Soldiers' Wives (32 page)

Except it wasn't for poor Lee Perkins. Injured and with an unfaithful wife… for him it was all crap, really.

Chrissie sat at the desk in the NAAFI and typed her password, one-handed, into the shared computer. Then she hit the Skype icon. Was Immi online? Whoo hoo. She hit the call button. The ring tone blipped from the computer speakers. And then up came Immi's face.

‘Hi, Chrissie,' said Immi. ‘How's things?' Then she noticed the sling. ‘You've been in the wars. What happened?'

‘Got shot,' said Chrissie. She relayed the story.

‘You're joking me,' said Immi. She sounded completely stunned. ‘And you were rescuing Lee?' Chrissie nodded. ‘Bloody hell. And you ended up getting shot.'

‘It's just a flesh wound. They're going to send me back too, though. I'm not much use now I can't work, and they want to do some surgery on it to reduce the scarring.'

‘Bloody hell, Chrissie, that doesn't sound like nothing to me. It must have hurt.'

Chrissie nodded. ‘It did a bit, but I didn't notice properly till the excitement died down.' But she hadn't called to talk about herself. ‘How's Jenna? How did she take the news?'

‘Not brilliantly. No,' said Immi, ‘that's not quite what I meant. She was really quite calm about it. OK, so poor old Lee hasn't lost a limb or anything, but it was a shocking bullet wound. Old Milward told me she wanted me to be there to make the phone calls and everything, but it was almost like she couldn't be bothered, not that she couldn't cope because she was so upset. Honest, Chrissie, I know shock takes people different ways, but Jenna was really weird. She says she's had it with the army. She says she doesn't want anything to do with the welfare system here and isn't sure about accepting the army arrangements to go and stay at the hospital so she can visit Lee. I'm worried about her, Chrissie, I really am.'

‘And if she's in a bad way, it won't help Lee. It's a bit of a mess, isn't it?'

‘When do you think you and Lee'll be coming back?'

‘I'm scheduled on the next medevac flight and if Lee's lucky, so will he, but at the mo he's not too clever and they're keeping him pretty sedated.'

‘That doesn't sound great.'

‘The bullet that hit him made a real mess of his shoulder – smashed his shoulder blade, apparently, and punctured a lung, plus it caused huge blood loss. Actually, he's bloody lucky. The bullet stopped up against his spinal cord – another inch and it doesn't bear thinking about.'

‘Shit, that's awful.'

Chrissie nodded. ‘He's going to need lots of physio when he gets better if he wants to get full movement back in his right arm, but the medics here are hopeful.'

‘So some good news, then.'

‘I'll keep you in the picture. I'm going to go now. I want to pop over to the hospital and see Lee.'

‘Give him my love,' said Immi.

‘And you tell Jenna he's getting the best treatment.'

Chrissie flicked off Skype and logged off. Time to visit Lee. She felt happy at the prospect. She walked out of the air-conditioned NAAFI into the suddenly searing heat. It had gone from winter to ‘blast-furnace' in about ten days, and Chrissie found it exhausting. How ironic, she thought, as she tramped the mile or so to the hospital, that she'd come out here to get away from Lee and yet events had conspired to drive them even closer together.

‘Hey!' A familiar voice stopped her in her tracks.

Chrissie turned round. ‘Hey, Phil. Off duty?'

He nodded. ‘Just been stood down. Where are you off to?'

‘Thought I'd drop in on Lee – see how he's doing.'

‘Cool. Want some company?'

No, she didn't, she'd like to have Lee all to herself, but how could she tell Phil and not have eyebrows raised? ‘Sure.'

‘And I've got something to show you.'

Phil fell into step beside Chrissie as they stomped over the grey, dusty ground, between the rows of prefabs and tents with an arc of cloudless sky above them. ‘Oh, what?' She had to raise her voice as a helicopter took off and clattered overhead.

Phil waited for it to thunder off, over the perimeter fence, before he hauled his day sack off his back and pulled out a netbook. ‘I've got a new film downloaded.' He waved the little computer at her enticingly before they set off again.

‘Great, what is it?'

‘
Top Hat
.'

‘Oooh, one of my favourites.'

‘Thought it might be.'

