Read Online The Soldier's Wife by Joanna Trollope - Free Book Online Page B

think those guns had spent the last six months in the dusty arse end of nowhere.’
    There was a brief pause, and then Paul Swain said lightly, ‘Missing it?’
    Dan looked steadily at his screen. He said, ‘Here they are. Part one orders. And it’s not going to be eight weeks’ leave in one slug. Look. A month, then back here, then another month.’
    Paul Swain came to look over Dan’s shoulder. He grunted.
    Dan said, ‘Probably wise. The lads’ll only blow all their money and then get into trouble.’
    Paul grunted again. He said, ‘I’ve got a farm to see to. I want to take the kids shooting rabbits.’
    Dan turned to grin at him. ‘More jam to make?’
    â€˜Chutney this time of year, Major. I make a first-class chutney, I’ll have you know.’
    Dan looked back at the screen. ‘It’s a rum old cycle to handle, this, isn’t it? Three or four years of being on ops, then relax, then start training, then hard training, then ops again—’
    â€˜That’s what you joined for.’
    â€˜I did. But—’
    Paul Swain waited a moment and then said, ‘Change of gear. Never easy, but never dull.’
    Dan stood up. He said, too forcefully, ‘I just don’t want the unit to lose cohesion. They fight so much better in small groups. I don’t want them all getting scattered on leave.’
    â€˜I see, Major.’
    â€˜I do miss the smell of cordite, though. I love it. I’d wear it as aftershave if I could.’ He moved to the window and looked out. The boys in the gun park had been silently at work with their oil and wadding, and on closer inspection had been clammily pasty with hangovers.
    â€˜Had a good time, Denny?’ Dan had said to one of them.
    The boy paused for a moment. He stood straight. ‘Honking, thank you, suh.’
    Dan smiled at him. He felt an enormous affection welling up and out of him like the warmth from a brazier. ‘Celebrating, were you?’
    The boy risked a smirk. He caught the eye of his mate working on the other side of the gun trails. ‘Completely spangled, suh.’
    Dan smiled again now, just thinking of them. They loved being in a band of brothers; they loved doing what they had been trained to do. It was so important, at all times, not to fail in front of them, not to give them cause to doubt, even for a second, that their very best endeavours would be both noticed and rewarded.
    He had given Gunner Denny a brief nod. ‘Take note of what the sarnt says to you about celebrating. He won’t be wrong. Letting off steam and getting into trouble is the good and bad of getting home.’
    Denny didn’t flinch. ‘Suh.’
    â€˜Dan?’
    Dan turned round. Paul Swain was still standing by Dan’s computer.
    â€˜You wanted to discuss the homecoming parade?’
    â€˜I did, Paul. I do. The CO says medals to be awarded on the polo field. We must get McCormack back for that. And a family day. We must think about that. Family. All that fanfare. OK?’
    Paul Swain smiled. ‘OK.’
    â€˜A few pink jobs in with the blue ones—’
    â€˜I hear you.’
    â€˜Happy?’
    Paul Swain gave a sketchy, slightly mocking salute. ‘Homecoming parade, Major. Medals. Particular attention to the wounded. Family day. Action.’
    â€˜Can you stop the car a moment?’ Dan said.
    Gus pulled the car into a muddy space beside the road, under a scrawny belt of larch trees. ‘You OK?’
    â€˜Yes,’ Dan said. ‘Just – not quite ready to go home.’
    There was a short pause. Gus switched off the engine. ‘Me neither.’
    Dan glanced at him. ‘Anyone there? At home?’
    â€˜Nope.’
    Dan waited.
    â€˜Kids are at school,’ Gus said. ‘Kate is in London. Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, Kate’s in London.’
    Dan said quickly, ‘Come and have supper at ours. Alexa’d love