The next morning, Darren deposited flowers, plants, bread, casseroles and eggs up by the back door of the farmhouse, all messages of hope and support from the village. He also delivered an array of the national newspapers. The stricken helicopter crew had made all the headlines and it was a weird, sick feeling for Nell, Gabby and Charlie.
Simon had rung first thing that morning, and assured Gabby that there was an alert and concentrated search going on to find the crew of the helicopter. There had been no intelligence regarding the capture of any British soldiers.
‘Let’s hope today brings us good news, Mrs Ellis.’
Charlie came in from milking. ‘I can’t lie in bed. I’m better doing what I always do.’
They spread the papers out over the kitchen table and read them all with a sense of terrible unreality.
HELICOPTER CREW SHOT DOWN ON RESCUE MISSION IN IRAQ
HELICOPTER CREW MISSING FEARED CAPTURED
Charlie read slowly, trying to understand what Josh had got himself into.
‘The danger of this “forgotten war” being waged daily in the skies over Iraq was dangerously highlighted by yesterday’s downed helicopter containing a crew of four British servicemen taking part in “Operation Thunderbird”, a multiservice operation.’
Nell was skimming because she could hardly bear to read. It seemed a military spokesman had refused to discuss rumours that a covert operation involving an SAS undercover unit was involved, and that the Lynx had been on its way to pick them up.
She glanced at Gabby, then down at the page. Gabby was reading intently.
‘The fear is that if any of these pilots are captured by Saddam’s forces we will have to face the spectre of them being paraded and beaten through the streets of Baghdad. The Foreign Office were quick to make clear that British pilots fly over Iraq with UN sanction and any capture of British servicemen will be viewed as an act of aggression …’
‘Lovie …’ she said gently, ‘it also says that the capture of any service personnel under the auspices of the UN will have grave political repercussions … I am sure, Gabby, the Iraqis won’t risk an international incident.’
But Gabby’s eyes were still riveted to the acres of newsprint. ‘As part of a covert operation these soldiers would receive little mercy from Saddam’s men.’
There it was in black and white, not someone else’s son, but theirs. Gabby turned the newspaper so Charlie could read it.
‘The British soldiers will be out there, isolated and hiding in the heat of the day and moving at night when the temperatures plummet. They will all have been trained for such an eventuality as being shot down over hostile territory, and could be making for some arranged point for rescue. But unlike SAS officers they will not have had extensive survival training. Each day that passes diminishes their chance of rescue and increases their chance of capture …’
‘Enough!’ Charlie jumped to his feet and gathered the papers up and placed them in a pile on the table. Nell went to make more coffee. Charlie touched Gabby’s shoulder.
‘What are you going to do today? Will you be all right if I go out? I can’t sit by the phone, Gab, I’ll go mad.’
Gabby, in a daze, looked up at him. ‘I’m OK. I’m going to wash some of Josh’s sweaters. I have to stay by the phone, Charlie, I have to, but you go out, it’s pointless two of us waiting. Don’t turn your phone off, and keep within range for the mobile, please.’
‘Of course I will. I’m going to go up to the barley field and then I’ll be in the office. It will take me minutes to get back home. OK?’
Nell walked out into the yard with him. ‘Keep faith, Charlie. I won’t leave Gabby. Try and keep occupied.’
Charlie looked down at her. ‘It’s so bloody real when you see it in print, Nell.’
‘I know,’ Nell said, ‘I know, lovie.’
She turned and saw Elan and John Bradbury walking down the lane.
‘Could you do with some company, some moral support, or are we imposing? If we are, we’ll disappear, you know us well enough …’
Nell burst into tears. The whole situation suddenly seemed insupportable and she had never been so glad to see anyone in her life.
The day was hot and they opened the French windows to hear the phone and sat in the little walled garden. Gabby saw how hard Nell had been working in there while she had been in London and was guilty that she had not noticed before. She kept looking at the phone, moving it slightly in case she had not replaced it properly. The radio was next to them so that they could listen to the hourly bulletins.
Josh’s sweaters were soaking in the old scullery, but Gabby had forgotten them, and Nell, when she went back inside, rinsed them and hung them on the dryer. At lunchtime Gabby rang Simon, desperate for news, but there was none.
The day crawled, the heat pressed down, and Nell and Elan made jugs and jugs of iced tea. Charlie came in at lunchtime. Alan had been right; he kept finding people trespassing on his land and was infuriated. The only positive aspect was the press were busy with eclipse stories and seemed to have left them alone so far.
