Chapter 5

I started to tidy up again. "Fuckit!" I flung the clothes back onto the floor. I bounced back onto the bed and cracked my skull off the bed frame. Somehow I always manage to injure myself when I get in a temper. Not that it was much of an injury, but when you're feeling a deep sense of righteous indignation you tend to magnify minor sleights, don't you?

I didn't understand what was going on. I had really missed being with the love of my life. I had finally got a future and suddenly she had just comprehensively pissed on my chips. As I lay and brooded, the past few weeks caught up with me again, and I dozed off, then drifted into a very deep sleep.

I woke at again about nine that same evening. I did not feel particularly rested. There was something lurking in the back of my mind, flitting through the shadows, like a night patrol using all available cover. Somehow, I knew I didn't want to disturb that thought, so I started to tidy up again. By the time I was finished I wondered about going for another run, or going down to the J.R.C. to see the lads. I figured it was too late for a run. It would just get the blood pumping and I wouldn't be able to sleep. Going down to the bar, I'd probably end up at some party somewhere, and roll home tomorrow morning, stinking of stale drink, and probably vomit. I didn't think that would help, either. So I made myself some tea, ate the ham sandwich that Jean had ignored, and watched the T.V., feeling sorry for myself. Friday night T.V. is shite. I went to bed.

I woke at 8.00 the next morning. Jean was beside me in bed, out for the count. I decided to apply the old adage and let sleeping dogs lie. Or in this case a sleeping bitch. I got my running gear, changed in the bathroom and went for a run. I hadn't really been all that consistent lately so I made it a distance run. Ten miles, target time, one hour. I managed one hour ten. I cooled down and finished with press-ups sit-ups and stretches. I went in quietly and slipped into the shower, then into the bedroom and got some fresh clothes. Jean was still sleeping so I let her be, and prepped breakfast ... for one.

She still hadn't surfaced by the time I had finished so I did the dishes and headed out to the yard behind the shops. I kept the bike and the van there to make it difficult for terrorists to attach booby traps. Nevertheless, I checked underneath the van before I started work on it. I also checked round the bike too. I did a routine service on the van, then the bike. Then I washed them. Then I made some coffee. Then I checked on Jean. She was gone. Bitch hadn't even left a note. If that's how she wanted to play it, that was fine by me.

I went down to the J.R.C. to watch the match. There'd be some of the mates there and a bit of crack. It was a half hour walk there. Our J.R.C. was a lot more relaxed than the NAAFI so the redcoats liked to use it. Since there was a cup match on there were quite a few troops from the attached regiments in, and the place was pretty lively. The redcoats got to know pretty quick that they were welcome as long as they behaved. Our J.R.C. was somewhere to bring our wives and girlfriends, (but not at the same time!), so nobody stepped out of line. We also permitted senior NCOs and officers in for things like this. Hey, the profits went to us.

The match had finished and I was on my third pint and fourth game of pool when Jean arrived.

"I thought I might find you here."

I knew from her tone that it was time to get her out; otherwise I would be barred for a while. Jean seemed to have other ideas and started towards a group of English SNCOs. I asked Dave, my pool partner, to give me a hand getting her out quietly. I took her by the arm and asked her to come with me but she twisted away. One of the English guys thought he was quite the gallant and told me to leave the lady alone. Dave told him Jean was my wife, and reminded him he was a guest in our mess.

"I'm a sergeant," he said. The bar went silent. His mate took him by the arm and reminded his friend that it was a Junior Ranks Club and if there was any bother it was him who would go down. Technically he needed an invitation from one of us and permission from his Regimental Sergeant Major and ours to be there. Good sense prevailed and he apologised. I nodded to Dave who smoothed things over. Jean realised she wasn't going to get a result, so I was able to get her out. As we left I heard Dave sharing a joke with the Brits and the bar returning to business as normal.

We got into her car and headed home in silence. Jean was, of course, driving, as I was over the drink drive limit. We parked up in Jean's parking space, went into the flat, and she ripped into me. To cut it short I was accused of ignoring her because I went out without wakening her. I explained I went for a run, came back, she was still asleep and went out the back and was working on the van and bike. When I came in, she was up and away and hadn't left me a note. She told me I should have left her a note. I told her all she had to do was look out the bedroom or kitchen window and she'd have seen me. Then I realised she had opened the bedroom curtains before she left and must have seen me. So I threw that in her face, and ripped right back, telling her she was manufacturing an argument. The rest of the night was all video and no audio.

Sunday morning, we lay late. I tried to mend fences, but Jean seemed pre-occupied. I put my arm round her and tried to curl into her. She pushed my arm off, got out of bed and headed to the bathroom. It looked like this day was going to be a repeat of the previous night. I got up to make breakfast. Jean came up behind me in the kitchen and put her arms round my waist. She hugged close and said, "I'm sorry for all that. I'm just tired and stressed. I missed you so much."

"Me too. I love you, you know?"

"I know. Let's start today all over again."

I turned, took her hand, and started back to the bedroom. Jean threw her head back and laughed. The sound lifted me. I just loved her laugh. "No!" she said, "Let's start with a nice breakfast and you can tell me about your new job." I gave her my disappointed schoolboy look and trudged, theatrically, back to the cooker.

Over breakfast, I told her about the offer and the degree. She seemed to be interested and asked all the right questions at all the right points in the conversation, but I just felt there was something distracting her. I asked what she had been doing. All I got was generalisation and inconsequential. We realised it must have been a fortnight since we actually spent any real time together. Neither of us was sure when we had last made love. I thought it was maybe six weeks or more. We had been ships passing in the night and barely seeing each other. We were so busy, one day just ran into the next without us realising we had barely spoken. This definitely had to change. We spent the rest of the day visiting our families. We had dinner with John and Margaret in Aghalee and then rushed home for an early night.