The Songbird and the Soldier (12 page)

“Do you think he’ll be happy?” Sam asked.

Kate looked down for a second. “I hope so. I like him a lot.”

“Wow. Here comes Chloe. Have you told her?”

Kate shook her head. “Don’t say anything yet.”

The following night, Dean was back again. Sam answered the door and was surprised to see him standing there. He said he had just dropped by to check that she was all right after she had seemed so peaky the last time they’d met and Sam invited him in from the doorstep. He sat down and made every attempt to be friendly. He asked after her teaching and about her friends and to Sam, things had definitely eased between them. He obviously wasn’t bearing a grudge and for that Sam was grateful. She asked him about Afghanistan and how it had been. Dean was pretty vague about the details, but she got the definite impression that all was not rosy within their group; some problem with a weak link was all he would say.

Dean noticed her bracelet and Sam fiddled with it uncomfortably. “It was from Andy,” she said.

Dean nodded thoughtfully. “Yeah, that fits. Always flash with his cash, that one. Just be careful, yeah? I wouldn’t want to see you hurt, Sam. I care about you too much for that.”

By Saturday night Sam thought she was starting to get a grip on things and was feeling a little better as she rode the bus into town to get to her friend’s hen party. It was Georgie’s, one of the other young teachers from her school, and Sam was meeting them at the Dairy Maid, before hitting the nightclub later on. The end of term was in sight and the teachers were beginning to feel the holiday spirit. Not long to go and the pressure would be off and they could all put their feet up for the summer holiday.

Georgie was decked out in full Barbie Princess accessories and already incredibly drunk. The obligatory veil kept falling off her head and getting caught up in the sparkly earrings and wand, but that wasn’t going to prevent her from having a good time.

The giggly party of slightly drunk women staggered en masse down the road to the nightclub just after ten. They collapsed into a corner, spreading themselves out over several seats, and ordered in another round of drinks. The DJ welcomed the bride-to-be over the speaker system and a big cheer went up from their end of the room.

Before long the club was heaving and dry ice began to hiss out across the dance floor. The girls found themselves having to shout to each other to be heard and a well-worn pathway became etched out between the dance floor and the bar.

Sam realised she had had enough to drink when she stumbled up a step and was caught by one of the friends. She decided it would be better to slow things down for a while and start to sober up. Rebecca, one of the party, tried to tell her something on the dance floor, but Sam couldn’t make out what. She cupped her hand to her ear. “What?” she hollered.

“That guy over there is checking you out,” she said.

Sam looked around. “What guy?”

“Over there. In the white shirt.”

Sam looked harder and then she saw him. Standing at the edge, watching her carefully, was none other than Dean. She turned back.

“You’ve gone bright red. Do you know him? He’s gorgeous.” Sam nodded. “Watch out. He’s coming over.”

Sam’s heart was thumping. She excused herself from the dance floor and made her way back to the safety of her group on the other side. But she was mistaken in thinking he would be so easily put off.

“Is anyone sitting here?” he asked, and a million fluttering eyes suddenly turned on him. Of course none of them minded in the least and Sam shrank back as far as she could.

The man was relentless. He charmed and flattered every woman at that table and soon no teacher was left on the dance floor. He never talked to Sam directly, but he held her eyes more than most and Sam was reminded of why she had fallen for him so many years ago. He stayed with them a lot throughout the rest of the evening, excusing himself occasionally to return to his friends and as the night went on Sam found herself growing more and more curious as to who else he was with and why he didn’t want to talk to her.

Later on, as the night wore thin, she lost track of him altogether and decided to go looking for him herself.

As nonchalantly as she could, Sam wandered through the crowds, sticking to the dark spaces as much as possible. Completing a circuit with no sign of him at all, she decided she must have missed him somewhere. Sam refused to consider why she felt she needed to find him, she just did and that was all there was to it. So she began to double back, retracing her steps.

She was half way round when a hand reached out and grabbed her wrist, pulling her briskly to the side of the room. Dean held her against him, his aftershave wafting down around her and his warm chest within inches of her face. He let her pull away, still holding on to her wrist. He was well groomed, with a confident easy smile and in all that, he hadn’t spilled a drop of his drink. “Looking for someone?” he asked.

“No,” she lied.

“I don’t believe you.”

Sam was convinced her face must be crimson.

“You’ve been watching me all night,” he said.

“I have not.” Sam was mortified. “Besides, that’s rich coming from a guy who’s spent half his evening harassing my friends.”

“Harassing?” Dean smirked. “I think someone wanted a bit of ‘harassment’ herself. You’ve been looking for me. I was watching you.”

“No I haven’t. I–.”

“Yes you have. You’re a bloody awful liar, Sam, and an even worse spy.”

Sam tried to wriggle her wrist free.

“Oh no you don’t,” he said holding on tightly. “I didn’t put up with all of those giggling plain Janes over there for nothing, Sam Litton. I wanted to see you.”

Sam’s insides battled to escape as her nerves began to jitter. “I want you, Sam. And you want me too. You know you do. That’s why you haven’t been able to take your eyes off me. Even now you’re imagining what it would be like to press yourself up against me right here, right now.”

Sam was outraged. “I am not!”

Dean smiled. “No? Pity, because I was.” He leaned down and kissed her.

For a moment Sam fought to escape his clutches. She turned her face away and wriggled to free herself from his grasp, but her strength was no match for his and he seemed to know exactly where on her neck to kiss to weaken what little resolve she possessed after the amount she had drunk. “I want to feel your body against mine, Sam,” he said, his hot breath against her ear. “Kiss me, Sam. Put me out of my misery and just kiss me.” He guided her face to his and their lips were reunited.

