Soldier's Daughters (6 page)

As she left battalion HQ and drove across to the officers’ mess she wondered how the lads in the mess would take to having a woman in their midst. Would she be embraced or shunned? She suspected it would all very much come down to how well she made the effort to fit in. She’d managed it on her REME troop commander’s course but this was a whole other issue.

She found the mess without difficulty – a long, two-storey, neo-Georgian, red-brick building with a sandstone portico. She parked her car and then made her way to the front door to find the mess manager and then her room.

She pushed open the heavy oak front door and went up the two steps into the large entrance hall, her footsteps deadened by the thick maroon carpet. In the middle of the hall was a circular pedestal table with a bowl of flowers in the middle, the scent of the roses just discernible over the smell of damp dogs, Brasso and wax polish. The mess was silent, all the livers-in being at work and the staff, having cleaned and tidied the place, were now, she imagined, in the kitchens, preparing the next meal.

She followed the sound of faint clattering and finally found signs of life behind heavy, double swing doors that issued a gust of delicious-smelling warm air as she pushed them open. Silence fell amongst the chefs and stewards as she poked her head into the kitchen.

‘Sorry,’ she apologised, ‘but I’ve been posted in and I’m looking for the mess manager. I heard voices and was hoping one of you would be able to tell me where to find him.’

The silence continued for a second longer, then a man in chef’s whites stepped forward and said with an East London accent, ‘Posted in? ’ere? You sure? This is 1 ’Erts’ mess.’

As Sam nodded she saw the guys exchange looks.

‘Yes, 1 Herts. I’m the new OC LAD.’

‘Ah,’ said a mess waiter in a white bum-freezer jacket, ‘you’re REME.’

Sam nodded. ‘That’s right,’ she reassured him. ‘Women aren’t planning on trying their luck in the infantry yet!’

The mess staff laughed.

‘If you’d like to follow me, ma’am,’ said the mess waiter.

‘Thank you,’ said Sam.

Behind her she heard one of the staff say, ‘… and thank God for that. Can you imagine what women would be like in the trenches – demanding we all wipe our boots before we entered the dug-outs.’ A louder burst of laughter followed that remark, cut off suddenly as the heavy kitchen door finally closed.

In silence she followed the waiter along the thickly carpeted corridor to a door off the main hall, tucked under the big staircase that led to the upper floor.

The waiter opened the door and stood to one side to let Sam pass. The office was almost filled by a large partner’s desk and a filing cabinet. A sergeant, sitting behind the desk, stood as Sam entered and cast her a puzzled look.

‘I’m Captain Lewis,’ she explained. ‘New posting. Could you show me to my room, please?’

The sergeant’s mouth opened slightly, before he caught himself and shut it quickly. Hadn’t anyone thought that Captain Lewis, REME, might be a woman? They did exist in the REME – had done for years, now.

‘Yes, of course, ma’am. I’m Sergeant McManners, the mess manager. Welcome to 1 Herts.’

‘Thank you, Sergeant.’

They made their way up the wide, shallow stairs to the first floor, where McManners paused. He appeared to be thinking.

‘To be honest, ma’am, seeing as you’re a captain I was going to put you on this corridor with the other junior officers, but given that you’re also a lady I think you might be more comfortable in a field officer’s suite.’

‘But I’m only a captain. And I really don’t think that making special allowances because I’m not a man is the best way to help me integrate, do you?’

‘But, ma’am, if you have a suite, you’ll have your own sitting room. Some of the lads have been known to get quite…’ he paused ‘…rowdy.’

Ah, he thinks I might be some sort of shrinking violet. ‘Honestly, I’ll be fine.’ Sam considered quoting Queen Elizabeth I’s speech about being weak and feeble but having the stomach and the heart of a king. No, a bit too much at this early stage. ‘Please, Sergeant McManners, if I find it’s a dreadful mistake we can re-think at a later date, but, in the meantime, treat me like any other officer.’

‘You’ll never guess,’ said Seb, when he got home that night.

‘Guess what?’ asked Maddy. She put a china ornament she’d unwrapped on the sitting room mantelpiece.

‘Old Ian Abbott’s replacement is a woman. Very young, very pretty and very curvy, according to the mess gossip. That’s going to set the cat among the pigeons. I can’t see some of the old hands in the workshop taking kindly to being bossed about by a woman.’