Nell had cobbled salad and ham together and everybody tried to eat something, except for Gabby. She went inside and read the papers all over again. Folded them obsessively into the right creases.
By six o’clock there would be some news, they were all sure of it. But there was none. Then Simon rang to warn her there was a rumour, but it was only a rumour, that two British soldiers had been picked up and were on their way back to Kuwait.
John Bradbury left at four. He was going to say an Anglican Mass for the missing soldiers in the village church and afterwards the bell-ringers wanted to peal.
Dusk came. Charlie and Outside Dog had seen the cows back to the fields and the birds sat up in the small cherry tree singing their evening hymns. The bells rang out suddenly into the still evening and Gabby, Nell and Charlie stood and listened to them in the garden at the farm, and for the first time Charlie turned his face to the fields and wept.
How did you bear it if something terrible happened to your son? How did you bear it? Knowing each morning you woke that your only son died so far from you.
Gabby turned to the sea. Small, becalmed white sails dotted the horizon. Over the fields came the poignant and dramatic sound of those bells, filling the air, making people stop in their tracks, chilled at the ancient sound of warning. Gabby thought of the bell-ringers eagerly giving up their time, ringing out with all the heart they could muster because it was the only way of showing the Ellises up at the farm that they were not alone; there was always hope. Gabby was touched and humbled by the solidarity and kindness of it.
Standing in the garden she had a sense again of the reason she had wanted to stay here all those years ago. Something she had perhaps taken for granted. The comfort of being part of a place, part of the land and a community that dug in close to its own when anything threatened a part of them. Gabby supposed this was how people got through; when tragedy struck they had to turn to each other. The sea had taken so many, how could the people here not understand what Gabby, Charlie and Nell were going through? Whole generations of fishing families had been lost in one night.
Elan put supper together from the array of dishes that had arrived on the doorstep. Gabby was talking to Simon on the phone and Charlie was sitting at the kitchen table, watching something on the television which he was obviously not taking in. Elan heard Outside Dog barking and saw a man climbing the fence in the corner of the top field. He whipped outside and intercepted him before he got into the yard.
‘You are trespassing.’
‘Are you Charlie Ellis?’
‘I am not. Will you please leave before I call the police.’
The man got out a card. ‘Look, I’m not a weirdo. I work for the News of … I just want to offer my condolences and to ask how it feels … to have your son as a hostage …’
‘I suggest you leave now before I clobber you one. I don’t know how you lot sleep at night …’
‘Now, come on, I’m …’
‘I don’t care who the hell you are …’
‘All I want is five minutes …’
He stopped as Charlie came out of the kitchen. Charlie was much bigger than Elan and Shadow was with him making a low threatening warning in her throat. Charlie unleashed Outside Dog and then went on walking towards the man with the two dogs each side of him eager and growling nastily.
The man started to back away. Charlie said softly, ‘If you are not out of here in one minute I swear I will set both these dogs on you.’
The man turned and started to move away quickly. Charlie rang the police car at the bottom of the lane. Darren was off-duty but the copper inside was waiting for the unlucky reporter when he arrived.
‘Well done,’ Elan said to Charlie.
‘You spotted him. Right, you two dogs can stay out here, on guard.’
They went back into the house and said nothing to Nell and Gabby and the second day crawled to an end.
From somewhere behind them comes a screamed order. They are lifted roughly to their feet, blindfolded and made to walk. The men holding them argue incessantly as they jerk and pull Josh and Andrew along.
They reach a village – they can hear chickens and children – then suddenly they are thrown inside a small hut. Their blindfolds are taken off but their hands left tied behind them. The bare room is about six foot by twelve with a grille in the door.
Both men know straight away these are only ordinary Iraqis who have little idea what to do with them, but it will not be long before the arrival of the militia who will know exactly how to extract information.
This is when I find out how brave I am, Josh thinks. He turns to look at Andrew but his throat is so dry he cannot form words.
‘Let’s hope the other two made it,’ Andrew mutters. ‘You OK, Josh?’
Josh nods solemnly. ‘Never been better, Andrew.’
They grin at each other wryly.
The door is opened and they are pulled outside. A small group of villagers come and stare at them with hostile faces. All men. One spits at their feet.
‘American! Pah!’
‘British,’ Andrew says. ‘We are British.’
They are quickly surrounded and pushed and poked with sticks, from one Arab to another like a rough playground game organized by the school bully. They begin to chant and the chant gains momentum. Josh feels sick. They are revving each other up and as the punches grow harder and harder both men know that if they fall they have had it.