Sam felt as if she had been drugged. Her body obeyed, sinking into the kiss, pressing up against him, but mentally she fought hard to set herself free. “Stop it, Dean. I can’t. I told you.” She caught her breath.

“The Prof? You’re being faithful to the Prof? That’s rich.” He gave a short laugh. “If it was the other way around I’m damn sure he wouldn’t be hanging around waiting for you.”

“You’re wrong.”

“Am I? Who’s known him the longest, then, Sam? Tell me, how much of his R and R did he actually spend with you?”

“A week.”

“A week. And the rest?”

“With his mum and dad.” Sam was feeling guilty about the kiss and resented this line of questioning.

“The Prof? Spend a week with his parents? Yeah, right! I rest my case. If he was any good at his job I could let it go, but he’s bloody dangerous. Lives depend on him out there and if he was anyone other than a Garrington he would never have made sergeant by now.”

Sam was angry. She started to pull away, but Dean caught her hand again.

“I’m sorry. That was out of order. I’ve been drinking. Forget I said anything. Really, Sam. Don’t let me ruin your night.” He let her go and she hurried back round to be with her friends, but she did not enjoy the rest of the evening, merely sank herself in the drinks that were freely flowing.

At five o’clock the following morning, Sam awoke feeling distinctly fragile. Light was already pouring in around the one good pair of curtains she owned. She rolled over and groaned. Why did she always wake up so early when she had a hangover? At that moment she would have given anything to be one of those lucky people who could just sleep through the whole thing. She thought about the night before. Oh yes, Dean. She had kissed Dean. No, surely he had kissed her? But she hadn’t put up much of a fight, had she? She groaned again. What the Hell had possessed her to go looking for him like that? It had been asking for trouble. She pulled her covers up over her head to hide. It must have been the drink, she thought. And in her defence, she had put a stop to it pretty quickly.

As she cowered beneath the covers, hiding from the trials of her complicated life, words began to filter through her hazy mind. She pushed them away. Two paracetamols and a glass of water later, Humphrey wandered over, obviously disturbed by the noise so early in the morning. Sam let one arm dangle out of the bed and stroked him feebly. Humphrey’s tail wagged eagerly, but to no avail and in the end he wandered back off to his bed.

A gruelling hour crawled passed and still Sam lay there, waiting impatiently for either her painkillers to kick in, or sleep to come. What had Dean been saying about Andy? He had as good as said he was no good at his job and endangering the lives of the other men out there. How could he say such a thing? And to imply Andy would never be faithful to her… well… that just wasn’t true. But he did have a point about Andy spending a week with his parents. He had also taken quite a few calls, from whom? She had never thought to ask while he was with her. One he had said was his parents, but then she only had his word for that. God, what was she thinking? Andy was hers. It would be too cruel to play with her heart like that and not feel the same way she did and he was not a cruel man. But what did she know? She had only really known him a week. Tears began to slip from her eyes. She tried to remember their time together, but the memories were distorting. Her beautiful man was slipping away and Sam felt the shadow of desolation cross her path. Her insides lurched and she leapt out of bed, desperate to reach the bathroom before she heaved.

On Wednesday evening, Kate arrived at Sam’s house. Chloe had given her a lift across town on her way to the gym. Sam let her in and knew immediately that there was good news to be had. Kate was shining as brightly as the sun. Sam talked as she poured Kate some mint tea and then settled her on the beanbag and took up position on the futon opposite her.

“Well?”

“Well what?” Kate asked, fooling no one as to her delight.

Sam gave her a look. “You’re busting to tell me something. Is it about Spike?”

“He rang!”

“When?”

“Today. I had to come round and tell you.”

“And?”

“He’s over the moon.”

Kate was so excited that Sam couldn’t help but be excited too. “Kate, that’s wonderful news. I’m so pleased for you.”

“I’m so happy. He’s going to be with me and we’re going to have this baby together, like a proper family.” Tears began to streak mascara down Kate’s face. Sam went over to Kate and hugged her. Then, when Kate was composed again, she fetched a tissue for her eyes and enquired about how she was actually feeling in herself. Kate complained about her aching bust, but apart from that she said she was fine. And then Kate asked about Sam and Andy.

Sam wasn’t ready to face that whole can of worms just yet. She wasn’t even sure in her own head what was going on with Andy and Dean. All she was knew was that the weight of the worries she was carrying was dragging her down to a place where she didn’t want to be. Andy’s letters had been less fluid since he had returned to Afghanistan, but was that part of being back out there, or something to do with her? Or was she just over-thinking the whole thing? So she just said, “Fine,” and left it at that.

A few days later, Kate rang Sam to tell her Dean had gone back out and that for once he’d seemed less cocky than normal, so things were looking up. Unfortunately for Sam, this message had the opposite effect to the one Kate had expected. Sam asked her if she knew if Dean had got a new girlfriend in tow for his second stint, fishing to see what she could find out. But Kate said apparently not and that he’d got quite shirty with her when she’d teased him. She did say, however, that she had seen on Facebook that he’d been spotted snogging some trollop in Club Seven the previous weekend, but again her reassurances were lost on Sam.

Sam asked who else might know about that and if the source was definitely to be trusted and Kate told her she couldn’t remember quite, but she was pretty sure it was some of the girls from The Patch. On the other end of the line Sam winced and died a little inside.

On Monday evening a letter came for Sam. She picked it up off the mat as she walked in the door and was saddened to realise that she was no longer ecstatic at the sight of it. What she felt now had been spoiled by a strong dose of suspicion and guilt. She took off her things, made herself a cup of tea and then wandered into the living room to sit down and open it.