Wendy Jones - The Songbird and the Soldier

Wendy Lou Jones

A division of HarperCollins Publishers

www.harpercollins.co.uk

Copyright HarperImpulse an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 77–85 Fulham Palace Road Hammersmith, London W6 8JB www.harpercollins.co.uk First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2013 Copyright © Wendy Lou Jones 2013 Cover Photographs © shutterstock.com Wendy Lou Jones asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins. Ebook Edition © July 2013 ISBN: 9780007543939 Version 2014-10-01 Digital eFirst: Automatically produced by Atomik ePublisher from Easypress.

Dedication This book is dedicated to my dad, who sadly did not live long enough to see my name in print, but who gave me the courage to try. And to my long-suffering husband, who stood by my side every step of the way while I did.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Wendy Lou Jones: About the Author

About HarperImpulse

About the Publisher

HarperImpulse an imprint of

HarperCollins Publishers Ltd

77–85 Fulham Palace Road

Hammersmith, London W6 8JB

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperImpulse 2013

Copyright © Wendy Lou Jones 2013

Cover Photographs © shutterstock.com

Wendy Lou Jones asserts the moral right

to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue record for this book is

available from the British Library

This novel is entirely a work of fiction.

The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are

the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to

actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is

entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International

and Pan-American Copyright Conventions.

By payment of the required fees, you have been granted

the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access

and read the text of this e-book on screen.

No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted,

downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or

stored in or introduced into any information storage and

retrieval system, in any form or by any means,

whether electronic or mechanical, now known or

hereinafter invented, without the express

written permission of HarperCollins.

Ebook Edition © July 2013

ISBN: 9780007543939

Version 2014-10-01

Digital eFirst: Automatically produced by Atomik ePublisher from Easypress.

This book is dedicated to my dad, who sadly did not live long enough to see my name in print, but who gave me the courage to try. And to my long-suffering husband, who stood by my side every step of the way while I did.

Sergeant Andrew Garrington was in control: his house was in order, his shirts were crisp and his career was on track, so the fact that he had caught on to his men’s misplaced notion of finding him some new witless woman to pander to didn’t bother him unduly. He played with his beer mat as he listened to the men chat. His attention was caught by a rowdy set entering through the front of the bar and disappearing out of the back.

Corporal Dean Fletcher scanned the room for female life and Spike spotted him. “Uh-oh, Romeo’s on high alert.”

Dean looked back and grinned.

“Well, found anything?”

“No.”

“Aren’t we meant to be finding a bird for the Prof?” Miller asked.

Andy twitched an eyebrow. “Oh no you don’t.”

“Come on, Prof. You’ve been single for far too long now. You need to get yourself a woman,” Spike said.

“I seem to be managing quite well by myself, thanks.”

“But you need a good woman.”

“Oh, a good woman, well why didn’t you say so? No.”

“Andy, think about it. You need someone to keep you sane while we’re out there. Remember last time? It’s no good if you’ve got no one to drag you back up again when shit’s going down,” said Miller shaking his head.

Claire had walked out before his last tour in Afghanistan. Andy remembered. It had been hard, but he had got through it on his own. He was a stronger man now than he had been then, a better soldier. He had learned in that time that women and relationships were generally disappointing. They were too needy to fit into his lifestyle.

“One day you’ll meet a girl who really gets under your skin and it’ll completely poleaxe you. You might even find yourself getting…” Miller held up his hands to make parenthesis in the air, “emotionally involved.”

The guys laughed. Dean’s laugh was the loudest. “The Prof? You’ve got to be kidding. I’ve seen more emotion in a potato.”

“Whereas you seem to fall head over heels in love with each and every one of them,” Andy replied.

“Absolutely.”

“For about five minutes.”

“Seems long enough to me!”

Spike patted Dean on the back and Andy left the table, rolling his eyes. He approached the bar. Leaning forward, he raised his hand to get the bargirl’s attention. She looked across at him while pulling a pint. She smiled and then raised her eyebrows in question.

“Hi, sorry,” he called, “um… which way to the… er-?”

“Down the corridor and on your right,” she called back, trying to make herself heard over the general hubbub of a busy Saturday night. Briefly she watched him walk away and then returned her attention to the matter in hand.

Andy made his way through the crowd and out into the relative peace of the corridor. Along the walls, small shaded lights lit up old photos of the pub as it had been in years gone by. Wooden panelling hung heavily on either side of him and the dusty stone floor beneath his feet echoed as he walked. Near the end of the corridor he could hear the muted sound of voices chanting. The noise grew louder and louder as he neared the back room and then a cheer went up and he could hear people clapping. Two girls came bustling out of the room, passed him and went off to the right, sending a wave of light and sound crashing around him. They disappeared into the toilets and the door to the back room swung slowly closed again.

As the bright light began to fade, Andy could hear a beautiful voice begin to sing a soft, haunting melody. It was unlike anything he’d heard in a pub before. The song wreathed itself around him, made him stop in his tracks for a moment and listen. He checked for anyone who might notice and then caught the edge of the door with his hand and peered inside.

The room was alive with colour. Banners and balloons hung all around the walls. As he watched, Andy noticed that everything inside the room was now still. Only the girl singing on the far side of the room moved. She was swaying slowly in time with the music, the microphone in one hand and the other reaching out with the grace of an angel. Andy was captivated.