‘Although I loved
Flying Down to Rio.
'

‘Did you? Now, I preferred
Shall We Dance
.'

They strode on, pausing in their discussion of Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers films only when aircraft and helicopters thundered in and out of the base, deafening them both, until they reached the field hospital. Inside, the air con brought the temperature back down to something approaching normal, although it was so cold compared to the outside that Chrissie's skin instantly broke out in goose pimples.

They made their way through the myriad tented corridors joining together the prefab buildings, till they got to Lee's ward. He was still lying motionless on his bed, his eyes shut, the drip delivering pain relief still connected into one arm, a drip of saline going into the other, and electrodes and monitors connected to other bits of him. Around him, machines beeped and blipped intermittently.

‘How is he?' Chrissie asked a passing nurse.

‘Much better,' was the reply. ‘We're bringing him off a lot of the medication. I think he'll be flying back to the UK on the next medevac flight.'

‘Him and me both, then,' said Chrissie.

‘And me. I've volunteered to be an in-flight medic,' said Phil. ‘Someone's got to do it.'

‘Really?'

‘Why not? Spending a day and a half on a round-trip to the UK is my idea of heaven.'

Chrissie pressed her good hand to her chest in mock excitement. ‘Ah yes, the glamour of in-flight movies, duty free, departure lounge shopping opportunities…'

‘And,' added Phil, ‘most of the passengers get lie-flat business class travel. Only the very best customers for me.'

They pulled up a couple of moulded plastic chairs and sat next to Lee's bed. His colour was certainly better. Chrissie cast a professional eye over the chart above his bed and noted that his temperature and blood pressure were almost back to normal. Phil got out his netbook and opened up the media player.

‘Fancy a bit of Fred and Ginge while we wait for Sleeping Beauty to come round?' asked Phil.

‘Wouldn't say no,' responded Chrissie. After all, what else did she have to do? She was on light duties, couldn't do her day job, her admin was up-to-date… Fred and Ginge sounded a perfect way to while away some time.

Phil plugged his headphones into the jack and passed an earpiece to Chrissie. ‘Sorry,' he said, ‘we'll have to share. Not exactly stereo.'

Chrissie laughed. ‘I almost don't need to hear the soundtrack. I think I know most of the words to this and I know
all
the words to the songs. Not getting the movie in Dolby surround sound will
so
not spoil it for me.'

The film started and they both watched the black and white classic unfold on the screen, engrossed in the story.

Lee began to feel the fog lift. He was used to it now and it didn't make him feel so panicky. As the fuzz drifted out of his brain like mist rising off an autumn field and he realised that consciousness was returning, he knew now what to expect. First the vague sounds of activity in the ward: the sound of rubber-soled boots squeaking on the polished floor, voices, maybe the beep of a pager going off, and then, from outside, the incessant sound of aircraft engines, winding up, winding down, full-throttle on take-off with a heavy load… Then he'd become aware of light on the other side of his eyelids, of the feel of the cotton bed sheets under his fingertips, of the throb in his shoulder, of the thirst in his throat. And then he'd remember Johnny and the sight of his hideously foreshortened leg. And then he'd open his eyes to lose that image.

Usually all he saw was the ceiling and the strip lighting of this prefab ward. But this time he could see people next to his bed. Visitors. He blinked a couple of times. One was Chrissie, he'd recognise that halo of hair anywhere, but she was bent so close to this other visitor she completely obscured who it was, although he could see enough of the haircut to know it was a bloke. Whoever she was with they had a shared interest. He could tell by their body language they were totally relaxed with each other. The best of friends. Maybe more.

Suddenly he felt ridiculously emotional; he didn't want Chrissie to be with someone else. He wanted her himself, although he knew it was all wrong, all madness. Why was he feeling like this? It had to be the fault of the drugs, there could be no other explanation.

He watched them for a few moments until Chrissie flicked a glance in his direction. She smiled, her eyes softening with real pleasure, which made Lee's feelings get into an even bigger turmoil.

‘Lee! Hi, how are you feeling?' She ripped her earphone out and leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek. His aches and pains vanished as other, stronger emotions washed through him. If she could do that to him with a kiss what the hell could she do to him if they really got it together? No! He
had
to stop thinking like that.

