes. “I’m sorry. This is harder than I thought it’d be.”

“Take your time,” he insisted, squeezing her hands. “I’m not going anywhere. You can tell me anything. Anything at all.”

She smiled and took another deep breath. “Okay. You’ve given me back something I thought I’d lost in Rwanda. I thought I’d never be able to truly love anyone. But you’ve given me back my compassion and my patience, and you’ve opened up my heart. I remember being so scared this time last year because I only had the faintest idea of what you’d mean to me. And I wouldn’t be without this
—
the way I feel about you now
—
for the world. And I think about how you told me ‘no,’ and I can’t thank you enough for not giving up. So... Oh, hell.” She released his hand and reached over the candles for a truffle box. “I wanted to ask...”

Madeline almost went on her knee, but Cain yanked her back up. His stomach was doing insane flips. At her words, at what she’d just been about to do. “You’re not proposing to me.”

“What? Why not? Oh, God...” Her eyes widened in growing horror. “You don’t want to marry me, do you?”

He laughed. In relief, to stop himself from crying like a little girl, in understanding at just how perfect she was for him. “I do, you silly girl. I was going to do it first.”

She sniffed, hiding her amusement behind her hand. “You’re such a liar!”

“Sometimes, admittedly, but not about this.” He removed a velvet box from his inside pocket and placed it on top of the truffle box she held.

“That’s too big for a ring.”

“Yes. For a start, I know you’d want to pick your own ring, and my mother has a huge collection that she’s waiting for you to choose from. Secondly and more importantly, I didn’t know how much tradition you follow, but since it brought us together, there should be something symbolic of Rwanda there. On our day. If you say yes, that is. So I chose this instead.”

She picked up the box. “Well, you hold this, and I’ll open this. Swap.”

He waited for her to open the jewellery box. It was as close to African as he could find. A diamond and platinum jewelled piece that would sit on Madeline’s delicate forehead. She stared up at him over the box. “When did you do this?”

“Before I left.”

“You were with me all the time!”

He simply smiled. “There was time. Told you, I’m good at strategizing. You’re catching up, though.” He admired the shop’s transformation.

“Open yours,” she insisted.

Inside was a packet of Wotsit crisps, some yum yum doughnuts, Maltesers chocolates and his
Marc de champagne
truffles. “Get it?” She pointed at each item. “Will. You. Marry. Me?”

He slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her close. “Very witty and delicious.”

“You haven’t said anything yet!” she mumbled against his chest.

“Let’s swap again.” He handed her the truffle box and took the jewellery from her. Removing the jewellery from the box, he gently lowered it onto her forehead. She looked ethereal. When he’d divorced, he’d been content to never, ever marry again. Why bind himself to something so finite? An institution that had a fifty percent chance of ending in divorce? But the woman standing in front of him made him understand that his life would never be complete unless she was truly his, committed, united, forever and ever, until the stars in the sky imploded. There was nothing practical or sensible about his love for her and this, at this moment, with the jewellery on her forehead that symbolised how far they both had come, made complete sense to him.

“Madeline Grace Mpoyi, will you do me the honour of accepting my proposal, because I got in there first, and become my wife?”

“Nathaniel Cain Goldsmith, I got here first, so thank you for accepting my proposal of marriage. I can’t wait to be your wife.” She slipped her arms around his neck and kissed him. He wasn’t going to argue. Her answer gave him everything he’d ever wanted.

It’s getting dark
, Madeline thought, shifting herself more comfortably on Cain’s shoulder. The wool was scratchy on her chin, but the warmth that radiated from it was all her husband’s. From their blanket, they could still see the lights of the marquee on the Goldsmith’s Cambridgeshire lawn and had a choice spot to watch the fireworks that were due to begin.

“Are you cold?” he asked gently, carefully lifting her from him and removing his ceremonial jacket to wrap around her shoulders.

“Perfect now.” She smiled up at him. “Do you think anyone’s looking for us?”

“Our damn wedding day, we’ll bugger off if we want to,” he asserted, tightening his arm around her shoulders. His tone made her grin. The “and that’s the end of the matter” command hadn’t gone over very well with either of their parents, and rather than the elopement Cain wanted, they’d done things properly. He’d asked her father for his permission to marry her. They’d planned the wedding exactly three days after his return from a stint in Cyprus. Madeline wore his grandmother’s wedding dress with absolute glee. It was vintage Dior and a delight. Finally, the Goldsmiths licensed their home for ceremonies, and the wedding was officiated there with a blessing at the local chapel. Madeline was moved to tears that his platoon turned up in full uniform and high spirits. She found it far more amusing to be referred to as “One-Eyed Willy’s Wife” than Mrs. Goldsmith.

“One scratched cornea, and I’m One-Eyed Willy for life,” Cain muttered.

The party favours were Cain’s favourite truffles made in mass quantities by Madeline and Caz, who still couldn’t understand how her boss was married to a soldier. Rather than wedding presents, they both asked people to contribute to the Rwandan Forgiveness charity and Help the Heroes in Madeline and Cain’s name, which they did in spades. Finally, for the first time in the entire day, they were together and alone.

“I brought something,” Cain said lightly.