Soldier's Daughters (33 page)

‘I don’t like the thought of you being on your own on a near-deserted patch with a kid to look after and one in the oven as well. What if she comes back?’

‘Tell you what, if that’s what’s worrying you, why don’t you stay? Your old man’s away, so’s mine. You don’t have anything to get back to, I’ve got nothing planned… Go on, what do you say?’

Jenna looked at her. ‘Aren’t there rules about officers’ wives having people like me to stay in their quarters?’

Maddy laughed. ‘Almost certainly! Let’s live dangerously.’ And then she winced again. ‘Sheesh. I wish the little bugger would stop doing that. Now then, let’s see what I can rustle up for lunch while you nip home and grab whatever you need for the weekend.’

‘I won’t be long. And, while I’m gone, don’t open the door without checking who it is. Promise?’

‘Promise.’

Sam was in the workshop, organising a recovery vehicle and team of mechanics to schlep out to Archers Post – the camp at the entrance to the Kenyan live-firing ranges – to sort out a couple of Land Rovers, which had already broken down. She was flicking though a sheaf of papers, trying to work out what her resources actually were and thus, what she could spare. Beside her, on the desk, the radio crackled and hissed and she kept half an ear open for her own call sign. It was unlikely that anyone would need to talk to her directly but they’d want her to answer promptly if they did.

‘Am I disturbing you?’

She recognised the voice and looked up. ‘James! When did you get here?’ Goodness, it was so nice to see a friendly face.

James dragged a hand over his face and muffled a yawn. ‘The main party landed at dawn, then we all went up to the British Army Training Unit for a briefing then back on the bus and now here.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I don’t think I’ve slept for thirty-six hours; I’m bushed.’

‘Would coffee help? It’s only the compo sort and condensed milk, though. Not posh Douwe Egberts and cream or anything.’

‘I don’t care, as long as it’s hot and wet and contains caffeine. Frankly it sounds like nectar.’

Sam got up and went over to another trestle table where there was a kettle, a battered coffee container, a tin of milk and some grubby mugs. A couple of minutes later she returned and handed James his drink. ‘I’m sorry, but I couldn’t find the silver salver and the doilies.’ She gave him a welcoming smile.

James grinned back at her. ‘Numpty,’ he said. He gazed at her fondly. As Sam moved around her desk to sit down again she saw Luke staring at them, the epitome of disapproval; his sapphire blue eyes blazing, his mouth compressed into a thin line and his jaw clenched. Disapproving of what? Taking a quick break? Making coffee for a colleague? Angrily, she stared back at him till he dropped his gaze.

‘So, what’s next?’ she asked James.

‘You mean after I finally get some zeds?’

‘Yup.’ She sipped her coffee and grimaced. Yuck, coffee and Carnation milk, horrible.

‘Straight to Samburu, an overnight stop at Archers Post and then onto the ranges.’

‘Aw. I was hoping to have a catch-up.’ She put her mug down on her desk. ‘Not that there’s much time for that – everyone’s flat out – but even a quick chat to an old mucker would be nice.’

‘How’s it going with the ASM?’

‘He’s still tricky, still goes his own sweet way if he thinks he can get away with it, but it’s not as bad as it was. By the time I get posted out again, we might even make a team.’

James laughed. ‘Keep working at it. At least it’s going in the right direction.’ He swigged some more of his coffee, and then yawned. ‘God, I need to get to bed. Maybe drinking coffee isn’t the best idea.’ He took another gulp. ‘On the other hand, I don’t think anything will stop me from sleeping. The way I feel right now I could neck half-a-dozen Red Bulls and still crash out.’

‘Given how shattered you look, I think you’re right.’

James yawned again. ‘Sorry.’

‘Look, go and get your head down and I’ll see you for supper in the cookhouse.’

‘When? Five?’ He handed her his half-finished drink.

‘Make it half-past. It’s crazy here and I never get away before that.’

He leaned forward and gave her a quick, brotherly peck on the cheek. Across the workshop a large piece of metal clanged onto the floor and the sound reverberated through the warm air. Sam spun around to see what had happened and saw Luke had dropped a drip tray and a pool of oil was spreading outwards on the ground at his feet. He stared at her defiantly before he wandered off to fetch some fuller’s earth to put on the spill. Sam thought about upbraiding him for carelessness but suddenly she couldn’t be bothered. Sod him.

