Ken McClure - Dust to dust

‘Hundreds of years,’ replied Steven.

Jenny paused to read a signboard. ‘Dev… Devor… Devorgilla.’

‘Devorgilla’s Bridge, nutkin.’

‘Funny name. Why is it called that?’

‘It’s named after a very grand lady named Devorgilla. She lived a very long time ago with her husband, John, here in Galloway. The history books say they loved each other very much. They even had a son who became king of Scotland.’

Jenny seemed thoughtful for a few moments before asking, ‘Do you love Tally very much, Daddy?’

Steven swallowed. He hadn’t seen the question coming. During the course of his last assignment, he had met a woman — Natalie Simmons, a doctor at a hospital in Leicester — whom he’d come to care for and knew could be special in his life. He had brought her up to meet Jenny the week before and thought it had gone well.

‘Would it bother you an awful lot if I did, nutkin?’ he asked, looking for clues in Jenny’s eyes, but she looked down at the ground.

‘Do you love her more than me?’

Steven knelt beside Jenny and cuddled her tightly. ‘I could never love anyone more than you, Jenny.’

Jenny smiled contentedly but then pressed on with her interrogation. ‘If you and Tally get a house together… will I come? Will I have to leave Aunty Sue and Uncle Peter?’

‘What would you like to do?’

‘I think we should all live together. There’s plenty of room.’

Steven smiled at Jenny’s perfect solution. ‘That might not be possible, sweetheart. Tally is a doctor in a big hospital in England and she has lots of children to look after. They would miss her terribly if she had to leave.’

‘Mmm,’ said Jenny, deciding the conversation was over. ‘Can we go for pizza now?’

The children were in bed when Steven told Sue and Peter about Jenny bringing up the subject of his relationship with Tally.

‘It’s only natural that she should,’ said Sue. ‘Poor sausage. It’s not easy being nine years old when you think your very foundations might be under threat from an outsider.’

‘I don’t want them to be under threat,’ said Steven. ‘You know how much Jenny means to me, but… I do have feelings for Tally. God, I feel like I’m walking on broken glass at the moment.’

‘Poor Steven. But be assured, whatever you decide, we regard Jenny as one of our own and always will. She’s welcome to stay here with us as long as she wants to.’

‘Absolutely,’ said Peter. ‘In fact — and I know this isn’t going to help your decision making — we’d hate to see her go.’

‘Thanks, you two. You know how I feel about you guys and what you’ve done over the years.’

‘We do,’ said Sue, who was always uncomfortable with high praise. ‘Just keep us informed.’

Steven phoned Tally from the privacy of his own room and exchanged details of the day with her.

‘Lucky you,’ said Tally. ‘I’ve been run off my feet; didn’t even have time for a sandwich at lunchtime.’

‘But the NHS is the envy of the world, Tally.’

‘Just as well you’re at a distance, Dunbar,’ Tally growled. ‘Talking about you being at a distance, what are our chances of meeting up soon? Or don’t you have time for the number two lady in your life any more?’ Before he could respond, she said, ‘Sorry. That was unfair. I know this must be difficult for Jenny as well as you.’

‘You two seemed to get on well together, I thought.’

‘I thought she was a super kid.’

‘But?’

‘No buts. I just don’t think we should rush things, that’s all. I don’t think I should suddenly be there every time she turns round. She needs time alone with her dad and I need time alone with my man. Let’s not push the happy families button too soon.’

‘Okay.’

Steven was thinking about the conversation and feeling less than happy about it when his phone, which he’d put down on the bedside table, came to life with a text message. He hoped it was Tally wishing him sweet dreams but it wasn’t. It was the duty officer at Sci-Med, telling him his leave was over and he should return to London on the first available flight.

Brian Kelly was getting ready to go out. He stood in front of the hall mirror, examining his image, turning this way and that and appearing well satisfied with what he saw. The reality was a sixteen-stone man with a pot belly, wearing a Glasgow Celtic football shirt and scruffy jeans. Round his neck he wore a club scarf as a further mark of allegiance. A woollen hat in the colours added the final touch to the ensemble.

‘Is that you off, then?’ asked May, passing him in the hall. ‘Who’s it today?’

‘Aberdeen. We’ll stuff them and go six points clear at the top.’

‘I hope so,’ said May, who didn’t care either way but fell that Brian in a good mood was a better prospect than Brian in a bad one.

‘See you whenever.’

Brian had just reached for the door handle when the bell rang. The immediate opening of the door took the young Royal Marine standing there by surprise. ‘God, that was quick,’ he said.

‘I was just going out,’ explained Brian, fighting back conflicting emotions as he took in the uniform and saw that the caller was around the same age as Michael.

‘I’m Jim Leslie. I was a friend of Mick’s.’

‘Oh… right… right,’ said Brian as thoughts of the game evaporated. ‘C’mon in, son.’ He turned his head and called out, ‘May, it’s a pal of Michael’s.’

May’s face lit up with pleasure as she fussed over their caller. ‘It’s so nice of you to come and see us, Jim. Have you come far? Are you hungry? Can I get you anything?’ She turned to Brian. ‘Brian, maybe Jim would like a beer.’

‘I’m fine, Mrs Kelly, really I am. I’m home on leave. I left the base in Arbroath this morning: I’m on my way to my girlfriend’s place in Salford so I thought I would stop off in Glasgow and say hello to you folks.’

‘I’m so glad you did, son,’ said May.

‘Aye,’ echoed Brian. ‘That was real nice of you. Are you sure you won’t have a beer?’

Leslie declined again with a smile.

‘Did you know Michael well?’ asked May.

‘Mick and I didn’t train together but we got to know each other in Afghanistan — you get to know people pretty quickly when you’re out on patrol with them: you’ve got to trust the guy who’s covering your back, if you know what I mean. We got on well. He often spoke of you folks… and his sister, Maureen and her kids. He was really proud of being an uncle.’

‘Tess and Calum adored him,’ said May, her eyes beginning to fill.

‘It must have been a hell of a shock,’ said Leslie.

‘You can say that again,’ said Brian.

‘How much d’you know about Mick’s death?’

The sudden question seemed out of context in the otherwise comfortable and comforting exchange and took Brian and May by surprise. ‘How do you mean, son?’

‘How much do you know about the circumstances of Mick’s death?

Brian shrugged, feeling uncomfortable and somehow filled with foreboding. ‘Just what they told us, I suppose; he died in a field hospital of a wound infection that didn’t respond to treatment.’

‘That officer never got back to me,’ interrupted May, her eyes filling with sadness. ‘He said he’d find out if Michael had said anything before he died but he never did…’

‘Did the rupert say anything about how Mick got wounded?’

Brian shook his head. ‘We did ask him but he said he wasn’t sure, said something about the wound being… well, nothing much: it was really the infection that killed Mick.’

‘He’d been back in the UK.’

Brian and May looked at each other in surprise which quickly changed to confusion. ‘We didn’t know that. He never told us he was coming home. He never came to see us.’