Soldiers' Wives (12 page)

‘Oh yeah, and when do you think we'll be moving? The regiment's been here for years. I don't want to live in that shit-hole for years more.'

‘Then live with your mother, because that's the alternative. Is that what you'd rather?'

‘No. Lee, babe, I didn't mean that.'

‘No, well, that's what it sounded like to me.'

There was a short embarrassed silence.

‘Come on,' said Lee. ‘We came here to have some fun, not talk about rubbish army housing.' He cocked an ear towards the other group in the bar as yet more laughter rang out. ‘Chrissie and Jack have got the right idea; they're having a great time by the sound of things.'

‘I suppose,' said Jenna, sulkily. She took a swig of her drink. ‘But I ain't happy about that house, Lee. It's not fair and that's that. Just because you're a private doesn't mean you're less of a person than Captain Fanshaw.'

‘Maybe we could have a bit of a party when we move in,' said Lee. ‘Get our mates to come along and help us sort out the garden in exchange for a few bevvies. Hey, guys.' Lee raised his voice to get the attention of Jack's group. ‘If I provided beers and some nosh how would you feel about coming over to mine one Saturday, to help bash my garden into shape?'

There was a general murmuring of assent, but with various conditions regarding the amount of beer and the quality of the scoff.

‘Chrissie?' said Lee, noticing she'd remained silent.

‘I do a lot of duty weekends at the med centre,' she said swiftly. ‘And when I'm not on duty, I might be involved in sports matches. I don't get much free time.' She turned away towards the main group again.

Lee looked disappointed, a look that wasn't lost on Immi. ‘Oh. That's a shame… it's just…' he said, half to himself.

‘
Just
what, Lee?' said Immi, naughtily. ‘You
just
want free medical cover, in case someone gets injured hacking through that jungle the army calls your garden.'

Lee shook his head. ‘It's nothing. It's just I reckon, if Chrissie pitched up, then Jack and Doug and that lot would be sure to as well.'

‘She's certainly popular,' agreed Immi, failing to hide a faint note of envy as she stared at Chrissie.

‘She is that,' said Lee, following her gaze.

‘Hmm,' said Jenna, her eyes narrowing slightly as she looked at Chrissie and then at Lee.

Chrissie glanced over her shoulder and saw Lee staring at her and her stomach did that lurch again, like it had when he'd stopped her falling down the railway embankment. And then she saw the expression on Jenna's face. Fuck – had Jenna guessed how she felt? Surely that just wasn't possible. Well, sod that, she was
not
going to fall for a married man, no way, and what's more, she wasn't having a married man, or his missus, get the wrong idea about her. In that instant she made her mind up: she'd go and see Major Rawlins, the medical officer, first thing in the morning and volunteer for Bastion.

Lee signed the documents listing the existing damage and faults with the quarter and the inventory of the items he and Jenna had been loaned as a get-you-in pack, and Major Milward handed over the keys.

‘We'll be sending barracks services around to replace the shelves in the kitchen. I can't promise exactly when that'll be, but we'll give you a few days' notice so you can make arrangements to be here for the contractors.'

‘I understand, sir, thank you.'

‘And as I said, I know the carpets are shabby, but this quarter isn't scheduled to have new ones for another couple of years.'

Lee wondered how he was going to explain that to Jenna. It didn't help that as well as being orange, which Jenna had already clocked, they were generally skanky. But it was a substandard quarter, so their rent would reflect that, and they were lucky to get anything – or that's what the housing commandant had said. He wasn't sure that Jenna was going to agree, though. There were worrying patches of mould in the bathroom, the paint was marked and shabby throughout, the kitchen looked ancient and there was no double glazing. The place was going to be a mission to heat, but on the bright side, he and Jenna would both be out at work all day and at night they could snuggle together in bed. Maybe if he put it to Jenna like that she wouldn't go off on one. Maybe.

Major Milward expressed his hope that Lee would be happy in his new home and left. Jenna, waiting in her little Corsa on the road outside, almost barged him off the path in her haste to get in and see
exactly
what they'd been allocated.

‘Wait,' said Lee, as he stopped her on the doorstep.

‘Is it so bad you don't want me to see it?' said Jenna, suspiciously.