After James had left she returned to the jobs awaiting her attention and blanked out the noise of the workshop as she concentrated on her work. Time flew by as she worked out rosters and allocated resources. Before she knew it, it was almost time for lunch.

‘Ma’am?’ said the ASM, approaching the trestle table.

She looked up. ‘Yes?’

‘We’ve got a problem.’

But she knew from past experience with the ASM that whatever it was it was going to be her problem, not one they were going to share. Sam felt her shoulders slump. Like she didn’t have enough on her plate. ‘Yes?’

‘We’ve got real issues with a genny. The sappers building that bridge broke theirs, they’ve tried to fix it and from the sound of things they’ve made things worse.’

Sam rolled her eyes. Like they had generators to spare. ‘How bad?’

‘Could be terminal.’

Sam threw her pen down on the desk and sighed. ‘I suppose we’d better drag another one up there, in case the team that goes to repair it can’t. They can bring the dud one back here if it’s in clip state and we can see what we can do in the workshop.’

‘That’s what I think too. The trouble is…’

‘Yes?’

‘The trouble is you’re the only electrical engineer we’ve got left who’s probably got the expertise to do it.’

Sam shook her head. ‘You’re joking.’

‘Honest, ma’am. You know how it is and all the other sparks are already deployed and run off their feet. I wouldn’t ask you if there was any other option.’

For once she felt inclined to cut the ASM some slack. ‘OK, fair point. How long do you reckon this is going to take?’

‘Couple of days ma’am – tops. It’s a fair old drive to the site and then you’re going to have to see what can be done…’

Sam sighed again. ‘Then you’ll have to hold the fort while I’m gone.’ She knew he’d love that.

‘I’ll cope.’

She had no doubts on that score. Besides, he’d get to do things his way, not hers. ‘
And
I’m going to need a driver so that’ll be two of us out of the loop. There’s a bit of me that says “bugger it” and that I should risk going on my own…’

‘You can’t. You know what standard operating procedures say. And it’s in SOPs for a reason. It can be bloody dodgy out there. What with poachers and the wildlife, if you had a breakdown it simply wouldn’t be safe on your own.’

‘I know, I know. I wasn’t going to do it, really.’ But even so, she felt that if there had been a sniff of a chance of getting away with it she’d have had a try. They really didn’t have the manpower to spare a driver for her – a guy to be her chauffeur and to hold her hand. But, on the other hand, the Bailey bridge was being built a very long way upcountry, far too far away for it to be in any way sensible to attempt such a journey on her own. No, the ASM was right, she’d have to have a driver.

‘Who can we spare?’ she asked.

‘Think it’s going to have to be Blake.’

Sam’s heart sank. Of all the guys in her LAD the one she least fancied spending a straight forty-eight hours with was Blake.

‘OK, Mr Williams, you’d better tell him to get ready to move out tomorrow.’

‘Ah, that’s the thing.’

‘What’s the thing?’ Sam felt her heart sink further.

‘You know that BBC journo we’ve got embedded?’

‘Yeah.’

‘He’s up at the bridge – doing a piece about the hearts and minds aspect of the exercise. The CO wants the genny fixed ASAP so this guy can see how efficient and wilco 1 Herts are. I don’t think he wants the sappers getting all the kudos; he wants some for us as well.’

Sam nodded. ‘So tell me, this means Blake and I are leaving today, right?’

The ASM nodded. ‘That’s about the size of it. As soon as you can if you’re going to make it before nightfall.’

Great. Fucking great. ‘OK.’ She sighed again. ‘Tell Blake that he’s been spammed for this, tell him to meet me outside my room in twenty minutes.’ She pulled a piece of paper towards her and scribbled a few words on it. ‘And can you make sure this gets to Captain Rosser. Tell him “sorry” from me, would you, and that I’ll see him at Endex.’

‘Righto, ma’am.’

Sam pushed the papers on her desk into a pile and headed off to the cubby hole she called her room to grab her kit for the trip.

Jack was sitting under a thorn tree on a folding chair, tapping away at his laptop, pausing every now and again to look at the scene ahead of him. Thirty yards in front of him was a swirling brown river and on the same bank as him were twenty or so soldiers, stripped to the waist, building a bridge out of the biggest Meccano set in the universe. It was hot, heavy work but the soldiers were laughing and joshing as they laboured, making the piecing together of the complicated structure all look remarkably easy. The troop commander had told Jack that, in essence, it was a case of reading the instructions.

