Andy McNab - War torn

Leanne could see that Steve was relieved to sit down in a chair. His face was twisted with pain. She hadn't been sure the big welcome was a good idea but her friends had wanted to do it. Now that she saw his strained smile she knew it had been a mistake.

The boys were sneaking closer to their father. One of them grabbed his good leg. Then… oh no! He had swiped at his father's other trouser leg, found it empty, and was now examining it with disbelief. Steve laughed, a deep belly laugh, a Steve laugh, and the tension in the room suddenly dissolved.

'You won't find a lot in there, mate!'

Everyone laughed at this and the boys ran around giggling wildly, picking up their father's empty trouser leg, hooting and putting it down again.

The adults clustered around Steve with questions. The room became noisy. Leanne buzzed about with sandwiches and crisps and drinks. She watched Steve out of the corner of her eye. He had always liked being the centre of attention. You could often hear his voice above everyone else's at a party. She listened now. He was talking to Jenny Henley.

'Dave had a stoppage and he went down to sort it out and I got on top and that's when it happened…'

Leanne saw Jenny's face turn white.

'Yeah,' Steve continued loudly, 'a few seconds' difference would have meant it was him and not me. Dave must be one of the few blokes in the British Army to be saved by equipment malfunction…'

Jenny said something and Steve shrugged.

'He certainly owes me a bloody drink…'

Leanne knew that Steve had replaced Dave on top of the vehicle just fifteen seconds before the bomb blast. Because of those fifteen seconds, Jenny had been comforting her for weeks instead of the other way round. She had struggled with this knowledge quietly in the night and sometimes, for a few minutes, she'd even hated Jenny. But not enough to tell her. And now Steve had not hesitated to blurt it out.

His voice was booming across the room again.

'When I get to Headley Court on Monday morning they'll start fitting me up for a leg socket. As soon as that's right I can try out some new legs. Then I just have to pass a fitness test and I can get straight back out there!'

And in answer to another question: 'Yes, there's a chance I can make it back out to the FOB before this tour ends…'

Leanne didn't take time to think. She found herself striding across the room.

'You're kidding!' she said, smiling broadly as though he had just cracked a very funny joke.

'No, darling, I've already told you.'

'I thought you must be kidding!'

'Leanne. I've trained to fight. I've lived to fight. There's nothing else I can do.'

'The army's full of interesting jobs, you don't have to serve in the frontline…' She heard herself. She sounded aggressive. This wasn't the time and it wasn't the place but she couldn't stop.

'What do you want me to do? Go and work for the quartermaster handing equipment out to other blokes?'

The party noise was dampening a little now. People were stopping their conversations to listen.

'Well, that's better than going back out to get the other leg blown off so we have to go through it all again!' she replied loudly. There were two Leannes in the room, the Leanne who was so tense and angry she couldn't stop herself shouting. And a small, calm, quiet Leanne who knew the welcome party was on the brink of disaster and could do nothing to save the situation.

'You can do anything, Steve!' said a warm voice behind her. 'If you say you can get back out to that frontline, then I believe you will!'

Steve looked past his hurt wife to the smiling face of Adi Kasanita.

'Thanks, Ads. I'm glad someone believes in me.'

'Honey, everyone believes in you,' she said sweetly. 'Leanne too. She's so sure you'll do it that she's scared to death, poor girl!'

Adi put an arm around Leanne and some people laughed and joined in and one of the officers said there was a para who had gone straight back out to Afghanistan with a new leg. After a while the voices and the children and the balloons made it seem like a normal party again.

Leanne didn't want it to end. Whenever anyone said they had to go she persuaded them to stay a little longer. The officers were the first to drift off, then all the other men in uniform said they had to get back to their offices, and finally the mothers said: 'You two need some quiet time alone together.'

Leanne wanted to shout: 'No, we don't!'

But Jenny and Adi took the boys and suddenly the house was still, more still than it had been for months. Even at night when Leanne lay sleepless in her bed, it wasn't this still.

Steve sat with his head back in the chair and his eyes closed. Leanne busied herself with the clearing up. Finally he spoke.

'That was a load of shit.'

She froze, a stack of dirty cups in her hand.

'You could say thank you.'

'What have I got to thank you for? Signs saying I'm a hero? Well, I didn't even get to the fucking base. I was only in Afghanistan five minutes. I'm no fucking hero. My mates are out there fighting, they're the heroes.'

'So that's why you want to go back,' she said bitterly.

'Yeah. I want to go back. Get over it. I want to go back.'

His crutch was leaning against the chair and he reached for it. He was going to stand up. She moved forward to help and was still moving when she realized that he had picked up the crutch to throw it at her. It hurtled with force across the room. She dodged. It hit the side of her body and bounced off onto the buffet table. With a crash it landed on a pile of plates.

She stared at the mess of food, broken crockery and crutch and then turned to Steve, her hip throbbing with pain.

'Why did you do that, Steve?'

But he had closed his eyes and did not reply.

'YES,' SAID EMILY, GUARDING THE ENTRANCE OF HER ISOBOX SO THAT Asma and Jean could not see past her to its interior. 'I am indeed coming to the shura. I shall be very interested to learn from the local people how it is to live under British military occupation.'

'Good!' said Jean cheerfully. 'We're here to help you prepare.'

Emily raised her eyebrows. Asma thought she looked like a bird that wanted to peck you. Her nose was beaky and her alert eyes were very round.

'And what preparation is necessary?'

Asma explained that they would all be sitting on a carpet.

Emily shrugged.

'I daresay I shall be a little uncomfortable but I will manage.'

'So, if you don't mind me asking, what exactly will you be wearing?' asked Jean.

Emily looked affronted.

'I have no plans to change.'

They glanced politely at her sleeveless blouse and sensible skirt. Her clothes struggled to contain her ample frame.

'I'm sorry, but you really need a loose, long-sleeved top to cover your arms. And you must cover your legs.'

Asma added: 'We wear combat trousers and that's all wrong but at least they're baggy and they hide us. You can't go in showing your legs, Professor.'

Emily's strong, clever face frightened her. The confidence her intelligence gave the professor was like body armour. It meant Emily had views she was so sure about she wasn't scared to express them. It meant Emily did not care about her appearance and had no interest in what others thought of her.

'You certainly couldn't show your young legs but I doubt they will take much notice of an old woman like me,' Emily said airily.

Both Jean and Asma rushed to correct her and Emily weakened.

'Well, we'd better have a look at my clothes then. Don't stand there letting the heat in.'

She stepped aside. After the fierce light outside the isobox seemed gloomy. They could see piles of papers and two computer screens which apparently Emily had been using simultaneously. A bed was pressed against one wall and it was also covered in papers. But the most amazing thing about the office was its temperature. Asma and Jean closed their eyes and felt the delicious and unaccustomed pleasure of air-conditioning.