Josh, giddy, wills himself not to stumble. Charlie used to frighten him silly with his warning about pigs: ‘If you fall in a pigpen they will savage and eat you.’
There is the sound of a Land Rover and an Arab festooned with armoury and headdress leaps out and shouts at the men. The punching and shouting stops immediately and the group grows ominously quiet.
The Arab looks at them both and then indicates they are both to be taken back to the derelict building. Ten minutes later two dirty mattresses are thrown through the door. Then a chair. Their hands are untied. The man comes and sits on the chair back-to-front and both Josh and Andrew have a mad desire to laugh. He has obviously seen too many old Westerns. He has a bottle of water and two glasses. He politely pours water and hands the glasses to Josh and Andrew who drink greedily. This is Mr Nice Guy.
‘Who are you?’ he asks in English.
‘British helicopter pilots.’
‘Why you here?’
‘Our helicopter was damaged by Iraqi fire; we had to make an emergency landing.’
‘What you doing in helicopter?’
‘Maintaining the no-fly zone.’
‘I say what you do?’
‘Just observers. We are observers.’
‘I think spies?’
‘No, we are both army pilots, not spies.’
The sweat trickles down Josh’s face and into his eyes.
‘You?’ the man says. ‘Why you afraid if only pilot?’
‘I’m not afraid, I’m hot. It is very hot in here.’
Andrew says quickly, ‘We are pilots with a damaged helicopter, that is all we are. Look at how we are dressed.’
The man stands up. ‘We will see,’ he says and leaves abruptly.
Josh crawls onto the filthy mattress and closes his eyes. Andrew follows slowly.
‘What are you thinking?’ Josh asks without opening his eyes.
‘I am thinking, Josh, we must take any chance to escape. There was something odd about that guy. Something not quite right.’
Night comes and they are left alone. They have been given water and inedible dry biscuits. They hear the guard outside coughing and spitting, and he keeps them awake twiddling the knobs of his radio. There is a constant coming and going of vehicles and an air of tension.
Both mattresses are full of lice and they lie, itching and scratching, unable and unwilling to sleep.
Their guard stops twiddling his radio or cleaning his gun and peers through the grille every now and then to see if they have mysteriously disappeared.
Josh and Andrew realize he has tuned into the BBC World Service, probably by mistake. As they crane to listen they are horrified to realize that their guard must be listening to the eager imagination of a journalist describing with relish the various gruesome torture and treatment Saddam and his henchmen might inflict on any captured servicemen. He also speculates on the feelings of the missing servicemen if they have been captured, and what could be happening to them right now.
‘Fucking idiot,’ Andrew mutters.
‘Arsehole,’ Josh agrees. ‘Let’s hope the guy outside doesn’t understand a word of English.’
Both men vow to find the journalist if they make it back home.
There is a flurry of activity outside and the door is thrown open. They are ordered outside and into the Land Rover. They are surrounded by nervous Iraqis waving their guns about and shouting. Something seems to have unnerved them.
Is this it? Josh thinks. Are they going to be driven to Baghdad to be interrogated? Or killed somewhere where no one will ever find their bodies?
Gabby and Nell were watching the midday news and suddenly clutched each other in excitement.
‘There is an unconfirmed report that two of the British soldiers from the stricken helicopter shot down over Iraq have been rescued. We will bring you news of the situation as it comes in.’
The phone rang and Gabby reached for it, her heart pumping. It was Simon. She felt giddy and breathless.
‘Gabrielle? Are you watching the news?’
‘Yes.’
‘We have an unconfirmed report that two British soldiers have just been airlifted out of Iraq by an American helicopter crew and are on their way to the American air base in Turkey. Until they reach the safety of the base we cannot announce or confirm their names. Stay by the phone and I will ring you as soon as I know.’
‘Thank you. Thank you.’
The officer’s voice was cautious. ‘Gabrielle, it might not be Josh.’
‘I know. I know it might not, but it’s hopeful isn’t it …? If they’ve found two the others could be picked up any time … couldn’t they?’
‘Yes, they could. I will ring you as soon as I hear anything.’
Gabby turned to Nell. ‘Good news! Two soldiers from the helicopter have been airlifted out and are on their way back to the American air base in Turkey.’
They looked at each other, suddenly sure that it was going to be all right. Nell said quietly, ‘When will we know whether it is Josh?’
‘Soon. Simon is going to ring straight back.’
‘You stay by the phone. I’ll go and find Charlie.’
‘Nell, we don’t know yet if it is Josh.’
