My contribution to the 'Where's Molly?' challenge. Thanks to Kuia for getting the rusty cogs whirring again
The wail of the siren was fading into the distance as Molly became aware of the damp patch of drool under her cheek. The flat smelt bad; worse than usual. Stale cooking smells, the lingering scent of last night's curry doing battle with value washing powder and old cigarette smoke. The sofa cushion, stuck damply to her cheek added it's own layer of stench, beer and sweat. Molly stopped her thoughts there. She had seen what her parents got up to on this sofa, she didn't want to think about what else her skin had been in contact with.
Sitting up she cursed the noisy ambulance. It felt like a lifetime since she had any sleep more substantial than a nap. Once upon a time she had loved the noise of the city outside the door, the constant buzz and activity had meant she never really felt alone. Just outside was a world that never truly went dark, that was never completely quiet, all around were people and lives being lived. Now she wished it would all go away, that the world would stop just for a few hours just so she could get some sleep. She had thought she could handle the sleep deprivation; she'd done her fair share of exercises, snatching sleep here and there between long ruck marches and night manoeuvres. The light headedness and slight feeling of disconnection with the world was familiar and she knew how to work with that; but there had always been others with her, when one was flagging the rest would buoy them up, the strength of the team coming into play, drawing what they needed from each other to get them through the next mile or hour or day. This wasn't like that. She was alone, and she felt it.
The woman below was cleaning, Molly could make out the muffled drone of the hoover through the floor. She could hear the bang and scrape of furniture being moved about through the walls, doors and windows opened and slammed shut. Every noise set her on edge, the tension creeping up her back and through her shoulders. She glanced at the bundle in the Moses basket, a small pink mouth hung open slackly, a gentle snore emanated from the jumble of blankets. He looked fast asleep, like nothing would wake him, she relaxed a little, straightening her crumpled t shirt. Lifting her arms to re-tie her ponytail she caught a whiff of her body, stale sweat and regurgitated milk. She wondered when she had last showered. Two days ago, maybe three? She couldn't quite remember. Still, it wasn't like she would be seeing anyone soon, or not anyone that mattered.
Rubbing the dried saliva from her cheek she cautiously stood up, making her way to the hallway. A cheery whistling from the walkway signalled the arrival of the postie. Molly rushed to the door, opening it before the letters were thrust through the box. The rattling box that Dave hadn't got around to fixing for the last seven years.
"Oh! Morning love" the postie grinned passing her a handful of white windowed envelopes and junk mail leaflets. She glanced through them hopefully for a flimsy blue aerogramme, even though she knew it was a long shot. "Ere, don't take this the wrong way or nothing, but you look knackered." He carried on his chirpy monologue oblivious to Molly's glares. "Little one keeping you on your toes? Was that him I heard yesterday? He's got a good set of lungs I'll say" she let the inane chatter wash over her, it was the first adult conversation she had heard all day, Tommy's hungover grunts and Bella's occasional comments as she looked up from her phone screen hardly counted as conversation. "Maybe get some rest while you can eh darlin?" The postie was making his way back down the walkway before Molly could even drag her attention to respond. She dumped the envelopes down on the kitchen counter and made her way to the kettle.
Feeling slightly more human for a cup of tea Molly leant against the kitchen counter. The place was a tip. Plates were abandoned in the sink, the water long gone cold and covered with a greasy film that the cheap washing up liquid couldn't touch. A trail of crumbs lead from the toaster back to the bread, the packet open and the slices spewing from its mouth, drying and curling at the edges. The spread had been left out, knives poked from its yellow surface, a pot of jam, insides scraped clean next to it. She sighed. Not one of the little bleeders had done a bloody thing to help this morning as she had balanced the screaming baby against her shoulder, a not too clean tea towel draped over it to catch the dribble as she nagged Martin into his school shoes, sending the older kids off to school with a couple of quid each because she hadn't got time to make their packed lunches. When her purse had been emptied she saw Tommy out the door with a shrug and half a packet of biscuits, if he could find money for bottles of cider to get bladdered on he could find himself something to eat.
