CHAPTER 55
Fossy (remember that, Jill, I told myself) looked shocked, and for the first time in all the decades I had known him there was a hint, a suspicion, of fear. There was a perceptible pause before he answered.

“Why do you ask, Stewart?”

The hard little man looked at his wife, who nodded slightly, and then leant forward, resting his arms on the table.

“Just curious. Sal and I have sort of grown into her work, and she’s had me on a few courses to get my own certificates. Helps bring a different perspective to things, sometimes. And that can be vital, right, love?”

“Aye, but what makes you think I might have been in the Forces?”

The rest of the chatter had stopped, and all except James were paying close attention, and I saw that Jim Forster’s was in very sharp focus indeed. Stewart smiled.

“If I can’t pick out a squaddy at thirty paces by now…yeah, squaddy. Not a bootneck…PBI, no?”

Fossy sighed once again. “Why, Stewart, why do you ask?”

“Ah. Not good, mate? Been there. Tell you what, you answered my question, so I’ll let you have some of your own, OK? Right, Sal, be off and bring me at least half a duck, and get something for yourself while you’re up”

I actually laughed out loud at that, and got a don’t-even-think-about-it nudge from Larinda. Jim visibly relaxed, and turned to his namesake for some quiet chat about the number of side dishes on the menu. Fossy sighed again, and slumped.

“I was a Fusilier, for a while. Did a stint…you were there, weren’t you?”

Stewart’s smile was a little twisted. “A few places, mate, some better than others. Doesn’t go away, does it?”

“Thought so. Look, not now, aye? Another time, later, maybe, but not here, please?”

He looked away for a second, then back at Stewart. “Is that what you meant by courses and shared work? The night horrors?”

I realised that my friends were totally absorbed, even Jim, though he was making a big play of talking to or at or with or through James. Sally and Alec, though, their eyes were like missile sights, locked on everything the two said. It was Alec who broke the silence.

“Yes, John, Fossy, spot on. Perhaps…shit, Jill, would you really mind if I had a chat with our friends here? Not official, but I just feel that we need to clear the air a little or this will be a crap evening, and you deserve better. Gents, the gents’, please”

Three down. Jim started up, and Rachel pushed him down into his seat. “No, love. A few minutes”

There was a tic to his mouth at that, and when I replayed what she had said, I had to wonder. Terry suddenly demanded the finest spring rolls known to humanity, and he wanted them here, and he wanted them now, and there was a little bit of laughter, and five minutes later the three were back, and it was smiles, and softer looks, and I saw Sally reach under the table for her husband’s hand with a look of utter and complete devotion in her eyes. The conversation was lighter from then on, and to my delight my shattered little man was suddenly acting as if the weight of ages that had bent his shoulders had taken a walk for the evening.

“How do you know John?”

I was buried in a plateful of seaweed at the time, so it took a little while to answer.

“I worked with him, Sally, we both did, Rachel and me”

Sally smiled. “Either of you responsible for his nickname?”

Rachel sniffed. “Employee confidentiality, Sally!” she said haughtily, before collapsing in giggles.

“Sorry, John, mate, and you are a mate now, yeah, but you really were a right cu– sorry, all, but it has taken us all a while to get to know him properly, and that didn’t happen in the office, yeah?”

John smiled, in the most natural way, and nodded. “Yes, and it has taken me a while to understand that. Sally here is…efficient, but hardly painless. Things have come out, but rather than that I would like to put more things in. More food? James?”

“I have had six plates so far, John”

Almost all of rice and nothing more, but it was still a lot. Karen gave Terry a look, and he just smiled and made a calming gesture. Leave him, he’s OK for now. And a seventh plate of egg fried rice was delivered to him. After the initial confrontation, it had become a truly enjoyable night, and towards the end Stewart and Fossy started to loosen up, and some rather salty anecdotes came out from behind curtains, or perhaps from under rocks. Practical jokes, foolish or downright thick officers, eating competitions involving the most unlikely substances…whatever had been said had opened up the ex-soldier like a sardine key. It was Rachel, though, that brought the evening effectively to an end. I don’t know exactly what she and Jim were doing to each other under the table, but my mother was actually giggling watching them, and Neil just sighed theatrically.

