Wendy Jones - The Songbird and the Soldier

“Oh? You sure you won’t stay?” Dean asked, sliding round the table closer to Sam.

Andy looked at Dean and then back to Sam. “I probably won’t see you again until we’re back now,” he said. “Take care, Sam.”

Sam stood up and kissed Andy on the cheek. “No, you take care, all right? I want both of you back here in one piece, you hear me? Both of you, or I’ll definitely have something to say about it,” she added.

“Cor. Are you going to keep me after school and thrash me, Miss?” said Dean, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

Andy smiled, his brain barely functioning now. “I’ll, um…” he gestured toward the door, “be off.”

Sam straightened. “I’m serious.”

Andy could see that she was. He looked into her eyes. “I know. I’ll take care of him. I promise.” He smiled and then left her with Dean, walking out into the harsh winter night.

He must try and forget about her now. The next nine months he was to be a soldier and nothing more. The army was his home and the men were his brothers, even Dean. In the grand scheme of things Dean was still his brother: an annoying younger brother, but someone he would gladly lay down his own life to protect- but God, how he sometimes just wanted to smash his head against a brick wall. He put on his gloves, zipped up his jacket and walked away from Sam and towards war. Back inside, Sam was left wondering about the familiarity of that kiss.

Sam was round at Kate’s house, slouching in the big pink beanbag underneath the window. Christina Aguilera sang quietly in the background and Kate traced the pattern of the duvet cover on her bed with her finger. “I still can’t believe you’re going out with creep-features,” Kate said.

“He’s nice. He makes me laugh and you’ve got to admit he is very good looking.”

“Oh he is better looking now, I suppose, but… really? Dean?”

Sam smiled, remembering his tall handsome features, his blue eyes gazing down at her, making her feel like a million dollars.

“He’s a twat, Sam. A womaniser.”

“He is not.”

“You’re really into him, aren’t you?”

Sam sighed and hugged the soft white pony she found lying nearby, to her chest.

“You’ve always been soft on him, even back in school days when he was ugly.”

“He was not ugly.”

“Yes he was. I remember.” She took a long look at Sam. “I give up. You’ve been a lost cause ever since he used to put his arm around you at break times. You know he was only doing that so that you would give him your Kit Kat. He was really after Big-Tits Bunstead,” she said, slumping back down on the bed.

Sam lobbed the pony at her. Kate was obviously teasing. She didn’t believe for a minute that Dean had really used her like that. He was the one who had stood up for her when Tom Finley had teased her about her braces. He even said he would have taken her out only his parents had put their foot down and insisted he stay at home and work. “Just because he was a hard worker and not cool and trendy like all the boys you got off with,” she said.

Kate spluttered out a hail of laughter and lobbed the pony back. “Cheeky mare!”

“Listen, you never did tell me what the matter was with your mum the other night? Is she all right?”

Kate propped herself up on one elbow again. “At the double date?”

“Yes.”

She sat up. “You really didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary with that guy then?”

“No. He seemed really nice. Sort of… reassuring: like you’ve known him for ages, but you haven’t. You know what I mean? Why?”

“’Cause he was gawping at you the whole night. I told you back at Chlo’s party that he was into you and you, like a plonker, went and gave your number to old smarm-breath. Why Dean thought he would be interested in me I have no idea.”

“But your mum?”

“Oh she was fine. I’d just had enough of blending in with the wallpaper. You know ‘shrinking violet’ was always more your style than mine. I’m not going spend my evening hanging around babysitting some poor love-struck squaddie.”

Sam looked thoughtful for a moment. “Dean said he’d been married a few years back, but it had ended, and well… in his words… he wanted to get him…‘back in the saddle’.”

“And you thought of me? Cheers, I’m touched.”

“It wasn’t like that. Dean said he was a nice guy, a few years older than us and it was one of those rare moments in time when you didn’t actually have a boyfriend.”

Kate gasped again, picked up a pillow and threw it at Sam. “As opposed to my timid little church mouse, who usually runs away if a boy even looks at her?”

“I do not!”

“You do too.”

“I’m going out with Dean, aren’t I?”

Kate threw her hands in the air. “Miracles!” and Sam chucked the pillow back.

For weeks Sam heard nothing. There was no reply to her texts and no phone calls came. She wasn’t sure if this was normal or if something was wrong. All she could do was sit and wait.

Up in Norfolk the men were being put through the training for battle in Afghanistan. There were long exercises in simulated conditions, as close to the scenarios they would probably be facing as they could be in a cold wet February in England. Those on their first tour were eager to get going, to face the war they had all been trained for.

Dean approached his second tour with a mixture of exhilaration and dread. He knew what it was like to feel the scorch of heat on his back. He had picked up fallen comrades and lived through the nightmares that stalked his sleep. For him and those like him, the war was a more subdued affair. It was more than a vocation. It was a deep-rooted brotherhood that bound them all together and made them want to stand side by side and protect each other. That was what carried them when Hell raged.

Andy was learning to control his thoughts about Sam, visiting them only when he was at leisure to do so. Dean hadn’t mentioned her once since their arrival and Andy hoped that no stronger feelings could be created between them while he was gone. So he trained and he learned and prepared himself for what was to come.

As the first glimpses of spring took hold on the quiet, peaceful fields of England, the men of 9 Rifles were busy in a muddy ditch preparing for war. Their time in pre-deployment training was almost at an end, and the calm of inevitability descended upon them.

“How’s it going with you and ‘lover boy’ then?” Kate asked several weeks later.

“Fine… I think,” Sam replied.

“Fine? That doesn’t sound very good. I was hoping for something more like ‘fab’, or ‘great’, or ‘smoking!’”

“I don’t know. I haven’t heard from him in weeks. Don’t get me wrong, he’s great- I just sometimes feel a little in the dark…inadequate, even.”

“Inadequate?”

“You know. He’s so… perfect.”

“He is good looking, I’ll give you that, but…”

Sam gestured to her own body. “But look at me.”

“What? Hell you’re no fatso yourself. You do all that cycling to and fro, all over the place. You’re in better shape than I’ll ever be and I’ve never had a guy complain about the state of my body. You’re fine, Sam. Your taste in men sucks, almost as much as your taste in music, if I’m honest. But you’re smart, way smarter than me. Look at you. You went to university for Christ’s sake and have a real job, not like me. I’m still bumming around and living with my mum.”

Sam cleared her throat and held up her hands.

“I know, but you’ll be out of here soon. I’ll still be living at home when I’m 40.”

Sam smiled.

“Of course I’m not saying it wouldn’t hurt you to brighten yourself up a bit now and again. Keep them on their toes.” Kate stood up. “You’ve got to be like, ‘Hey boy, this is what you’ll be missing out on if you don’t treat me right’.” She nodded at Sam, who burst out laughing.