Soldier No More

'But you're going there now?'

'Yes.' His telephone-holding hand was sweating.

'Excellent!'

'What's excellent about it?' It also occurred to him that Genghis Khan had deliberately kept the good news about Meriel Stephanides to last, either in order not to demoralise him, or (more likely) just for the sheer pleasure of it.

'Her presence confirms the importance of whatever it is they want Audley to do—that is obvious.' Genghis Khan paused in order to let the obvious sink deep into Roche's stomach. 'Do you require assistance?'

Yes—

'No. I haven't even recruited Audley yet.'

'Well, I advise you to do that as quickly as possible—for your own sake. Then we'll see about Mademoiselle Stephanides.

Meanwhile, I will make contact with you tomorrow at 0900, by the south gate of Neuville. I will have further information for you by then.'

Outside, in the sunlight, there was nowhere to go, nowhere to hide.

dummy5

The heat which bounced up around him off the cobbles of the little square didn't warm him at all, it was repelled by the great block of ice inside him.

The more he thought about his situation, the worse it became. Because if Meriel Stephanides was . . . what she was . . . then it would be prudent to assume that the American, Michael Bradford, wasn't what he seemed to be, but something much more dangerous.

He didn't want to think about it. He wanted to run away, but there was nowhere to run away to.

Lady Alexandra was standing beside his Volkswagen, waiting for him. She saw him, and waved energetically. He waved back automatically, glad that she couldn't see his face from that distance. He had all of a hundred yards in which to rebuild a happy holiday smile on it.

IX

'On— bugger!! Now Jilly's bloody egg's broken!' Lexy stabbed at the frying pan, as though it had let her down deliberately. 'And of course I've got everything wrong—I should have done her bacon first, shouldn't I! Oh well, not to worry—she's probably still in the bath—go and see if she's still in the bath, David darling, and if she is then tell her to stay there—'

Roche blinked at Lady Alexandra, and tried to reconcile what he knew with what he was seeing, and opened his mouth and dummy5

shut it again without speaking.

'And has Steffy come back yet? I think I'll throw this egg away and start again—I think I'll throw the bloody lot away and start again! I hope to God the chips are still hot. . . or at least warm—is she still in the bath?'

Roche swallowed. From the way she moved ... or rather, from the way different parts of her moved under the dress, he could swear that she wasn't wearing anything under it.

'—I don't mean go literally and see whether she's still in the bath—I mean, you can . . . because there isn't any lock on the door, I broke it yesterday—but all you have to do is listen through the wall by your ear, that's all—don't lean too hard, or it'll fall down—'

Roche felt the wall tremble against his ear. It was paper-thin, and he could hear Jilly-washing-sounds distinctly through it.

He nodded speechlessly at Lady Alexandra.

'Well, that's all right! Just tell her to go on soaking—tell her there's no hurry—right?'

Roche observed also that Lady Alexandra's face was dirty again, with a black mark down the side of her nose on to her cheek which was presumably a legacy from when she had stoked the boiler for Jilly's bath, after emerging from her own.

She had stoked the boiler, and she had cooked his supper and her own, and she was cooking Jilly's supper—the Lexy Special—in that exquisite dress, which must surely smell dummy5

more of bacon fat and chips than Chanel by now—

(And the Lexy Special was a horrific greasy memory of hunger stemmed, but not satisfied: broken eggs, frazzled bacon and fried bread exploding into fragments, and limp chips congealed into inseparable lumps— ugh!) He turned to the partition wall. 'Jilly?'

'I can hear you. I heard.' Jilly shouted. 'Tell her just egg-and-bacon, no chips . . . And tell her not to incinerate the bacon.'

Lexy was already smiling cheerfully at him when he turned back to her. 'I heard too! They're all just unappreciative of my culinary efforts— all except David Audley, he never complains—he's a gentleman, like you, David!'

'He never complains—' Jilly's voice, deadpan as Genghis Khan's, came through the wall beside Roche's ear, faint but clear '—because his taste has been . . . institutionalised ... by public school. . . and the Army . . . and Cambridge ... so he doesn't know any better.' Splash, splash. 'His stomach. . . is permanently . . . disadvantaged.'

' Jealousy—' shouted Lexy '—will get you nowhere!' She grinned her great wide- mouthed happy smile at Roche.

'Would you like some more chips? Steffy'll never finish this lot now.'

'Steffy . . . knows . . . better!' Splash, splash.

' Shut-up!' Lexy scraped the frying pan into the bucket beside her. 'Would you like