Chapter Thirty-two

‘WE’RE WORKING THROUGH this faster than I thought,’ said Eugene. ‘You really are amazing.’

Jenny smiled. ‘It’s a long time since anyone called me that.’ Well, anyone except Eugene.

‘Shall we take a short lunch break and go to the village pub?’

‘As long as it’s just a short lunch break.’

‘I’d like to talk to you about something. I mean, something which is nothing whatsoever to do with the defence committee review.’

She picked up the leather handbag and they drove down to the village in the Range Rover. Jenny had never been in one before. Her father had owned a van so as a child she had been used to sitting high above the other traffic. But not in this sort of luxury. The Range Rover smelled nice and its engine was so quiet that they could talk without raising their voices.

They found a table and ordered rapidly.

‘Don’t you want to take a selection from our Sunday carvery, General?’ asked the waitress.

‘Sorry, Mary, not today. We only have time for a sandwich,’ Eugene told her.

Jenny was aware that her presence in the pub with Eugene was attracting a lot of staff attention. They all took the opportunity to stare at her as they passed.

‘Do you often eat here alone?’ she asked.

‘Not so much now that I’m learning to cook more. But I did when Fiona first went. Ate here and probably drank too much. The staff were all very nice to me.’

‘What did you want to talk to me about?’ Jenny asked him curiously.

‘Thank you for being so kind when my divorce papers arrived.’

‘I’m glad you weren’t alone when you got the letter.’

‘I explained to you that Fiona tried hard to clean me out and I only hung on to the house by the skin of my teeth. The house does matter a lot to me. I really felt that if I lost that I’d lost everything.’

‘It’s very big for one person,’ said Jenny.

‘A time will come when it’s too big, but not yet. And it feels full enough when my brother and his family all arrive from Singapore.’

‘It must cost a lot to run.’

‘If I want to stay there, I’m going to have to produce a bit more income. That’s what I wanted to tell you. Believe it or not, I might just be able to do that soon.’

Jenny looked at him. Her heart began to beat faster. She felt as though he was about to say something significant, and significant to her.

‘I’ve been offered a job.’

She stared at him. For some reason, she wanted to object violently.

‘But you’ve already got a job!’

‘Not really. The defence committee is a one-off and we’ve nearly finished with that now. I do a bit of commentary and consulting … but not much.’

‘What sort job have you been offered?’ she asked.

‘It’s in Libya.’

‘Libya!’

‘A nation which is anxious to rebuild itself. The United Nations is sending people out to both observe and advise – in fact, the Libyans have requested it. I’d be advising them on military matters.’

Jenny felt herself plunging into sadness. She didn’t know why his news affected her so deeply but she knew that if she let herself she could cry. So it was important not to let herself.

‘But … when?’

‘I’d start quite soon.’

Men were always going somewhere. They were always leaving. Dave was always piling on to a bus to Brize Norton, or he was off in some big army vehicle going training. And now Eugene was doing the same. She realized one of the things she liked about Eugene was that he was always there, always at Tinnington. And now he was going.

‘Would you have to live in Libya?’

‘I’d spend quite a bit of time there.’

‘Is it safe?’

He laughed. ‘That’s a good one, coming from the wife of a front-line soldier!’

Their sandwiches arrived. Mary took the opportunity to sneak glances at Jenny, grinning broadly.

When she had gone, Jenny asked: ‘Eugene, do you want this job? Or are you just doing it for money?’

He laughed again. ‘Well, money isn’t such a bad motive for doing a job, is it? I certainly wouldn’t do it for no money. It will be both very interesting and very demanding. I simply don’t know what to expect out there but not only will my experience be useful to the Libyans, everything I learn might be interesting for the British.’

Jenny felt desolate. She did not know why. She said: ‘You’re speaking as if it’s all signed and sealed.’

‘It isn’t. Yet. But if I agree to take it, I’ll be away for the best part of six months. My daughter and her family would come and live in the house for that period. My problem, Jennifer, is what to do about you.’

She sighed. ‘My job’s not looking very long-term all of a sudden, Eugene.’ Was anything long-term? Or was life just a series of brief events, full of fleeting relationships and friendships which could be easily snapped?

‘That’s something we should discuss.’

‘Let’s wait until we know for sure that you’re going,’ she said wearily. ‘Today we should concentrate on the report.’

His eyes found hers. He reached out and, just for a moment, stroked her hand.

It was like driving into a swarm of killer bees. Within a few metres of the gates, rounds began to bounce off the Mastiff. Dave’s stomach turned and turned again, like a washing machine. Misgivings about the expedition assailed him as inside his head he heard Sol’s voice, worried and puzzled: ‘We could lose even more men trying to get to him.’

McKinley. Dave focused on him. Didn’t he have two, or was it three, little kids with reddish hair? Dave had a vague memory of coming home to find the living room full of red-haired people. Rose McKinley and her kids were having tea with Jenny. And he remembered seeing Gerry and Rose on the dance floor at the Dorchester. Rose was the shy, smiling type who didn’t say much if she didn’t know you. Now she had a husband without a leg. And if the Mastiff didn’t get there in time, maybe no husband at all.

