Andy McNab - War torn

Leanne's mother sat behind the wheel, her face red, her hair dishevelled.

'What a journey!' she said to Leanne before greeting the boys.

Leanne put down the twins and crossed her arms. 'You got lost. Just like I said you would.'

'Well the signs aren't clear enough. They don't tell you anything!'

As her mother heaved herself out of the car, Leanne glanced at her scalp. Her mum's roots were showing and a lot of them were grey now.

The boys ambushed their grandmother. She picked one up but the effort made her breathless. The other pounded with his fists at her skirt.

'Oh, Leanne, I'll have to sit down for a while before you leave me with them,' she said. For a moment, Leanne hated her. She hated her mother for getting older. One day she would be too old to help at all.

'But visiting time's going to end soon, Mum.'

'They'll have to let you in anyway, Leanne. If they try to keep you out they'll have me to answer to.'

Leanne recognized in her mother the firm, confident woman she herself used to be.

They went up the stairs and Leanne's mother admired the flat and Leanne made her a cup of tea and saw to her amazement that her own hand was shaking as she put the sugar in.

'You not having a cuppa?' asked her mother.

'Mum, I really want to get to the hospital. And I have to walk there because of the parking.' Leanne never walked anywhere if she could help it.

Her mother pursed her lips.

'Switch on the telly!' Leanne suggested, switching it on herself. She fetched her handbag. Its familiar, shapeless bulges felt reassuring, like an old friend.

'I must go, Mum. You'll be all right.'

Her mother put down her tea with a pained expression. Both the twins ran to Leanne and hung onto her.

'I'm going to visit Daddy now,' she told them. She wanted to say something nice. You can see Daddy for a very little while tomorrow. I'm going to give him a big hug from you. I'll be back soon bringing lots of love from Daddy. Nana's so pleased to have you all to herself. But no words came out. The twins mobbed her and she had to squeeze out of the door silently, their cries pursuing her all the way down the stairs.

Outside, the sun shone. Leanne sweated as she walked. It felt weird not to be dragging a twin on either side, as though a part of her body was missing. But it was Steve who was missing the body part, not her. She tried to prepare herself. She was seeing Steve again and that did make her heart beat faster because she loved him and missed him. But then, she was seeing a different Steve. A Steve who had been thrown in the air and come down another Steve.

She reached the hospital and stood outside for a moment to force back down something that kept trying to push its way up inside her body. Was it vomit? Or just an enormous sob? She struggled to control herself and, when she felt numb enough, stepped through the door.

She was directed to his ward. Now she walked slowly through it, looking for Steve. She knew she wouldn't recognize his body, so she only looked at faces. Every bed contained a man with some part of his body bandaged. The wounded. Men who had photos of themselves smiling under the hot Afghan sun wearing camouflage and body armour and helmets, carrying Bergens and a lot of kit. Looking big and whole. They would never look that way again.

There was a whiteboard behind a desk with a list of names.

Buckle 313.

It must be a bed number. She walked on. No, it was a room number. She found 313. Outside was another board. You could see where the names of previous patients had been rubbed out underneath. Steve's name was scrawled in purple over them.

The door was open. She went in. The man in the bed was sitting up. There were sheets pulled across him haphazardly as though he didn't care whether he was covered or not. His eyes were open but he didn't look at her when she entered the room. Her heart gave a jump. It was Steve, definitely, recognizably Steve. He looked just exactly the same! What had she expected? That he had turned into some kind of a monster?

'Sweetheart!' she said.

And suddenly, for the first time since the Families Officer had called that evening, it didn't matter that this was Steve minus a leg. He was here and he was alive. She took his hand and kissed his face and tears fell down her cheeks. They were tears of relief and of joy. For Chrissake. Why had she been so scared? Nervous about seeing Steve, her Steve! She could not stop kissing him and she could not stop crying.

It took a few moments for her to realize he was not kissing her in return.

Leanne pulled her head away from his. Her face ached with smiling. She hadn't smiled since his accident. Not at the boys, not at her friends, not at her mother who had driven all the way from a small Northamptonshire town today just to help out. She had created a world without happiness for everyone around her and it must have been terrible but it would be OK now. Steve was back, he was all right and they would be happy again.

They looked at each other. Steve grinned sheepishly at her, as though he was ashamed of causing her tears. She smiled back. Her tears kept falling. Steve didn't like women crying. If she had cried in the past he had shown impatience or made a joke of it. She waited for a joke now. He remained silent, still smiling. Was he embarrassed? He reached out and wiped her wet face with his finger.

'Oh, Steve, I love you. Oh, thank God you're back,' she said. If only the tears would stop. She kept touching his face. It was unmarked. He had shaved recently and the skin was smooth. His smile did not falter. Yes, he was pleased to see her.

She leaned close to him. She whispered: 'Speak to me, Steve!'

He said: 'What do you want me to say?'

I love you, I've missed you, it's so good to see you, I've been lying in hospital at Bastion thinking about you, are you OK, where are the kids, what's been happening at home…?

'Isn't there anything you want to say to me, then?' she asked. She had sat down on the bed now but her face was no longer close to his.

He shrugged.

'I'd like to know how the lads are getting on.'

'Which lads?'

Let him mean the twins. Please let him mean the twins and not…

'1 Platoon. Are they all OK?'

She swallowed.

'Yeah. So far as I know. I spoke to Dave Henley and he didn't say there were problems, we haven't heard about any casualties. Except the lad who was hurt with you: Jordan someone.'

'How is he?' asked Steve, showing the first sign of real interest.

'He's got these bad burns but he'll be OK. He's gone home to his mum for a while, I think.'

Steve nodded. His eyes slid off around the room.

'Are you looking for something? Is there anything you want?' she asked.

'No.'

His hand was held in hers. She loosened her grip as she realized he wasn't looking for anything. He just didn't want to look at her.

'Steve…' she said. His eyes swivelled back to her.

'Can you remember my name, love?'

There was great sadness in his face. She realized it'd been there all the time, even when he'd smiled at her. She just hadn't chosen to see it before. He closed his eyes as though he didn't want to see her reaction to his next words. His voice was quiet.

He said: 'I'm not sure who you are.'

SO HE HAD GIVEN ORDERS ONCE MORE AND GIVEN THEM BADLY. Thank God the sergeant had bailed him out yet again. Gordon Weeks went to the cookhouse and ate alone.

He was toying with his shepherd's pie when someone put their plate down directly opposite him. He looked up and saw that it was Asma. This was so astonishing that for a moment he did not speak.

'Hallo!' he said at last.

'Forgotten your Pashtu?'

'Well, I think I might be losing it. But there wasn't much in the first place.'