CHAPTER 16
Pete was off for a fortnight in the summer break to the rehab centre at Headley Court near Leatherhead. For the first time in the best part of a year I was sleeping alone for an extended period, and it felt odd.

There was too much room, and it felt cold; on Mum’s suggestion I moved into on of the other rooms, so that it wouldn’t feel so much like he had left me. That worked…not at all, and I ended up moving back to Gosport for the weeks he was away.

This was the assessment time, when they would decide what sort of leg he could use best. His problem was that the amputation was above the knee, so that there were more mechanical and physical difficulties than would have been the case with a lower wound. I felt for him; not only was he without me, and that was not vanity speaking, he was away from the comfort zone that Ollie, Tyler and the others gave him.

I was definitely more weepy than I had been, and it wasn’t just the enforced separation. There was girliness coursing through me, and I just wished it would hurry up and do its job. Mum got so fed up with me mooning around that she dragged me off to a spa in Haslemere for a few days of swimming, massages and other treatments. I had a little moment of inspiration there, as not only were their meals delightful, and the service impeccable, but they also did marriages on site, in a little band stand affair on the edge of a lake at the foot of a great sweep of lawn.. Mum caught me reading their brochure.

“Darling, why do you think I chose this particular place? There is ample accommodation for those who need it, the food is indeed exquisite, and that is a view to treasure. And we may get the BOGOF.”

For those who do not buy their groceries in supermarkets, it stands for “Buy One, Get One Free”, the offer that used to be called “Two for the price of one”.

As opposed to airport shops, and motorway services, of course, where it is usually “One for the price of two”

I digress. “Mother, are you suggesting we do it as a double affair? The logistics….I mean, who would have first pick of the potential bridesmaids?”

I hugged her. “You really love him, don’t you, Mum, it’s not just the wild animal sex then”

I put on my stern face. “Mother, I know you were without him for a considerable period, but it is actually impossible to make up all that time in one weekend”

Up went the eyebrow. “A lady always strives to do her utmost, my dear”

She took a carefully elegant sip of her white wine, which was rather spoilt when she appeared to snort half of it out of her nose in a fit of giggles.

“Darling”, she said as she wiped her face, “I laugh so much more since you came home. You make a mother proud, not just with the way you have coped with such a catalogue of unpleasantness, but how gracefully you have done it. You also delight me with your elegance, I have obviously brought you up as befits a lady. There is one problem, however”

She leant closer to me and lowered her voice. “You really need to organise your underwear drawers better. I can never find what I want”

Was this some odd mother-daughter bonding institution I had missed, the elder borrowing skimpies from the younger for seduction purposes? And not telling her….I would store that admission away for future use.

“Laura, dear, may I make an observation? That style you adopted for your hair was born of necessity. I really think you do suit a much longer style, something softer rather than flirty, perhaps with a little colour to it

“It is just an observation, my dear, but I really think you would benefit from a visit to a proper stylist rather than having Ginny visit.”

She sipped her wine, entirely though her mouth this time, and asked the other question that had clearly been fermenting. “Darling, we will need to begin considering what we will be wearing”

“Mother, no we will not! Without a date, I will have no idea of what I will actually look like”

“Beautiful, as always of course!”

“No, Mother” I whispered, “the final size of my bust…”

Sometimes, flatteringly, she appears to forget.

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My soldier was soon back, with a brand new leg. This was rather interesting; I had sort of assumed that his new limbs would be some variant on a shop dummy idea, a plastic replica of a real leg. This device was like an aircraft undercarriage thingy, all rods and struts, with a foot shape at the end of it. At least, that is what he showed me after I had put him down, as my mother phrased it.

“Love, what are we doing for the Summer?”

Right out with it.

“I fancy some sun, and a bit of luxury, and you could do with getting some swimming in. We could go down to Nice or something”

“Pete Hall, you just want me to get my tits out on the beach!"

“The thought had occurred to me”

Cheeky sod.

“Well, Lor, they do sort of belong to me as well!”

“Pete, if you keep that up I shall stop taking the magic tit-growing medicine. Or perhaps start slipping it into your own cuppa… then you can have some of your very own to play with”

“Not the same at all, love. And I did bring this back for you…”

Thank god Mother was out of the room at that point. She took the hint a little later and went home, and, well, he had been away for two weeks with a lot of men.

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Pete’s idea for a break turned out to be rather a nice one, and with remarkably little fuss we flew out for ten days of sun. It was rather surreal, in the end. I had to use my old passport, and the ticket was in the name John Evans. At the first security check on boarding I handed over my letter from Mary with the boarding card and passport, and apart from a little widening of the eyes we were through. Not bad for a little provincial airport next to the M27. So next to it, in fact, that an aircraft once parked itself on the motorway.

I loved the flight, the difference in view from on high reminding me of how I first came back to life, and being shorter than Pete meant I could legitimately claim the window seat. We had his wheelchair in the hold, but he had insisted on walking to the aircraft. We still took the priority boarding, though.

Pete had picked Gibraltar for our little holiday, and I had another emotional moment on thinking that this was our first proper holiday together, but certainly not our last. There was a Levanter blowing as we flew in, the Rock looming out of mist as we swung round south of it to make our approach from the West.

I had absolutely no problems with entry, the only downside being the rather surprising smokiness of everything. People smoked, everywhere. We took a taxi to the hotel, which was an experience. Scooters and mopeds buzzed and farted everywhere, but nobody seemed to hit anyone, and horns were left unblown

Pete had found a deal for the Rock hotel, which was supposedly the top place, but had a faded charm on the outside that didn’t match the rather smart interior. That was our first problem. As we entered, I looked for the lifts. They were up a flight of stairs. Arse.

To my surprise, Pete just grinned. “Watch this, love”

Step up with good leg, feet (yes feet) together. Step up again…step, together, step, together, my man was using stairs.

Bloody hormones.

We had a room with a balcony looking over the bay to Algeciras, and I was a little surprised when, after we had entered the room and I had flung open the French windows, Pete shut them rather quickly.

“What’s up love?”

He just pointed. There was a bloody great monkey sitting on the flat roof below us. Five minutes later the hairy sod was sat on our balcony.

We had our first meal in the bar, as the sun went down spectacularly over Spain to the West. The staff fussed round Pete, even more after they found out he was ex-forces, and I began to understand why. This place had forces blood soaked into it over hundreds of years, and they had long memories. Pete wasn’t on a seaside holiday in some generic resort, he was n a place that knew what he was and understood.

There are times I realise very clearly why I love him.