Ally's Trouble Chapter One

Ally turned, dazed. Every sight and sound around her seemed magnified, yet blurred, incomprehensible. The world appeared to spin before her eyes. Whether due to the alcohol or the shock she had just received, which she was still struggling to process, she could not tell.

He was leaving. Because of her, he was was all her fault. Ugh. To Cornwall, of all places. As far away from her as he could manage without leaving the country. Why had she kissed him? Of all the stupid things... they'd had a perfectly good working relationship up till then, until all hell broke loose. Why couldn't he have just forgotten it? She'd made her feelings clear. Or had she? Well, she certainly had. Only now, she wasn't quite sure what those feelings were... it was her fault.

No. No, it wasn't. It was Polson's fault. If he hadn't spotted them by the lake that time they could have finished it and it would have actually been nothing and there would be absolutely no need to bring it up ever again, and Carl wouldn't be leaving. She had to let him know what was coming to him. She would have if Simon hadn't kept going on at her. Why shouldn't she cause a scene? It was Polson's night, and he didn't deserve it. But it was Carl's too, his last TA event, and she wouldn't be doing him any favours by ruining it. If she was going to sort out Polson once and for all, it'd have to be sneaky. She needed to sit down.

Frazer. Frazer's place. Stupid bloody Frazer. Yes, she decided, it was his fault. If he hadn't dragged her to that society dinner that caused it all... if he hadn't strayed, she wouldn't have been so bored. She wouldn't have invited Carl to that party, given him the wrong idea. If Carl hadn't said her name at Lloydy's he wouldn't have left. It was Frazer's fault. If only she could have vented her feelings at him. But no, he was away again. After finding that earring she'd gathered up her things and got out of the house.

God. Now Polson was bothering her, worrying about a stupid place setting, still fussed about his stupid event. And with Carl right there too. Of course he was bound to ask her about it. And now she had to admit it, how stupid she'd been, how wrong she'd been, feel the missed opportunity that was hanging round their heads like an impenetrable fog. The fog that neither could break, because they were currently in a mess hall with all of the most senior officers, one of whom was sitting almost directly opposite and peppering the conversation with painful little bullet-like comments. Besides, there was nothing to say, was there? He was leaving, why should she care? It wasn't like she had feelings for the man – not in that way, anyhow. They sat in a mourning silence, and she was desperate to know what he was thinking. She told herself that she was simply sad at the loss of her friend. Anything that her brain perceived as more was simply confusion brought on by the recent events. It had been one hell of a day. She surfaced back to the conversation.

'Northern girls are the best in the world.'

'I know.'

Careful there Carl. It's the last time you'll ever see these people, at least try to get through it with your reputation intact. The conversation was heading into dangerous waters, and Ally's head was spinning, so she headed outside for some air. She couldn't bear to be in there with him any longer.

She leaned against a wall, inhaling deeply the cool night air, relaxing at last, her head crammed to breaking point with half formed thought and heartaches which she couldn't escape from. But before she'd had time to recover, then there it was again. Polson's whiny, officious little voice droning its way into her brain. They way it had too frequently lately. She'd let him get to her. Suddenly it all seemed so meaningless. If becoming an officer meant bowing and scraping to someone like Polson, she'd do much better as an NCO. She could do without the excitement as she had done for so long.

So why didn't her brain agree? Why, despite all that logical thought, was that voice talking about stripes and respect still worming its way into her head? He was a small, spineless, weak little man. Even though he had authority over her, even though Carl was leaving, even though he'd won, he still couldn't get by unless he was making snide little hints and comments, just to make himself feel bigger. That slimy git had spent the last few weeks sucking the fight out of her. She'd spent all evening sat in a resentful silence. But he didn't deserve that respect, and he didn't know Ally Minshull. He hadn't won yet, and he didn't have a clue what was about to hit him.

Ally grinned at Mel as she launched herself off the platform and swung across the hall, landing in the scrum with a yell of pure exhilaration. This – this was the excitement she'd been craving. It had been a release, saying all that to Pete. It'd got it all off her chest. And now she was ready, she was back to her old self, for phase two. She'd winked at Polson, but it was also a signal to Carl – she knew he'd seen it. The revolution had begun.

Carl had seen enough to know that this was war. One of the things he'd most admired in Ally from the start was her fire, her wit, the way she stood up to the men and came out on top without ever losing her cool, just stating the facts in that cool, calm voice. Only those who knew her could know that those delicate tones could be so deadly. He'd seen enough to know that she'd succeeded in winding Polson up royally – and now it was his turn. He revelled in their teamwork – him knocking Polson's pride, her scampering about, chipping away at Pete's carefully built wall of respect. His eyes shone with malice and love as he watched her drive a watermelon into her Sergeant's face, her eyes wild and beautiful...

And then came the final battle, the breakdown. He had to admit credit to Matlock for delivering the final blow. He heard her call and turned instinctively to witness Pete Polson's fall from glory. They shared a smirk of triumphant pride, before she again disappeared into the crowd, and he was again left feeling disappointed. He had to get over her – was this ever going to go away?

Seemingly not. Sitting and observing the colours, mulling over the nights events and the many happy times in this drill hall, he heard the click of heels approaching. Could he hope... yes, there was her voice. Serious now. The celebration that should have been in her tone was bittered by the fact that they may now be separated... or was that yet more fanciful hope?

Ally tried to make light of the situation and she could tell that he was attempting to as well, but the laughter was soon gone, to be replaced by a sombre silence. She felt the sudden catch of air in her throat as he took her head in his hands, before stroking her hair as he had done at the lake. Then he ruined it by mentioning Frazer. But she'd left Frazer... she felt an alien sense of desperate disappointment as he turned to walk away.

Carl was proud. He'd done it, left with his dignity, without his usual sense of desperation. At first he had felt like kicking himself, but then realised that she had said 'goodbye'. A kiss would not change anything. When he heard the shower curtain swing and saw her standing there defiantly, he was determined not to let her wear him down. But her domineering drunkenness and his own surge of love took him over, as she stepped into the cubicle and he took her into his arms.

The next day he awoke, reeling from the unexpected burst of passion, and looked across at the empty pillow beside him. He hadn't woken up next to her, but this was definitely the next best thing.