He slid to a halt on his knees beside Jack’s horrend ously mutilated body, aware that if by some miracle Jack was still alive he would not live long, not out here, miles from a hospital. There was a medic pack back at the hide but it would be of pitiful use against these injuries. He put a hand to Jack’s throat, searching for a pulse, but there was none.
Stratton remained motionless beside his friend, barely aware of the dune buggy tearing across the desert towards him, until something in his subconscious let out a warning cry.
He jumped to his feet, took out his pistol and fired it towards the buggy, the bullets striking the ground either side of it.
The buggy came to a halt and Seaton climbed out, leaving Smiv at the wheel.
‘Mines,’ Stratton shouted.
Seaton instantly realised what had happened. He glanced around the immediate area, then back at Stratton.
Stratton knelt again beside his friend and it was only then that he noticed the little wooden camel on the ground next to Jack. He picked it up and held it as memories of their times together swept through his head. Then, suddenly, he could see Sally’s face as she heard the news. And then he thought of poor Josh.
Stratton heard his name being called and looked around at Smiv who was standing in the vehicle and shouting as loud as he could.
‘Do you want a chopper?’ Smiv repeated.
Stratton understood what he meant. The chopper could hover feet off the ground while Stratton lifted Jack inside. But there was no need for that now. He would carry his friend back to the hide, retracing his footsteps, and even though there were still dangers in doing that he did not give a damn. He wasn’t about to leave Jack out in this shit-hole for the hours that it would take to clear a route wide enough for a vehicle to get to them.
He signalled a negative response that relayed the worst. Seaton watched as Stratton crouched down, picked up Jack’s body, and walked away.
4
Sally sat alone in her kitchen at the dining table, wearing a black dress and staring through unfocused eyes at a pile of sympathy cards and letters, most of them from members of Special Forces units around the world.
She was numb, and unhappier than at any time in her life. Her world had been thrown on its ear and it was only in the last couple of hours, since Jack’s ashes had been poured onto the gently lapping waters of Poole Harbour from a jetty on the Hard, the landing point used by the SBS down the road from their headquarters, that she had begun to think beyond this day. She was surprised by how clearly she could suddenly see the way ahead once she turned her attention to it and how obvious it was what she needed to do. She wondered if the clarity was some kind of illusion but her plan, which was arguably extreme, was in character and she would stick with it unless a better one presented itself.
The doorbell rang but Sally didn’t move other than to blink her red-rimmed eyes. She didn’t want to speak to anyone else that day. The funeral had been bad enough. It was the small talk that was so frustrating. She’d hated the colonel’s eulogy, going on about how great Jack was. She knew that better than anyone but all it did for her was to prolong the pain. There was nothing more to say as far as she was concerned. Jack was dead, gone from her life for ever and her son was fatherless. Those were the cold facts and although she would miss him terribly nothing would bring him back.
Josh had been quiet during the ceremony but otherwise normal until he saw Smudge with tears rolling down his face. Then he started to cry and so did she. It was horrible and she couldn’t wait to get home and be alone.
The doorbell went again. Sally got up and walked to the window but the visitor was out of sight in the small alcove. She wondered how long they would keep pushing the bell before they got the hint and went away. Then, as if he had heard her thoughts, Stratton stepped backwards into view and looked at her. She would never have been so rude as to wave anyone away once they had made eye contact but Stratton was probably the only person she would genuinely welcome inside. He was different and practically family, away all the time, it seemed, but when he was home he always came to visit and always had a gift for Josh who loved him.
She went into the hall and opened the door. Stratton stood looking at her, wearing a dark suit and looking unusually tidy.
‘Why aren’t you at the mess with everyone else?’ she asked, forcing a smile.
‘I was on my way … Can I come in? I won’t stay long.’
Sally stood back to let him in.
Despite their close relationship he felt awkward as she closed the door behind him. It was a different world inside the house now and Sally was a different person now that Jack was gone. As she stared at him it was as if his presence had finally broken the dam she had built in her heart. Her expression changed suddenly as the tears began to well up in her eyes. She fell into his arms and sobbed like a child.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’ve been trying to brave it out all week but I can’t any more.’
‘It’s okay,’ Stratton said, feeling uncomfortable with the closeness. It was this kind of emotional contact that he had difficulty with. Whenever he indulged it felt insincere though it was not. It was the physical display that he had trouble with. That had always been the main problem behind his unsuccessful relationships with women. Sharing this moment with Sally should have been different, it should have been natural despite the circumstances. But it was not.
She pulled away as if sensing his discomfort. ‘Right. No more tears,’ she said, wiping her eyes and heading back into the kitchen. ‘I’ll put the kettle on.’
Stratton followed, wanting to say something to comfort her, but he couldn’t think of anything intelligent. Not that it would have made much difference. Sally was a tough and stubborn woman and would do things her own way, even more so now that she was without Jack’s soothing common sense.
Stratton sat on one of the stools at the island breakfast bar and watched her make the tea. His gaze wandered around the room, to the cards on the table and the toy basket in a corner. ‘Where’s Josh?’ he asked.
‘Downstairs, watching TV, but he’s not really watching it. Poor lad. I don’t think it’s truly sunk home yet that his dad’s never coming back.’
‘Maybe he’s tougher than you think.’
Sally hoped that Stratton was wrong, though she feared other -wise. The truth was she didn’t want Josh to be that strong, like his father, or worse, void of emotion like his godfather. She didn’t want him to become a soldier like them. It suddenly dawned on her that her plan was based on that very fear. She didn’t want Josh to grow up around soldiers any more or be influenced by them.
‘We’re leaving Poole,’ she said matter-of-factly, pouring the milk into the cups.
Stratton detected something in her tone that suggested there was more to the statement. ‘Going up north?’ he asked.
‘No. Well, for as long as it takes to sort out things with my mum and dad. Then we’re leaving the country.’
Stratton masked his surprise.
‘We’re going to the States,’ she went on. ‘I’ve got a cousin in California. They’re always asking us over.’
It sounded to Stratton she was talking about more than just a short break.
Sally took a moment to put her thoughts in order while filling the mugs with tea, placing one in front of Stratton. ‘I want to get away. I mean, really away.’
‘Sounds like a good idea,’ he said, saying it for the sake of talking but not sure.
‘I’m going to sell the house,’ she said. ‘My dad’ll take care of everything.’
Stratton sipped his tea. Sally was not one for making idle statements and he did not doubt her sincerity.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said.
‘For what?’
‘Josh won’t be able to see you.’
‘I’ll always visit.’