‘I know, but he will want to be kept abreast.’
Alone in the kitchen, Gabby thought, There are four mothers or wives feeling like I do. If it is Josh, it is not one of their sons. She knelt and stroked Shadow’s ears. The dog placed her paw on Gabby’s knee and licked her cheek, a thing she never did for Shadow was fairly haughty with humans. Gabby smiled, bent to hug the dog … Who says dogs don’t understand?
The phone blared out into the room making her jump. She stood up and grabbed it from the cradle.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Simon said. ‘I am afraid neither of the soldiers was Josh. Gabrielle … are you still there?’
Hope had risen so high and was now so cruelly dashed. The officer on the end of the phone could hear the small desperate sound Gabby was making and felt powerless.
‘Gabrielle, I am so, so sorry. But it is good news, the rescued soldiers will be able to tell us much about the situation and it really does bode well for the safety of the others.’
‘Sorry,’ Gabby managed.
‘Don’t apologize, it’s why I’m here. I wish I could give you better news. I cannot imagine what it feels like …’
His voice was concerned, upset. ‘Are you all right now? Is anyone with you?’
‘Yes, I’m fine, really.’
‘I’ll see what else I can find out and ring you during the day. Ring me with any worries or if you hear anything you want to confirm or discount. Remember the media are not always correct.’
Elan came in, breathless. He had been down to the village for the papers and goodies he knew Gabby might eat.
‘I’ve just met Nell …?’
‘Two of the crew have been picked up, but not Josh, Elan.’
‘Oh, darling …’
Elan dared not touch Gabby. She held her hands up to ward him off, knowing she would dissolve and she must not yet.
‘It won’t be long now, Gabby, I am sure of it … Look, I’ve bought straw bugs and fruit so I can make you a fruit salad.’ He pulled them out of the bag. ‘They will slip down your throat, you won’t even notice …’
Gabby smiled, ‘I’m so glad you’re here, Elan.’
Elan kissed the top of her head. ‘These days will pass and seem a distant dream, darling. They will.’
He began to unpack the rest of his bag.
‘It is rather a treat to be close enough, just, to walk to the village. Now I’m old I miss that … I’m so forgetful. Gabby, so many people have sent their best wishes. I met John, too, he is coming up later. Prayers are being said in all the village churches and in Truro cathedral.’
‘Josh would be amazed.’
‘He would indeed.’
Elan went on talking and Gabby was grateful. She could not listen for long, could not concentrate even on the papers. She opened them up. It was so odd to see Josh’s name in print. It was all so speculative. Why were there always so many experts?
Gabby folded the paper away. ‘I’m just going to my workroom, Elan. I want to see what is on the Internet.’
‘Is that wise?’ Elan turned from the sink where he was washing fruit.
‘It gives me something to do. If the phone goes I’ll answer it in there.’
As Gabby switched on her computer her incoming e-mails came up. Lucinda. Various people she had worked for. The curator of the National Portrait Gallery. Mark.
Gabby looked at that familiar e-mail address and trembled. She opened all the others and their messages touched her. She wanted to open Mark’s e-mail so badly it hurt. She imagined what it would be like for her if he was going through something bad and he shut her out. Yet to touch that button would be a betrayal to Charlie and to Josh.
She e-mailed Lucinda, knowing she would pass her message on. By the time she had been on the Internet and printed stuff off for Charlie and Nell to see, there was a reply from Lucinda.
Dearest Gabby,
So relieved to have your e-mail. WE have been so worried about you. Just know WE are thinking about you night and day, do not feel alone. Two soldiers are out and it will be Josh soon. Hang on to that. Know too that we are both here any time. I wish I could find the words to let you know how much we both care and we are thinking of you every moment.
With love,
Lucinda xx
Gabrielle sniffed and replied: ‘Thank you. Your e-mail means a lot.’
The phone was silent, all day it was silent, and when she could bear it no longer and rang Simon, he said gently, ‘I was just going to ring you to see if you were all right. You have not rung all day.’
‘I was trying not to bother you.’
‘Then don’t. Ring as much as you like, OK?’
‘OK. Simon, there is no news, is there?’
‘I am afraid it is very silent. We have heard nothing.’
‘Is that bad?’
‘No. It can be for a number of security reasons. Believe me, there will be a lot of activity going on behind the scenes. We have to be patient.’
‘Yes.’
‘Goodnight.’
‘Goodnight, Simon, thank you.’
Another day ended with Josh missing. Gabby, held in like a spring, was unsure how much more she could bear.