Chapter 3

I wanted our first time together to be extra special. If I was her first, I wanted this to be right, to be something she would never forget, or, more importantly, regret. So, the swaggering, buccaneering, arrogant, cynical, toe-rag went to bed with this special person for the first time, and just talked. I told her how monumental this was to me, how I wanted it to be the foundation of our life together, how I wanted to make sure she would never want anyone else, how ... fuck, I never thought I had this in me!

I just couldn't put into words exactly how big an impact this had on me. It was the biggest step I would ever take with any woman. I knew that once Jean and I made love it was irrevocable for me. I wanted her for the rest of my life and I could never tolerate sharing her with anyone else. I stuttered and stumbled as only a man can when he is trying to express emotion. I had never envisioned talking to anyone about this and just didn't have the vocabulary. Jean took charge. She knew empathetically just what I was trying to put into words. She took a frightened boy in her arms and we slept together for the first time. I do mean slept. We didn't make love. Somehow my rambling efforts to explain myself chimed exactly with how she felt about me. I just could not believe how I had found the only woman for me.

The next day was Sunday. I went home and got the van. We went to Oxford Island on Lough Neagh. Together we walked along the lakeside and talked. We spent the day learning more about each-other's hopes and dreams and just knew we were right for each other. On the way home we stopped at Aghalee and visited Jeans parents, John and Margaret. We had Sunday dinner with them and while Jean and her mum were doing the dishes I sat in the living room with her father and squirmed. Eventually he told me to stop fidgeting and come out with whatever was bothering me. I looked at him and he had one eyebrow raised, a definite twinkle in his eye, and an amused look. I paled and swallowed hard even though my mouth was as dry.

"I'd ... er... , I, well..."

He interrupted. "Yes, Yes, I know. You want to marry Jean and you want to ask my permission. Is that about it?" He let me off the hook.

"Er ... Yes," was as much as I could get out.

"Does she know?"

"That I'm asking you?"

"That, and the fact that you want to marry her?"

"Well ... she knows that I ... er... , that I think she's someone special and that she's someone I could see myself ... er ... settling down with but I haven't said anything to her and I ... er ... I hadn't really thought about asking you but it seemed ... er." Suddenly I seemed to get a grip on myself. "No I haven't asked her yet and she doesn't know I'm doing this. I just felt that this was my opportunity to speak to you so I took it."

He simply nodded, sagely. "Hmm. Strike while the iron's hot, eh? Good man, yer da. Not wasting time, eh? Well, I'll have to talk to her mother first, you know. This isn't the sort of thing she'll let me decide on me own, you know." It was a statement, not a question and at that he stood up and went, solemnly, into the kitchen.

I sat and sweated forever. At least it seemed like that, but actually, he returned immediately, with his wife and Jean both looking expectantly puzzled, or should that be puzzledly expectant? Jean and her mum sat down and John took centre stage. "Margaret, this young man has just asked if he can marry our daughter." Jean squealed. Her mum clapped her hands together in front of her face and her eyes shone as she half-smiled. Jean grabbed me round the neck.

"Well, young man, looks like the answer's yes," said John.

Naturally the women took charge and long laid plans were dusted off for updating. John and I were relegated to supporting players and ignored. Or, rather, not so much ignored, as talked at. Anyway, eventually I pointed out that since it seemed to be a done deal, it was only fair that we let my parents know as well.

Mum and Dad were overjoyed. Dad took me to the side and suggested I get my finger out, complete my exams, get a decent paying job, and get the hell out of the army. Not necessarily in that precise order. I saw his point. I was 23; Jean was 22. She was working full time; I was still at college.

I dropped Jean off at her flat and arranged to pick her up after work the next day so that we could make our own plans. Ultimately we decided it would be best to wait until I had finished my diploma. That meant an engagement of about 18 months. I clocked as many duties as I could and we saved like fury. Jean and I were determined to pay as much of the wedding costs ourselves. Jean and Margaret recruited my Mum into the planning and in between times I taught Jean to drive. When she got near her test, she took some professional driving lessons, just to iron out any bad habits I had introduced. She passed first time, so I couldn't have done too badly.

I got extra duties by getting onto some of the company sports teams. I played football (soccer) and I boxed for the company. I was selected for the battalion football team but was usually a reserve. I didn't get many games but I went on the tours and got paid. I also fought for the battalion when the first choice welter weight broke his hand. I put up a fairly good performance holding the Parachute Regiment fighter to a points decision (he won).

I also managed to get a couple of courses in the army that gave me some extra pay. I had already done my promotion course so I did my Team Medics course. It's an advanced first aid course to stabilise blast and gunshot casualties but we also covered things like how to deal with casualties under the influence of drink or drugs, heart attacks, asthma, diabetes, epilepsy, and Road Traffic Accidents. We came across more casualties caused by RTAs than anything else. One of the girls instructing had kick-started three real heart attack victims.

The Mess Stewards course was really handy 'cos it meant I could pick up extra duties serving at the Sergeants or Officers Mess dinners. Lots of guys wouldn't do these since they thought it was demeaning, but, we got paid, we got the same meal as the sergeants or officers got, there was always wine and port left over, our own company personnel usually bought us drink, and we got transport home. It was magic.

But not as magic as our love life became. Jean and I were spending more time in her flat to save money and we started to learn about each other's body. Jean taught me how and where to touch her and gradually I learned how to vary my touch. It was like playing the fife or guitar. You could vary the notes by varying the fingering, just like on an instrument. I came to understand how to give my woman what she wanted.