‘No, hon.' Lee swept her into his arms. ‘I just want to do this,' and he carried her inside.

‘You daft bugger, Lee Perkins,' said Jenna, nuzzling his neck as she pushed the front door shut behind them. She kissed him on the cheek as he put her down, before she said, ‘So what's the worst then? What's this house like?'

Lee pursed his lips. ‘We-ell.'

‘That bad?'

He quickly shook his head. ‘No, not so rank. And it is a place of our own. And Major Milward said we could give it a lick of paint if we wanted.'

‘So it's a dump.'

‘No. And we can have Christmas here, together, in our first home,' offered Lee.

She gave him a hard stare, and pushed past him into the little sitting room. ‘You are kidding me,' she said, looking around.

‘It's not that bad. A nice rug—'

‘Don't you “nice rug” me. This carpet is disgusting. What the hell happened there?' Jenna pointed to a large dark stain.

‘The major said it was red wine.'

‘Really?' It was obvious Jenna thought it was no such thing.

‘They've been professionally cleaned, so whatever it
was
, it's just a stain
now
.'

‘Hmmm.' But she was off into the tiny dining room, which got a sneer, and then through that, into the kitchen. She stood in front of the cooker, with its solid electric plates. ‘Bloody hell. I can't cook on that!'

Which was news to Lee because, as far as he knew, Jenna couldn't cook on
anything
. Or at least that's what her mum had said. Lee looked at the electric oven – was it so bad? It was sparkling clean, whatever age it was, but Jenna's look of horror was unmistakable. ‘We'll buy a microwave.'

But Jenna was moving on. She'd gone back into the hall and was heading up the stairs.

‘So where's the third bedroom?' she asked Lee when he caught up with her.

‘What do we need that for?' Lee was at an utter loss. A bedroom for them and one spare for anyone who might care to stay – what on earth would they do with a third?

‘So where are all my clothes going to live?'

‘Your
clothes
?'

‘Well, they're not going to fit in there!' Jenna waved a hand at the two wardrobes in the main bedroom.

‘Why not?' He could get his kit into half of one of those and still have room to spare. Jenna could have all the rest of the space and the other wardrobe.

Jenna just rolled her eyes and sighed. ‘Lee, have you any idea about women's wardrobes?'

Lee shrugged, completely bewildered.

‘Well, trust me, we need space.'

‘What, a whole bedroom's worth?'

‘A walk-in wardrobe's worth.'

Lee wondered for a second what planet Jenna was living on. There was no way she'd had that in her mum's council house. His face must have reflected his thoughts.

‘At the moment half my stuff is packed in boxes in my mum's loft. I thought when we got our own place I'd be able to get properly organised. I'm so fed up of never having any space just for me. I'm sick of making do.' She stopped and shook her head.

Lee felt a rush of sorrow. ‘I'm sorry, babe,' he said. ‘Maybe in the next place.'

‘Yeah, well…' She opened the door to the bathroom and shut it again. ‘I suppose I should be thankful we've an indoor toilet.' She turned away quickly from Lee, but not before he could see a tear glistening in her eye.

Jenna sat on the army issue sofa in the sitting room and stared at the stain on the carpet. Zoë had given her the day off, to move in and get straight, so she didn't have to rush. Lee, however, having completed the march-in, had had to go back to work, leaving Jenna to unpack the two suitcases she'd brought from home, make up their bed and put away the china and cutlery they'd been issued with by the army in their get-you-in pack. She sighed as she looked at the scruffy orange carpet, the drab, unlined curtains at the window that didn't quite go with the carpet – but then what would? – and the dreary magnolia paint on the walls.

Yup, it was a dump. She supposed she ought to be grateful to have a quarter; she wasn't the only girl on the council estate desperate to get away from living at home with her mum. Heck, she had mates with a couple of kids who still couldn't get a place of their own. But that didn't make this place any less scuzzy. She made up her mind – she might have been given a dump, but it didn't have to stay that way. She'd make something of this place, make it habitable at the very least.