‘Hi, Chrissie,' he croaked.

‘You need water,' she told him, as if he didn't know. Instantly she picked up his beaker and pressed the straw against his lips. He could feel the warmth of her hand against his chin.

He sucked on the straw and felt his mouth unstick, un-gunge. Bliss.

‘So.' She smiled at him. ‘How are you feeling now?'

He couldn't tell her the real truth: he was as horny as hell, despite everything. ‘Better. Not so dusty. But what about you?' He stared at her sling. ‘What happened to you?'

‘She got shot, rescuing you,' said her friend.

Lee looked past Chrissie and recognised her companion. Bugger, it was Phil, he might have guessed. But then the significance of what Phil had just said hit home.

‘Shot?'

‘It's only a scratch,' said Chrissie. ‘It's not like your wound.'

‘It's nothing of the sort,' said Phil. ‘And I'll have you know that despite her wound, this woman still managed to help carry you back to the Chinook.'

She'd done what? Lee felt a total rush of love for Chrissie.

Chrissie punched Phil's arm with her good hand. ‘Will you stop bigging it up? It was nothing serious and I still had an arm that worked.'

But she gave her medical colleague a smile that Lee would have walked over fire to have won. But he had no right to that sort of smile, and it seemed Chrissie was obviously mad about Phil, lucky guy. Instead he said, ‘Yeah, sounds like it. It must have still killed.'

‘To be honest,' said Chrissie, ‘I was so fucking wired with adrenalin and anger, it was only when I got off the Chinook back here that it really began to smart.'

‘Smart, my arse,' said Phil. Lee noticed the dopey expression on his face. So Phil was equally potty about Chrissie. He wanted to be happy for her, but all he could feel was an unbelievable sense of sadness. ‘You almost passed out,' finished Phil.

‘Exaggerating again,' said Chrissie, grinning.

The sadness and self-pity Lee was feeling was suddenly too much. He didn't need to see how loved-up Chrissie was. He couldn't blame her for being with Phil, and he was just being selfish – wanting what he couldn't have – but he'd had enough. Their banter didn't involve him. He wasn't a part of this conversation, he didn't have the energy to keep up, and it didn't matter what his feelings were for Chrissie, because nothing was ever going to happen between him and her – the way she obviously felt about Phil had seen to that. And of course he himself was in the wrong for even thinking about Chrissie when he had Jenna waiting for him.

But if she wasn't around…

And suddenly he realised that he actually resented Jenna's presence. He blamed that on the drugs too; the drugs had to be really messing him up, because to feel like that about his own wife was bang out of order.

‘Come to tell me I had it coming to me? Because that's what the wives around here think,' said Jenna, leaning insolently against her door jamb and staring hard at Maddy.

‘No… I… not at all,' said Maddy, utterly disconcerted. This wasn't what she expected, although she wasn't quite sure what she
had
expected; someone distraught and worried, maybe. ‘I made you this.' She thrust a heavy carrier bag at Jenna. ‘It's a cottage pie. I thought it might come in useful. I don't expect you feel much like cooking, with so much shit happening, what with Lee and everything.' Jenna still just stared at her. ‘And you need to eat. There's enough here to see you through the weekend,' she ended.

To Maddy's surprise and amazement Jenna stood back and invited her in.

‘Sorry,' said Jenna, even more surprisingly. ‘It's just the other wives have been a bit shitty. I was expecting more of the same.'

And why wouldn't they be? thought Maddy, but she kept her views to herself. ‘I'm sorry,' she said. ‘Maybe you're just being sensitive, because you're in a bad place. Because of Lee.'

‘And maybe my neighbours are bitches, who only want to see the worst in me,' Jenna snapped back.

‘Oh, hon.' She put her arm around Jenna's shoulders. ‘Would a cup of tea help?' She felt Jenna shrug her off, so she pushed past her into the kitchen so she could dump the pie. She forced herself not to check the floor for discarded men's underpants as she plonked the cottage pie on a counter and grabbed the kettle.

‘Tea?' she asked. Jenna nodded. ‘Tea bags?' Jenna pointed to a canister near the kettle. ‘Mugs?' Wordlessly, Jenna fished two out of a cupboard and handed them to Maddy.