“I hope you two wash your hands before any more finger food”

And it was time. Even James could fit no more in, and so we bade him and his parents good night and trotted along to my place for the last of the evening’s social bonding. I noticed the pairings forming up as we walked: Mam leaning on Ralph more than she actually seemed to need; Will and Neil deep in conversation; Rachel and Jim each almost inside the other’s clothing; Sally and Stewart AND John arm in arm; Alec and Fossy more animated and vocal than I remembered seeing; and me, in my heels a little unsteady, but with the woman I now knew I loved more than anyone before or since keeping me in a straight line.

She opened the door, and I put the kettle on as Rachel…how the hell did she know where we kept our drinks? Gin, vodka, whisky, white wine, in separate glasses for different people, and it was good, and we were friends together. What was more, at no point did I feel that I was playing a part, not like I had all the long years that lay wasted behind me. I had put on a quieter Hawkwind disc, Ambient Anarchists, more mood music than space rock, and even Mam seemed, well, not to actively dislike it. Then Larinda lowered the tone with some ‘Bread’ from her own collection, or rather her part of our collection, and it rose up and slapped me in the face, once more, how much I loved her. Perhaps the alcohol had found its voice, but I didn’t think so then, and I don’t now. I caught myself looking at her, and then Mam looking at me, and there were no words, none necessary.

Eventually, much later, perhaps three in the morning, Rachel and Jim excused themselves, and like a double planet span out of the door towing their satellites, the brother, two shrinks, one marine commando and a very happy little birdwatcher.

Mam had already crept off with her gentleman friend, and never was that a truer phrase. That just left Will and Neil, and Larinda disappeared long enough to find our spare duvets and my camping mats, and then she simply turned and kissed me so deeply I nearly fell onto their bedding. She whispered into my ear.

“If I ravish you now, will I still get breakfast?”

I don’t care–well, I do, obviously, deeply---how female my mind is, but my body, oh yes, it responded in as male a way as possible, and the sight of her and me in lip lock put a grin on Neil’s face and left Will’s jaw on his chest. She dragged me out…and some time later it was properly morning, and some time after that she let me shower.

I found myself singing, some old Geordie song or other, and then I realised it wasn’t just an echo in the cubicle but my mother, singing with me from the kitchen, and then Neil joining in, and I was so happy I had to stay in the shower till the tears stopped.

Rachel was over at ten, with a few bodies in tow, or at least two brothers. One looked almost goofy in his smiling daze, and the other just relaxed. That was something that came in ambush to me: John Forster had never been relaxed, not as I had known him. The tension of the violent bully, the careful defensiveness of the failed shirtlifting soldier, they were what I was accustomed to. That morning, though, he was unlocked, unbound.

“Aye, Jill, that was a canny night---shut it, you two, I could hear. No, I mean those two lads, they know, aye? I haven’t had that for years. Even the other one, the old lad, he’s not stupid, is he?”

“John is far from daft. Just a little wrong, aye?”

Fossy nodded. “Aye, lass. Wrong choices, a bit, but more, well, skewed away from the world?”

I gave him my own nod. “So what was it about the other two?”

He looked off into his own private distance. “Alec…well, let’s say Alec’s gaydar is working well. That broke a bit of ice, in the end. I know what I am, Jill, but I don’t normally get to talk about it in a casual way. No. Casual’s not quite the right word. Normal. Conversational. What’s on the telly sort of thing, not ‘what’s it like when you…’ shite. And Stewie…”

That brought me a flat stare, a stare with a hint of pain in it. “I kept a lot hidden, me, hidden from you, from Jim, from everybody, almost from me, aye? Then, well, I saw what real bullies are, and real men, and fuck it, I didn’t want to play any more, aye? Stewie, he’s been there, he’s seen the same shit”

I realised he was suddenly getting close to tears. “That’s new, Jill. That’s important. Perhaps you can understand, you’ve been there too. Hiding all that time, playing that game, matching the arseholes sin for sin, and there’s nobody but yourself and a glass to talk to. You’ve had enough, I’ve had enough. There’s more…”

He stopped to dab at his eyes.

“Jill, there’s a world out there, and it’s ours, aye? Let’s go and grab it by the balls before it gets away. Is there more tea in that pot?”