Maddy raised her eyebrows. ‘Then they’ll have to get used to it. It’s about time some of the army dragged itself into the twenty-first century and realised women are just as capable as men.’

‘It’s still bound to cause trouble.’

‘Why?’ Maddy couldn’t see what the problem might be.

‘Well, stands to reason. Apart from anything else, there’s going to be a single woman living in the mess with all those testosterone-fuelled men.’

Maddy walked across the sitting room, scooped Nathan out of his playpen and carried him into the kitchen, where she posted him into his high chair. Deftly she handed him a breadstick to chew on while she got a glass down for Seb and mixed him a gin and tonic.

‘You not having one?’ he asked as she passed him his drink.

Maddy shook her head.

‘Still feeling under the weather?’

‘Sort of. Sit down, Seb.’

Seb’s eyes widened momentarily as he hooked out a chair from the kitchen table. ‘You’re not ill, are you?’

‘Not ill, Seb. Pregnant.’

‘Pregnant!’

Maddy nodded.

‘But we weren’t trying…’

Maddy shook her head. ‘No, sweetie, we weren’t. But if you remember I fell pregnant with Nate in a heartbeat. We’re obviously super-fertile.’

‘Oh.’

‘Is that it? Oh?’

‘Sorry, sorry, Maddy.’ Seb put down his drink, jumped up and gave Maddy a hug. ‘You’re a clever girl and I love you.’

‘But…’ Since Maddy had done the test after Seb had gone to work she’d worried about how they’d cope financially with two tiny children, and how she’d cope, full stop. Seb hadn’t been exactly hands-on with Nate, and she didn’t think he was about to have a Damascene moment about fatherhood now. She adored him for lots of reasons, but not for his parenting skills.

‘No, no buts.’ He kissed the top of her head. ‘I am so thrilled.’ And he really sounded it.

Maddy put her doubts to one side and snuggled against him. ‘What do you fancy, a boy or a girl?’

‘I really don’t care.’ Seb kissed Maddy’s head again and then returned to his seat, looking rather pleased with himself.

‘At least we can be sure we won’t be moving from here for a while,’ he said, taking a slug of gin. ‘That’s a good thing, isn’t it? As things stand, by the time we have to move again, this next little one will be almost old enough to go to prep school.’

Maddy nodded. She’d long since accepted that she’d be sending her children off to boarding school. ‘Considering this is Nate’s third house and he’s not even a year old, I think not moving for ages is a very good thing.’

‘So,’ said Seb, ‘I was thinking… it might be nice if we invited this new girl over for supper one evening. She might appreciate a bit of female company.’

‘You think?’ said Maddy. ‘Of course, it might be her idea of bliss to have all those blokes to herself.’

‘Maybe.’ Seb didn’t sound convinced. ‘But if she doesn’t, you and she must be about the same age and I can’t see her wanting to hang out with Mrs Notley. From a personal point of view, I don’t think I’d want to be the only bloke living with a couple of dozen women.’

‘So you’re not thinking of indulging in a bit of polygamy and having your own personal harem?’

‘Never. You’re the only woman for me, Mads.’

Maddy smiled at him and blew a kiss towards him. ‘Love you too, hon.’ And she did. Seb might have his faults but she was still besotted by him and couldn’t believe her luck that she was Mrs Seb Fanshaw and had been for almost two years.

Artificer Sergeant Major Williams, Sam’s number two in her little unit, stood in front of her desk. He didn’t look happy.

‘Look,’ said Sam, in what she hoped was a conciliatory tone, ‘Captain Abbott might have had his way of doing things, but I have mine.’

‘With all due respect, ma’am, there was nothing wrong with Captain Abbott’s methods.’

Sam counted to three. ‘Probably. But I am in charge now.’

The ASM stared at her, obviously wishing she wasn’t. ‘I just don’t see how making the men down tools and listen to a speech from you is going to help anyone.’

Sam could feel her shoulders rising up from the tension in her neck. Honestly, he couldn’t be more difficult about her request if she’d told him she expected all of the soldiers to donate a kidney. She forced herself to relax. ‘It’s only going to take five minutes, if that. I want to have a word with them, I want to introduce myself to them, I want to start to get to know them.’ She stared back at him. Why was he being so bloody unreasonable about this? All she wanted to do was have the men under her command gathered together so she could make a short introductory speech just to break the ice. She knew that having a woman as the boss might not sit well with some of the older soldiers, but she hadn’t imagined her right-hand man to take against the concept quite so obviously from the get-go.

