Read Online Armistice by Nick Stafford - Free Book Online Page B

Some wealthy by the look of them, some drunk, one asleep. The majority were manual workers, filling up before work or on their way home. No other women, bar those behind the counter, until the arrival of a mixed party of night owls, slightly the worse for wear. Thewomen didn’t wear wedding bands, and they smoked cigarettes.
    Jonathan seemed much calmer now. He hadn’t wanted to start his story on the way here so Philomena knew no more than before. She had had, then put aside, an idea that whatever Jonathan was about to tell her might involve something Dan may have done—something wrong; bad, even. She momentarily feared that everyone had been concealing from her a misdeed of his, protecting her. Perhaps it would be better not to know. Jonathan arrived with the teas. Thick, brown stuff in tin mugs. He sat opposite her.
    â€œOkay,” he said.
    She noticed that despite the appearance of equilibrium, his hands shook.
    â€œOkay. I’ll start with when I met him. When I met Dan. It’s material, in a way. It helps to explain why I think what I think happened, happened.”
    â€œOkay. I understand,” said Philomena, nodding, not understanding, but humoring him. She just wished he would stop procrastinating.
    â€œI met Dan six weeks before the end of the war, during a skirmish. A bit more than a skirmish, really. We’d been out on a recce when they started lobbing stuff at us, quite big stuff. I got separated and a bunch of them decided to do for me. So I jumped into this crater, well, I fell in, if truth be told. Running along, tripped over, found myself at the bottom of this pit.”
    Philomena noticed that Jonathan’s working voice was almost gone. He was speaking in his native accent.
    â€œSo they see what’s happened and start fanning out around the rim and I’m firing up at them—got one or two—but I didn’t see another one of them taking a bead on me because the first thing I know is that something’s hit me on the head and I’m down and I can’t move. I think what Jerry did was to stand still and aim at me. He just stood still and I didn’t see him. Anyway, I opened my eyes to see if I was dead. I could hear movement but I couldn’t move myself. Jerry who’d stood stock still and shot me had come down to the bottom of the pit—I don’t know why, it was his mistake, don’t know what he was thinking of; he shouldn’t have been thinking at all. I could feel a bit of movement returning to my limbs and I could feel that my pistol was still in my hand so I thought if Jerry hangs about a bit more I might be able to finish him before he finishes me. He guessed what was up and raised his rifle and I was looking right down the barrel and I heard a shot and thought that I really must be dead now but no, Jerry had himself been shot by one of our blokes who had run down the pit, across it, and was now running up the other side. He hadn’t seen me at all so when I yelled ‘Hey!’ he swung around and was ready to shoot me but he saw my uniform and I hoisted my hands up to surrender just in case and screamed ‘I’m alive!’ and he said ‘just.’ And already we knew certain things about each other. Neither of us was posh, we had northern accents, we were both officers. Later we learned that both having been promoted ‘in’t field,’ the only difference between us was that I’d elected to enlist as a private whereas he’d had no choice. But, youknow, we recognized kindred spirits, I suppose. He was Dan, of course.”
    Philomena nodded eagerly, unexpectedly filled with a strange rapture.
    â€œI had quite a lot of blood coming down from where Jerry’s bullet had creased me. It was going in my eyes and I was having to wipe it away but I managed to see another Jerry taking a bead on Dan’s back. He was almost lined up behind Dan but I could just see him at the edge, if you get