George said, ‘I didn’t expect the Scotch bastard to bring a gun.’
‘Does it worry you?’
‘Yeah, if you must know.’
‘Why?’
He didn’t reply immediately. He took alternate nibbles from the sweet biscuit and the cheese. Then he said, ‘You saw I’d given Doris a black eye – I regret that now.’
‘Good, George. You can tell her.’
‘No, I can’t, she won’t come near me. I found one of the Scotch bastard’s sweaters under the bed, so I lost my temper, and stuck my elbow in her eye.’
It was my turn to stay quiet. When I thought that I could conceal the relief I felt I said, ‘I didn’t know.’
‘How could you? In a way I wish it had been you.’
Be careful what you wish for, George.
‘Thanks.’ It was an ironic thanks.
‘No hard feelings, pal, just that you ain’t exactly John Wayne, are you? She’s hardly gonna lay by me an’ think of you, is she?’
‘I suppose not. So what’s the problem with Ean?’
‘It’s obvious, ain’t it? He might try to whack me “by accident” for giving her a smack. He has a stern and unforgiving look an’ a rifle in his hand – I knew men like that in Oklahoma, and stepped wide around them. If I have to make a play I’ll expect you to back me up – I’m paying you, after all.’
‘What if I just try to keep the peace instead?’
‘Even better. I like you Limeys – you’re subtle. I appreciate that.’
‘I’ll just add it to your bill.’ We left it at that.
Half an hour later I caught up with Ean as the others trailed behind.
‘George thinks you might try to kill him because he slapped Doris.’
‘Not a bad idea, but who would pay us if I didn’t bring him off the hill safely again?’
‘I’m just warning you to be careful. He’s the type to get his retaliation in first.’
‘Like the Japs at Pearl Harbor. You’ve got to hand it to them, haven’t you?’
‘Who?’
‘The Yanks: fast learners. Why did he hit the lady?’
‘He found one of your sweaters under their bed.’
Ean stopped to allow the others to come up. He sniffed the air like a gun dog.
He didn’t speak for a ten-beat, and then said, ‘He made a mistake. I lost that a month ago. I’d wondered where it had got to.’
As I dropped back I told George, ‘You were mistaken. He lost that sweater weeks ago.’
I let the others draw ahead, and George fell back with me.
I asked him, ‘Were you out in the war, George?’
‘Sure, Charlie. Air force – jest like you.’
‘Doing what?’
‘Ordnance. I was out on the Marianas . . . Tinian Field.’
After the usual decent interval between two animals trying to size each other up, I asked him, ‘Now I’ve come this far with you, George, would you mind cutting out the bullshit, and telling me what we expect to find up here?’
After another decent interval between two animals trying to size each other up, he told me, ‘A bomb, Charlie.’
Bollocks. George had worked at Tinian Field in the Marianas. A very particular type of bomb had been delivered to Japan from Tinian. It’s what you call being dealt a crap hand.
I had one more chance to square things with Doris. She sat on a boulder and told the others to climb on. George looked doubtful, but I waved him away. Ean looked impatient and Chris looked bored. He was carrying twice as much as the rest of us, but hadn’t broken sweat yet.
‘I’ll stay with Doris,’ I told them. ‘I could do with a breather myself.’
Ean shrugged and said, ‘Don’t go off the track. You can get lost up here – too many little lochans that look all alike to an incomer.’ The mountainside climbed away from us, and the track – which was barely discernible – led between two massive boulders. The men were out of sight within a couple of minutes. I grinned at Doris’s shiner, and asked, ‘How are you feeling?’
‘My face hurts, Charlie. I think the bastard broke a bone.’
She winced as I ran a finger gently along her cheekbone.
‘No, just bruised. You’ll feel OK tomorrow.’
‘It’s not funny, Charlie. Did you just stay behind to gloat?’ But at least her lips had turned up at the ends. I rather admired someone who could see the funny side of a slap in the puss – but I didn’t tell her that of course.
‘No, and we can’t wait long. Do men always fight around you?’
‘It’s happened before.’
‘Come here . . .’ I reached down, and pulled her to her feet. As we began to follow the others I said, ‘I waited with you because I need to know where you fit in. The true story this time . . . not the one about the little brother flattened up against a cliff face.’
She winced. I noticed that particularly.
‘That’s true, in fact. My brother was flying the plane, and it’s why George needs me here.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘There was a law in the US banning US citizens from approaching within a mile of fatal aircraft wrecks . . . war graves. It was to discourage souvenir hunters and grave robbers, I think. Six months ago they relaxed it for relatives of the dead who wanted to visit the places their loved ones died. That’s me. I am George’s excuse for being here – his cover.’
‘Does that law run outside the United States as well?’
‘Not exactly, but