The ASM sighed heavily. ‘If you say so, ma’am.’

‘I do.’

He turned and left her office and Sam exhaled slowly. What was his problem? She gathered her notes together and made her way out of her office in the corner of the workshop to where her troops were being gathered together in a rough semi-circle by a bad-tempered Mr Williams.

‘Hello,’ said Sam to the group once they’d all settled down. ‘You all know who I am – that’s the advantage of being the old hands here – but I want to say how much I am looking forward to working with you over the coming months. Mr Williams has spent this morning telling me about the standards you’ve set and the glowing reports achieved in the last few annual inspections. You ought to be justifiably proud of yourselves.’ As she said this she saw a few backs straighten, a few chins lift, and she knew she’d said the right thing. So suck on that, Mr Williams. ‘That tells me that my predecessor, Captain Abbott, ran a really sound operation, and I’ve got my work cut out if things aren’t going to slide. I’d like to think all of you will do your best to help me maintain that benchmark of excellence.’ There were a few nods of assent from her soldiers. She hoped she was making a favourable impression. If Mr Williams was going to continue to make life tricky she didn’t want the rest of the troops automatically siding with him and not her. Sam wasn’t planning on altering anything for some while, or indeed
ever
, if it wasn’t necessary. None of that new-broom malarkey to make a point that this was
her
workshop, tempting though it was given Mr Williams’ attitude. No, she had every intention of watching to see how her team of soldiers meshed together and then tweak, if necessary, in due course – assuming the ASM didn’t stop her.

‘So,’ she finished off, ‘over the next couple of weeks I’d like to have a quick chat with each of you in turn, so I get to know who you all are and so I can put names to faces, but until then I’ll try and leave you in peace to get on with your job. Of course, if any of you want to have a word with me then my office door is always open. Thanks for listening.’

The ASM brought all her soldiers to attention, and Sam nodded her acknowledgement of the courtesy as she returned to her office. After the ASM had dismissed the troops back to their posts he followed her.

‘So,’ said Sam, as she sat down in her office chair, ‘I told you I’d be brief.’

‘Hmm.’ He was obviously still sore about her getting her way.

‘Take a seat. I’d like you to give me the low-down on the men.’ The ASM looked quizzical as he drew up a chair and sat down. ‘Have we got any troublemakers, any problem cases?’ she elucidated.

‘Not problem soldiers as such,’ said Mr Williams.

Sam raised her eyebrows. ‘There’s a
but
coming, isn’t there?’

Mr Williams nodded. ‘Sergeant Armstrong.’

‘Ye-e-es. Want to tell me about him?’

Mr Williams sucked his teeth. ‘His partner, Jenna, is a bit of a minx by all accounts. She was married to a soldier – another one – who picked up an injury in Afghan but when the authorities came to give her the bad news they found Sergeant Armstrong in her bed. So he got posted here to Warminster at the speed of light, but she left her husband and followed.’

Sam managed to keep a straight face at the story, which seemed to come straight out of a soap opera or a French farce. Then she said, ‘Well, no one died and I don’t suppose her ex was too keen to keep her after that.’

‘Ah,’ said Mr Williams, ‘but her ex-husband was with 1 Herts. And now they’re here too.’

‘Oops.’

‘Oops indeed, ma’am.’

‘Does her ex know she’s here?’

‘I have no idea. I’ve checked out who he is and it turns out he’s currently posted to the Catterick training regiment, but a lot of his old mates are still with the regiment and, of course, their wives, who will remember her from the patch. I thought you should be aware of the situation.’

Sam nodded. ‘Do we know what Armstrong thinks of 1 Herts pitching up?’

‘He told me it isn’t a problem. He and his partner don’t live in quarters – they’ve got a flat in town.’

‘Well, if he thinks it’ll be OK, I probably needn’t worry.’

‘No, ma’am.’

‘But thanks for the heads-up. Is that it?’ There was a pause. ‘That’s a “no”, then.’

‘Corporal Blake.’

Sam nodded encouragingly. ‘What’s he done?’

‘That’s the odd thing, ma’am. He’s a model soldier, perfect.’

Sam cocked her head.

‘He’s not like any soldier I’ve worked with before. He’s got a stack of GCSEs, he should have A levels to go with them but he hasn’t.’

‘So? Maybe he wanted to join up because he hated his school.’