‘A bit like flat-pack furniture. You know, you insert tab A into slot B and Bob’s your uncle.’

As Jack had once been almost reduced to a gibbering wreck trying to construct an Ikea bookcase he wasn’t so sure – not that he was going to admit it to this young army officer. He swatted a fly and then took off his bush hat and used it to fan himself. Shit, it was hot. He reached down beside his chair, grabbed his water bottle and took a swig. Bleuch, it was warm, but he still glugged down half of it.

A light flashed on his screen, warning him that his battery was dangerously low. Quickly he hit the save button, shoved in a memory stick and re-saved to that – belt and braces and all that – and then shut down his machine.

‘Finished?’ said Immi.

Jack shook his head. ‘Nowhere near. But until we get a generator that works I have no way of recharging the batteries. I brought three and they’re all flat now.’

‘You’ve got to hope that one will get here today. I don’t want to spend another night out here with bugger all light,’ said Immi with feeling. ‘God knows what was making those noises last night but it sounded big and hungry.’

‘It was probably miles away. Sound carries a long way out here.’

Immi gave him a look that told Jack she thought he was talking out of his rear end.

‘Truly,’ he said with a grin.

‘Huh.’

‘Look,’ he said, ‘I can’t write without my laptop. I thought I’d take a bunch of pictures, shoot a video. Want to help?’

‘How?’ said Immi warily.

‘I want you to hold the camera while I do a piece to it. Think you can do that?’

Immi perked up. ‘As long as it’s not too complicated.’

‘It’s point and click. Honest. All you do is hold it steady and focus on my face.’

‘OK.’

‘I thought I’d go along the bank there so I can get the guys working in the background. And then I’m planning to head off to the village to talk to some of the locals about the difference this bridge will make. The hot intel is that the headman speaks good English so it should make a nice story. It’s always better when the viewers hear it straight from the horse’s mouth and not via an interpreter. You can come too, if you’d like. In fact, I’d really like it if you did.’

Immi didn’t look too keen.

‘You’d add a bit of glamour – the newsroom might like it. You’d get your face on the telly.’

That did it, but Jack could tell that Immi was trying to look casual about the prospect. ‘No, you’re right. It’ll pass the time.’

Jack went to the vehicle where he had his kit stored and returned with a large camera bag. He got out the hand-held video camera. He showed Immi how to hold it, which buttons she had to press and stood in front of her while she had a go at filming him.

‘How do you know what to say?’ she said, after Jack had delivered a short but succinct piece about what the sappers were hoping to achieve.

‘It’s not rocket science,’ said Jack. ‘I say what I see. Besides…’ he gave her a grin ‘…being coherent in front of a camera is the day job.’

Immi shrugged and handed him back the camera. ‘Here, you’d better check that I didn’t screw up.’

Jack stood next to Immi so she could look at the screen too. He was very aware of her fresh clean smell. He’d had to get up close and personal with loads of soldiers in his time but Immi was a one-off. Despite the fact that she seemed the least likely person ever to have joined the army there was something refreshing about her honesty when it came to her attitude to privation and hardship. She’d shared her opinion about the latrines several times. And, in spite of himself, Jack couldn’t but help respect the fact that, despite the tough conditions of the sappers’ camp, she still managed to have immaculate hair and make-up. This was obviously a woman who wasn’t prepared to let her standards slip because there was no running water or even decent sanitation. But he’d also noticed the way that she didn’t take any shit from the soldiers. She might not be able to carry her own body weight in kit, she mightn’t like wildlife, but if any of the squaddies gave her any lip at all she could issue a blistering put-down without a second thought, which always amused the other lads who were not the butt of her remarks. So, in spite of the fact that she was a girly-girl, all the guys who worked with her really seemed to like her. And Jack found that he did too.

He filmed the soldiers as they carried on building the bridge, he interviewed the troop commander and some of his men about being tasked to help the locals and got some interesting comments regarding the importance of putting something back into a country that let them have free rein to play with their kit and where, despite the less than commendable behaviour of a previous generation of soldiers, the locals were almost invariably friendly.