They were heading due west. In a moment, just before it hit the canal, the track would turn ninety degrees and from there it was a straight line south to the relief party and McKinley. Firing was coming from the south-west at the moment. He swung the Heavy Machine Gun around and let it rip in that direction.

‘That gave the ragheads something to think about,’ said Finny on PRR into the silence.

‘Can you speed up, Lancer Dawson?’ asked Dave. ‘They’re chucking the fuck of a lot at us.’ Had the enemy been silently massing its forces? Or had they been here in such numbers all along? Waiting quietly?

The driver accelerated. ‘Ever wonder if they listen to our radios? I mean, it’s like they knew we were coming.’

Firing started again from the enemy. An RPG exploded a hundred metres to the north-west of them.

Dave did not fire back because both gimpys were suddenly busy from the base.

‘We’re covering you,’ came Sol’s voice on PRR. A voice could be heard swearing near him. Dave was not sure who it was but there was certainly some confusion audible in the background before Sol clicked off.

The enemy was throwing rounds at the Mastiff now, like handfuls of deadly dirt. Dave went back to work on the HMG.

Then Sol came on again: ‘Problem on the second wagon. Can you hang around a bit?’

Lancer Dawson heard this and groaned. ‘We’re not hanging around in this, look!’ At the same moment, an RPG crossed their path before exploding in the desert just behind them, throwing up an ugly storm of stones and dust.

‘See,’ said Lancer Dawson. ‘If I’d been “hanging around” that would have—’

‘The second wagon still isn’t out of the base!’ Dave yelled.

Sol said over PRR: ‘Mastiff’s stalled.’ Voices, possibly those of Tiny and Lancer Reed, could still be heard shouting in the background.

‘Well, restart it!’ ordered Dave.

‘Trying. He’s flooded it or something.’

‘Won’t restart?’

PRR in these conditions was so short range that Dave knew they would very soon be losing contact with the base.

‘We can’t do this alone,’ he said. ‘If the second vehicle isn’t out of the gate in thirty seconds, we’ll have to turn back.’

‘Oh fucking hell,’ said Lancer Dawson. They had nearly reached that point where the track hit the canal and bent round to the south. Dave estimated that the corner was about a quarter of the way to the wrecked vehicle, the casualty and the relief party. A quarter of the way and if they now drove back through their own dust storm they would have covered half the distance and got nowhere. Shit.

‘That bend’s the place to turn,’ said Dave. ‘It’s wide enough.’ The bend had been fattened by a succession of vehicles cutting the corner.

The driver repeated: ‘Fucking hell.’

Dave demanded: ‘Is the other vehicle moving yet?’

‘It’s not starting,’ confirmed Sol. ‘And we’re coming under very heavy fire in here. So are you. We’re still trying to cover you.’

‘OK, we’ll abort. Close the gates until we get there,’ Dave told Sol wearily. So that was the end of their mission. And maybe the end of McKinley too. Rose McKinley’s face appeared inside Dave’s head. She looked quiet and sad. Dave silently apologized to her.

‘I knew that big lanky kid couldn’t drive a Mastiff,’ said Lancer Dawson. ‘I just fucking knew it.’

‘Turn back,’ Dave ordered him firmly. ‘It’s not safe to go on.’

‘It’s not safe to go back,’ Dawson muttered as they approached the bend.

‘Ready with the gates?’ Dave asked Sol. There was no reply. So they were now outside the range of PRR. No radios and now they couldn’t even talk to base. They were alone in the desert without comms, under fire. He suddenly remembered that night extraction exercise on a cold, snowy Welsh landscape. How the signaller had tried to change radio batteries and found he had damaged the spare when he fell on it. Goater. And he had said: ‘We’d never be out in the middle of nowhere without comms in theatre, Sarge. Not ever.’

Dave knew the driver could no longer hear him on PRR but he roared down into the Mastiff: ‘Turn here! And don’t go off this track. Doesn’t matter if it’s a ten-point turn!’

Even if he had heard, Lancer Dawson would not have had time to react or argue. Only Dave was high enough to see the RPG skimming low across the desert towards them and it took him just a split second to know this would be a direct hit.

He grabbed the handles by the hatch and dropped his body instantly down from the top. His actions were so fast that afterwards he could not remember thinking about it and he had barely a memory of doing it. He swung inside the Mastiff just as the world around them lit up. The huge vehicle seemed weightless for a second, rising up before it was flung, with everyone and everything in it, in a violent circle through the air. Dave felt as though he was flying with suicidal force, his body following somewhere behind him. He was still holding on to the handles as the massive vehicle rolled and twisted, hurtling towards the water of the canal. He saw the splash go up like a flash of light. The water seemed so bright he shut his eyes. The Mastiff squirmed for an instant and then it was still and there was silence.