Andy McNab - War torn

'I should have stayed with her. But she was expecting her mother to come. And Luke…'

'You did the right thing, Aggie,' Darrel assured her.

Agnieszka had continued to look miserable.

'No. Dave in operating theatre is right thing.'

But heading south for the coast was making Agnieszka feel more light-hearted and relaxed. They were having an Indian summer and the air sparkled in the sun.

They parked on the clifftop and by now Luke was awake and beginning to look angry.

'I think he a little bit hungry,' said Agnieszka, worrying that they would not get down to the sand before he had started to express his hunger in the earsplitting way he expressed all his needs.

'OK, well, let's feed him now,' said Darrel. 'Where's the milk, where's the food?'

She pointed to a bag and he lifted it out. With the other hand he unstrapped Luke. He carried everything to a sheltered seat overlooking the sea, sat down and proceeded to feed the surprised baby.

Agnieszka stood watching. He held the child so tenderly in his arms. It moved her. It was the same with Jamie. She knew Jamie was now machine-gunner for his section and she had seen pictures of him in the past with an immense, dark weapon of crafted metal. She knew it was his job to kill people. Then he came home and held his baby with the same hands that had worked the killing machine and his gentleness never failed to touch her.

She looked across the blue bay to the strange white rocks that stuck out of the water at the land's edge like teeth.

Darrel was saying: 'There you are then, mate. Enjoying that? OK, let's wipe your mouth and have another go. Good, isn't it?'

She swung round.

'Why you so nice to my baby?'

'Because,' Darrel said, 'he's your baby.'

He handed the contented bundle that was Luke to Agnieszka.

'He needs a hug from you.'

Agnieszka felt doubtful about this. She had found the baby buggy with its sheepskin lining far more to Luke's taste than any hug from her. Holding him when he screamed had never been a successful strategy. But she took him now. She looked down at his relaxed, satisfied face. He almost smiled. She began to rock him from side to side. He fixed his big, blue eyes on her and now he did smile. She smiled back.

'How often do you do that?' asked Darrel.

'He not usually like it.'

She'd tried cuddling him and rocking him when he was born but nothing she did had been right for him. He'd glared at her with an angry pout and loudly, continually, endlessly expressed his dissatisfaction. And so he had become a nappy that needed changing, an open mouth that needed feeding, a loud scream that only walking, walking and more walking could silence, an angry, demanding little emperor who had to be placated and rocked to sleep. Then he was a patient, with his fits, his hospital visits and his doctors. But he was almost never a baby who needed cuddling.

She said: 'He so calm it must be sea air.'

Darrel agreed, and told her to carry him down to the beach while he followed with the stuff.

So she carried Luke down the zigzag path, past sweet-smelling flowers, and he kept his eyes fixed on her all the way, except for the occasions when his focus slid to the blue sky and puffball clouds or the sharp outline of agaves on the cliff. He was asleep by the time they reached the beach.

'Oh, I thought to change his nappy,' said Agnieszka.

'Leave him, he's peaceful,' Darrel told her as they found a spot on the sand to make their own and laid out the towels and set up the sunshade over Luke. Agnieszka placed him carefully beneath it and he did not wake.

She was embarrassed to take off her clothes and reveal her body in its bikini. She fussed around the baby and the bags until Darrel had changed into his swimsuit under a towel.

'I'm going for a swim,' he told her and she watched him walk towards the sea, lean and strong.

Quickly she took off her own clothes and adjusted her bikini. Then she lay down under the warm blanket of the sun, feeling its rays bless her and kiss her, basking in its generosity. It was different from the sun Jamie was always sheltering from in Afghanistan. The English sun was kind. She closed her eyes and felt its light and heat on her eyelids.

Everything was all right when Darrel was around. He had been a good friend to her lately. He had said that they would be friends, no more, and the friendship had made life more pleasant. She was happy. Luke was happy. Darrel was happy. It was a simple structure and its simplicity gave it strength.

She became aware of a shadow falling over her. She opened her eyes. Darrel was standing nearby, looking at her.

'Asleep?' he asked.

'No.'

He lay down beside her and it was like the tide coming in: she could sense his presence straight out of the sea, wet and cool.

She opened her eyes. He was lying close to her.

'You are beautiful,' he said.

She told him: 'Please don't say this.'

He kissed her. Not a long kiss, or a hungry one. His lips were salty. She pulled away and lay back in the sand and closed her eyes. She tried to imagine Jamie's face. But it was a blur. Jamie was an absence. And Darrel was here, he was now.

He said: 'Aggie… when we get back tonight, I don't want to drop you off by your car and drive away.'

She kept her eyes closed.

'Aggie… look at me.'

She opened her eyes. He was leaning over her. The sun had already found his cheeks and forehead. He looked healthy and full of fresh air.

'Aggie. I want to come home with you tonight. I don't want to leave you outside a bloody supermarket.'

She felt relaxed and happy. She certainly did not want the day to end with Darrel driving off while Luke screamed. And she did not want to go home alone to the blocked drain and the dingy house. Jamie was away somewhere and would not ring. Luke would have a fit. It was unbearable.

'Well, Aggie?'

She said: 'I want you to come home, Darrel. I do. But…'

'We'll go to your place, then. And see how we feel.' He rolled to one side. He had been shielding her face from the sun and now it smothered her again. 'No pressure, Ags. I just want to make this a perfect day.'

JAMIE AND DAVE WERE ON STAG. THE CAMP WAS QUIET. ONLY THE air moved a little, descending slowly down the hillside. When it reached Dave's cheeks it felt like hot breath. He watched a piece of litter, lying inside the wire fence below them. It didn't even flutter.

He looked out across the plain and then back to the hills. Nothing moved. He looked inside the camp. Nothing. He knew Emily was in her lab. There was no sign of any other civilian at work. The soldiers who weren't on duty were under their ponchos, asleep. He glanced over at the major's poncho. The soles of two feet were visible beneath it.

'Thank God we're going home tomorrow,' said Dave, realizing he had just called Sin City home. But compared to this Godforsaken piece of nowhere it was full of comforts. The cookhouse, with tables to eat at. A phone to call Jenny from. The chance of seeing pictures of the baby on the OC's computer. Even the Colour Boy's bowls seemed like a luxury if they had some cool, clear water in them for a good wash. But most of all he wanted to speak to Jenny.

There were strange, unpredictable moments, just standing here on stag or sitting in the ops room, when he got what felt like an actual physical ache in his heart for Jenny. He always meant to tell her about those aches next time he spoke to her. Although he never did.

'You're definitely first in line for the phone when we get back,' said Jamie, as though he could read Dave's mind.

'Yeah. For once I won't be waiting.'

'And I want to get the phone after you. I really want to talk to Agnieszka.'

'Going to try to sort things out?'