She kept her ears trained for the slightest snuffle from the living room, but so far all had been quiet. She looked around at the mess, knowing that the longer she left it the less time she would have to tackle it. She was living on borrowed time as it was, the baby was going to wake sooner rather than later now and when he did there wouldn't be time for anything. Her mind filled with all the other things she should have done instead of wasting her time leaning against the counter staring into space; she could have had a shower, or done the washing up, or put the latest load of washing away. She could have gone to the toilet. The pressure in her bladder confirmed that of all the possible options open to her this was a priority. Sneaking past the living room door she peeked in, his little pink hands were now flung up into the air, like a frozen conductor, his head turned the other way, as his mouth moved, silently gumming at an invisible teat. She had five minutes tops before he woke. Moving as quickly and silently as she could, she grinned half-heartedly to herself; at least some of her training was coming in handy.
Halfway down the stairs she heard small snuffling noises, another minute or so. She grabbed a bottle from the fridge, flicking on the kettle to warm some water. When he woke he would be hungry and ready to let everyone know about it. She looked at the clock trying to remember when she had last fed him. It had been dark, everyone had been asleep. 5? 4? Too bloody long ago. She cursed herself for not looking at the clock earlier, he was hours past feeding time.
Then without warning a wail cut through the air, full of fury at waking to find himself alone and with an empty stomach. "Shit" Molly muttered under her breath "Coming, Billy" she shouted through the kitchen hatch, as if it would make any sort of difference. She picked up the squirming red faced fury, his eyes screwed tight and mouth open wide screaming his displeasure. Cradling him against her shoulder he screamed in her ear, slightly lower in volume and wavering as he barely stopped to breathe in. "Shh, shhh" Molly held him close, bobbing up and down as she made her way into the kitchen and plopped the bottle into warm water. "Not long now" she racked her brain trying to remember where she had left the colic drops as Billy continued to wail against her ear. Finally she found them on top of the fridge and dropped them onto his tongue. Billy spluttered, more outraged that whatever being poured down his throat wasn't the milk he was expecting. His face grew a deeper shade of red and the wailing rose a notch to full out screaming.
Bottle in hand Molly finally sat on the sofa, trying to contain an angry baby in the crook of her arm and get him to take the bottle. The colic drops were doing their job, for every three gulps of air the screaming baby took another would bubble up, the orange scented belches wafting towards Molly's nose. She gently rubbed the side of his cheek, trying to get him to turn his head towards the teat, but he burrowed his head deeper into her armpit "Wouldn't go there if I were you mate" she muttered, sitting him up higher and rubbing the teat against his lip "I've been in nicer smelling dorm tents the morning after curry night". A few burps later he seemed to understand what she was trying to do, and took the bottle, gulping through hiccups. Molly relaxed as he settled, starting to empty the bottle steadily.
Her phone buzzed on the coffee table in front of her; number not available. She let it ring off before realising that this might not be someone trying to flog her PPI. Cursing herself she picked it up hoping that they would call again. Her instinct was right; it rang and she swiped at the screen almost dropping it in her haste. "Hello?" A moment of static followed by the faintest echo of her own voice then a pause
"Hello darlin'" came the response.
"What the….?" She stopped herself even though 2 month old Billy probably was bound to hear worse growing up in this house.
"I thought you might be missing us"
"Mansfield, are you seriously telling me you're using up your minutes to call me?"
"Nah, got me mobile"
"Except you aren't supposed to be calling with that"
"Who cares?"
"You will when the boss catches you"
"He ain't gonna"
"Hmmm"
"Anyways, what you up to?"
"Feeding a baby"
"Something you ain't tellin us Molls?"
"Ha ha, nah, it's my brother. Just minding him for a few days"
"Didn't think you was the mothering type. Never was with us"
"Well 2 month olds don't tend to cut themselves shaving cos they won't use a mirror and then ask for a plaster every other day." Billy had reached the end of his bottle now and was squirming again. Molly stuck the phone on speaker and started to rub his back. "So, how is it?"
"Boring as hell. We're still in Nairobi, dunno when we gonna be moving. This place is a shithole and they won't let us out."
Molly could just hear other voices on the line, then a scuffling noise. In the distance she could make out Mansfield's voice protesting and a muffled "oi, give it back"
"Molls!" the line suddenly when loud again, startling Billy who gave a small squawk.
"Brains, you numbnut, don't you get caught and all"
"Nah, no one about, besides it's Mansfield's phone they'll confiscate."
"So Mansfield says it's a dump"
"Too bloody right" Fingers chimed in.
"Hey Molls!"