Revitalised, she went out to her little car and dragged in the two big suitcases which contained enough possessions to keep her going for a week or so. Next, she lugged into the house two bin bags full of bedding and towels, followed by her portable TV and DVD player, and finally, she brought in the box of hair care products that she had pinched over the months from Zoë's and which she used on her private clients. By lunchtime, her clothes filled both the wardrobes in the main bedroom, the bed was made up, her hairdressing stuff was arranged neatly in the spare bedroom on the chest of drawers and the TV was on in the sitting room, filling the house with banal daytime chatter.

Jenna looked around. It was still a dump, but at least now it was
her
dump. Her stomach rumbled and she glanced at her watch: lunchtime. She walked the hundred yards to the Spar to grab a sandwich, and while she was there, she also bought a notebook and pencil. Returning to the house she walked around it, eating her lunch and making notes as she went. By the time she'd finished, she had a plan. She decided not to tell Lee what she had in mind just yet; she'd need to get a few quotes from local workmen first.

The doorbell rang. Jenna wondered who it might be. When she opened it, she saw an unknown young woman and a small child on the doorstep.

‘Hiya,' said the stranger. ‘I'm Sharon and I live next door. And this,' she said as she stared fondly at the slightly grubby toddler, ‘is Gary. I named him for Gary Barlow.'

Like I care, thought Jenna. But she had the sense not to voice her opinion. ‘Hi,' she replied. ‘Jenna.' She stuck her hand out and her new neighbour shook it.

‘You got a kettle and everything?' Sharon asked.

Jenna nodded. ‘All sorted, thank you.' She could tell Sharon was angling for a cuppa but Jenna still had stuff to do. And she looked at the kid with the mucky hands. Her house might be a dump, but it was a clean dump and it was going to stay that way. The last thing she wanted was some snotty kid making a bad situation worse.

‘My husband's in C Company,' said Sharon.

‘Mine's in B.'

‘Do you think they'll know each other?'

‘I really don't know.' I really don't care. But she smiled, as best she could. ‘I'm sure we'll find out.' Jenna glanced pointedly at her watch. She wanted to get the ball rolling with her plan, and Sharon was holding her up.

‘I know you from somewhere, don't I?' said Sharon, ignoring Jenna's hint.

‘You might do. I work at Zoë's.'

‘That's it. It's going to be well useful having you as a neighbour. You'll be able to cut Gary's hair for him.'

Huh, Sharon could think again – unless she was planning to pay the going rate. ‘Yes, well, I mustn't keep you.' Jenna started to shut the door.

‘You must come round to mine – have a coffee. Bring your kids, maybe.'

‘No children.'

‘Yet,' said Sharon archly.

‘Ever,' said Jenna firmly. She pushed the door further shut. There was an ear-splitting scream. She looked down. Fuck, the brat's fingers were in the hinge. She flung the door wide as Sharon started screaming too, just to add to the bedlam and chaos. What was she screaming for? She wasn't hurt. Jenna checked out Gary's fingers; they looked a bit odd, a bit wonky, but they were still all attached and there wasn't any blood.

‘How could you?' screeched Sharon, grabbing Gary away from Jenna and throwing her an evil look as she did so.

‘It wasn't my fault.'

‘Why didn't you check?' Sharon was on her knees, cuddling a still shrieking Gary.

‘How did I know he'd shove his fingers in the way?' retorted Jenna, angry at being blamed. She hadn't asked them to visit. ‘It was an accident. I didn't mean it.' She did feel a twinge of guilt; the kid was obviously hurt, but how was it her fault?

But Sharon was now ignoring Jenna and trying to soothe her son. Another mother, passing with a couple of kids in tow, stopped.

‘What's up, Shaz?'

‘Jenna here slammed the door on little Gary's fingers,' snapped Sharon.

‘No, I didn't. I shut the door and Gary's fingers got caught. I didn't
slam
it.'

The other woman looked from one to the other, taking in the situation. ‘Here, let me look.' She too knelt down by Gary and gently had a look at his hand. ‘The thing with babies' bones is, they're soft.' She rubbed Gary's head. ‘Just a nasty shock, I think, and nothing broken.'

Sharon glared at Jenna. ‘No thanks to you.'

‘I'm sorry,' said Jenna, meaning it. ‘I'm sorry Gary got hurt but I really didn't mean to do it. It was an accident.'