Wendy Jones - The Songbird and the Soldier

Three days later a small terraced house came up for sale on the edge of town. It was an old place, but it had been well kept and updated over the years. It had one good-sized bedroom, a little room and a bathroom upstairs and a living room, cloakroom and kitchen downstairs. Sam took her mum and dad along to see it, hoping for their approval and she wasn’t disappointed. Sam had been left a large amount of money by her grandmother a few years before and had been saving as much as she could ever since to afford a place of her own. So when the next letter arrived, she had plenty of news to tell.

Dearest Sam,

You obviously still have no idea how many times I read your letters. Can I just say that your turn of phrase is destroying me? How is a guy supposed to concentrate on killing all the bad guys when the words ‘lick to death’, ‘hot’ and ‘pillow’ are swimming around in his brain? What are you trying to do to me?! And if you think you’re going to get away without sending me a picture of you, you’ve got another thing coming. Gargoyle, indeed! You’re beautiful. I have met you, remember. If you can manage to look at a picture of my ugly mug and still put pen to paper, I’m sure I can look at you. And no, a description will not do. Unless it is in the style of a hot Mills and Boon novel, of course? Ahhh! Bagpipes! No, I couldn’t take it!!! Nuns. Nuns. Okay.

I take it this is a pushbike you ride every day? You’re not a Hell’s Angel, are you? The park sounds wonderful. What I wouldn’t give to walk barefoot around the soft green grass in that park right now.

Yes. In answer to your question, we do get down time. Some guys play cards, some listen to music. There is time to write letters and re-read old ones. The mundane things that back home would take a matter of minutes take a lot longer out here, as everything has to be done by hand, so that fills up a bit of time too. Guys like Spike tend to keep fit - tell your friend Kate to expect a letter very soon – and others like Karl – Chloe’s guy – just top up their tans. My hidden talent, it seems, lies in poker. I’m getting pretty good, even if I do say so myself.

The weather out here is hot, with intermittent bouts of scorching sun to break-up the monotony. It got up to a balmy forty three today! I’ll send you some over if you like.

Write soon, WITH PHOTOS!

Yours,

Andy x

PS Still no!

Sam had reached a watershed. To go on now would be to admit there was more to this relationship than just friendship. Friendly banter had gone and flirtation was now definitely on the table. Was this really what she wanted?

For the first time, Sam decided not to write back straight away. She understood this would mean the reply would also be delayed because of this, but it was important to be sure of what to say. She pushed the letter to the back of her desk and looked hard at the handsome soldier who smiled back at her from there. She rang Kate and arranged to go out the following night and then went downstairs to see her mum.

After a while, her mum said, “You’re not your usual self tonight, love. Is anything wrong?”

Sam shook her head.

“Only you’re usually full of the joys of spring after you’ve had a letter.”

Sam thought about this. “Just a tiring day, I guess.”

“But the house is still going ahead all right, isn’t it? No problems there?”

“Oh yes, fine.”

“Right then. Lasagne and chips okay?”

The following evening, Sam met Kate at a pub in town and confided her dilemma. Kate had few reservations about what Sam should do. “Okay, so let me get this straight. You’re worried that you might be two-timing a guy who may or may not be bothered about writing to you and was basically a bit crap when he was around anyway, with a dark brooding horny Adonis who thinks you’re the best thing since sliced bread? And you are hesitating because…?”

“You’re probably right, I know. But what if Dean really is in the back of beyond? What sort of a woman would that make me?”

Kate took a big swig of her drink. “You’re thinking way too much about this. Just go with it. What’s the worst that could happen? It’s not exactly life or death. I say screw Dean and go with Andy.”

“Put so eloquently, now I see perfectly what I need to do.” Sam sagged. “Oh, why are men so complicated?”

“They’re not. They’re very simple. It’s basic science, Sam. Effort equals results. Andy is the one making all the effort. He should be the one getting the result.”

“You were awake in Science class. I’m impressed.”

Kate thumped her playfully.

“Still,” said Sam, “it would be nice to know, one way or the other.”

When Sam did eventually write back she felt it was important to maintain a holding position of friendliness. Not dismissive enough so as to put him off, but nor should she give him any reason to hope. She crafted her letter very carefully, giving herself more time to think, but still keeping the lines of communication open between them.

Dear Andy,

Great news: I have found a house. I put an offer in on a little terraced house a week or so ago and it has been accepted. It is all systems go at the moment, so keep your fingers crossed that it all goes well. I’m hoping I can move in over half term week. Mum and Dad will probably hold a party to celebrate finally getting rid of me – not really! I think Mum will secretly be sad to see me go. Who will she cluck over when I’m gone? Dad? I’m not sure he’s ready for that.

So, my own place? Wow. All it will have in it is a beanbag, a dog and a laptop, but it will be all mine. I think I may have to do a lot of shopping over the next few weeks, don’t you?

Now, Rumplestiltskin, about that middle name. Is it Timothy? Sheldon? Sturgis? Ooo, I know, Rupert? I’m not giving up on this, you know.

Write when you can,

Sam

PS Kate has heard from Spike and she’s grinning from ear to ear. Thank you.

She checked through the letter again to make sure nothing could be construed as suggestive. No, it was fine, not too cool and she had stuck to safe topics. She called Humphrey over and tickled him under the chin. His stubby little tail wagged happily. “Walk, Humph?” she asked. She carried him down the stairs and walked out up the road, stopping briefly at the post box along the way.

On Sunday night, Kate rang. Apparently she had walked in on her mother having a chat with Mrs Fletcher, her next-door neighbour and she had asked if there was any news from Dean. His mother had said he was fine and seemed to be in good spirits.

“But how could she know?” Sam asked.

“I know. So I asked her, just for interest, how often she gets to hear from him and you’ll never guess what? He only writes every week. And I’m afraid she also mentioned meeting his girlfriend in town the other day.”

Sam was silent. How could he? He hadn’t even had the decency to break up with her. She was hurt. No, she was angry.

“Look, Sam, I’m sorry, but I always said he was no good. At least now you know you can forget about him and get nice and friendly with Andy. Guilt free.”

Sam heaved a big sigh. “What is it with men and me, Kate?”

“Oh, you’re just one in a long line of girls that have been taken in by that one, I’m sure of it. Cheer up, you’re free.”

Sam swapped ears and paused. “Hang on a minute. But that also means that Andy lied to me about Dean.”

This time it was Kate’s turn to come unstuck. “I guess.”

“Oh bloody men! Bugger them all, that’s what I say.” Humphrey whimpered in his bed. “Not you, Humph. You’re lovely,” she called across her room and patted her lap and Humphrey happily obliged.