"Dangles!" Molly smiled, her boys; her unit. She could imagine them all, crouched over the phone, dusty fatigues and sun burnt skin, just as they had been in Afghan. She missed them so much it was palpable. She felt the strain of being apart from them, the worry that she wasn't there to help or look after them.
"So come on then, what's it like? Anyone else there I should know about?"
The other end of the line went unnaturally quiet before Brains spoke. "Nah, don't think so. We won't know who else we're with until we get to the camp"
"What about the King?" Chimed in Mansfield
"Who?"
"We got this journalist with us. Baby sitting job" explained Fingers. "Except Mansfield heard he was from Channel 4 and reckons that if he makes an impression this bloke will get him on gogglebox. The bloke's called Elvis, so of course twat features here starts singing 'Viva Las Vegas' every time he sees him"
"Uh-uh" Mansfield gave his best Elvis impression.
"If he's a journalist, I'm the Queen of Sheba" chimed in Brains "nah, I'm betting he's special forces, going in undercover"
"What makes you say that?" Molly switched Billy to the other shoulder.
"He's got Rupert written all over him, rod up his arse, never says a word, always watching. There's no way he ain't army"
"Could have been in before?" Molly pointed out.
"Yeah but if he had he'd say, and if he was there ain't no way he'd need to be with us. He'd know how to handle things and that. Nah, they ain't telling us something." Brains took a deep breath "so you better stop with the Elvis jokes, OK Mansfield? You're gonna get us all in the shit otherwise"
"I'm only having a laugh. Fuck all else to do" Molly could hear his intake of breath.
"Don't tell me your back on the fags Mansfield" she scolded "you said you gave up."
"Molls…" He whined
"Don't give me that" she pounced on him "too much dosh you said"
"Yeah but they're dead cheap out here. Local lads got me bunch"
"Should have known" she sighed "just don't go begging the medic for cough sweets when your lungs pack in half way through the tour."
"Molls, your gonna have to keep him in sunscreen, the divot only bought a tiny bottle with him" Dangles laughed
"Bloody hell, you've been there three days, ain't it a bit early to start with the care packages?" Molly smiled to herself, they had a sucker on the outside now. She would be posting off parcels of pants, marmite and soap for the duration. She would make a show of it being a piss take but she knew she was going to do it. If she wasn't going to be there to dress their wounds and listen to their gripes in person then this would be some consolation to her.
Her bobbing and rubbing finally worked its magic on Billy; he let out a huge burp. Holding him in front of her she smiled, marvelling briefly at his soft pudgy cheeks, how she could see the echoes of her brothers and sisters in him. Suddenly she wasn't smiling any more; another burp rumbled up from deep inside him, bringing with it what felt like half his feed; warm milk hit her full in the chest, splattering over her t shirt, the sofa and the floor. "Ah, Jesus Christ on a bike" she yelled.
"What!" Her phone squawked.
"Bloody kids just puked all over me! Ah hell, that's gross" she squealed as the warm milky contents of Billy's stomach started to seep through her t shirt to her underwear.
The tiny speaker on her phone couldn't cope with the laughter coming down the line, it gave out a weird static noise, occasionally half a word could be made out. Billy, upset by the racket and the loss of half his feed started crying, Molly didn't know what to do, she couldn't cuddle him without covering him in milky sick. Transferring him from one arm to another she peeled the t shirt off, using the dry parts to wipe down the sofa. Sitting in her bra she shivered, clasping the baby against her. Slowly he calmed down,as did the lads on the other end of the line.
"Can't be worse than dealing with numbnuts here after seven pints and kebab" yelled Fingers, and she could just make out the sounds of a muffled scuffle as one of them took the slight out on the other. "That kebab was well dodgy" came a faint response from Mansfield sounding like he was speaking from underneath a pillow.
The laughter returned, along with a slightly quieter wailing from Billy as he started gumming at the edge of her bra cup "nowt there mate" Molly murmured as she tried to remove him.
Suddenly the other end of the line went quiet apart from a hurried scuffling noise.
"Any of you lot want to tell me what the bloody hell is going on here?" The tone and voice was unmistakable, sending shivers down Molly's spine. She could see him in her mind's eye, legs firmly planted apart, arms crossed high over his chest, broad shoulders blocking the light from the door, the expression on his face harsh as he asserted his authority. He always seemed to take a hard line at the start of tours, softening slightly as his confidence in the position and abilities of his platoon grew. Even after all this time he would be the same; probably even more so given that he had been out of day to day command as he went through the long rehabilitation process. Molly's throat went dry as she listened to everything down the phone line.
Heavy footsteps punctuated the silence, her heart beat rapidly in her chest as if she were there. There was a rustling and crackle as the phone was picked up, he obviously didn't realise that the call was still connected.
"Fingers?" His tone was quieter, calm even, but Molly could hear the authority underneath it.
"Sir"
"This your phone?"
"No sir"
There was a padding of boots on concrete.
"Dangles?"
"No sir"
Molly realised she was holding her breath. She knew she should kill the call, but the sound of his voice was compelling. She could picture him clearly, his hair cut shorter than usual to last as long as possible, a hint of pink to his skin, slightly burnt, unused to the change of climate. His eyes would be narrowed, not warm, or playful or full of want as she knew they could be. His lips set in a thin line; he would be drawn to his full height, holding himself upright, a match for anyone in stature and bearing. She shivered, goose flesh blooming across her chest followed by a flush of heat. Her skin tightened as she remembered his eyes on her, his lips, his hands, his skin moving against hers. Unconsciously she tightened her grip on Billy, causing him to shriek in surprise.
"Bollocks" she muttered, loosening her grip on the baby and trying to silence him by letting him suck on her finger. But now she was trapped, unable to reach the phone to disconnect the call.
"It's mine sir" Mansfield spoke up.
"Mansfield?"
"Yes sir"
"And how are Al Shabab this afternoon? Everything nice and cozy in Mogadishu is it? Just sorting out the last few details before they come down here and blow us all to kingdom fucking come?"
Silence filled the room. Molly barely dared to breathe or move. Don't say something bloody stupid Mansfield, she willed over thousands of miles. Keep it zipped.
"Dunno sir. I was just calling the missus. Do you want to say hello, si-". The line went dead.
Another long night was fading into a grey dawn. Molly watched the edges of the curtains grow lighter, picking out the shadows of the room, deepening them before the light grew and blurred their edges. Trying to sleep was futile now, the light and the army habit of early starts meant that it wouldn't come, no matter how much she wanted it.
Slowly and carefully she sat up, trying not to disturb Martin who lay diagonally across two thirds of the bed, his short brown hair sticking up, his thumb half out of mouth. Of course he was sleeping now. She probably couldn't wake him if she tried. He hadn't been so keen to sleep at 3am when he had come to the bed. He had lain next to her fiddling with her hair, his legs in constant motion against her back as he had taken the rare opportunity of having his big sister all to himself and chattered about everything that came into his head. He was at an age where tales of superheroes and soldiers merged into one and his idea of what his sister did verged between gruesome adventure and impossible feats of super powers.
Easing herself off the bed she checked on Billy in his Moses basket. He too seemed fast asleep, she wriggled into her dressing gown, tightening the belt around her waist before creeping out of the room and down the stairs.
Waiting for the kettle to boil she felt her phone vibrate in her pocket. Her heart leapt as she saw it was the message she had been waiting for. She flicked off the kettle and replied "yes".
The next five minutes dragged. She tried to be patient, but every time her screen went dark she panicked, fearing her signal had gone. The phone links had a habit of being patchy, she knew that and she hoped that it hadn't dropped out altogether. Eventually it rang. She pounced on it, answering it before the first ring had finished.
"Morning beautiful."
"You wouldn't be saying that if this was skype" she tucked her hair behind her ear, now lank and greasy on day four.
"Having a hard time?" his tone was gentle.
"I don't know why I thought this was a good idea" she looked around at the mess in the kitchen that had predictably worsened overnight. "I ain't volunteering to watch the kids again any time soon"
"Tell me about it" there was a frustrated edge to his voice.
"You weren't expecting the lads to go easy on you was you? You know that ain't their thing"
He sighed "I don't know what's got into them. It's like herding cats. I had to haul Mansfield over the coals yesterday, daft beggar was…." He paused weighing up his short call time allowance and whether it was worth spending it on moaning about the antics of 2 section "well let's just say that he's been given the opportunity to experience life away from technology for a few weeks"
"He's not gonna like that"
"Shouldn't be taking the piss then, should he? I don't know what's got into him or the other lads, they seem to be taking a few too many liberties, showing off to the new platoon members"
"It'll settle down it's just a bit early tour dick waving ain't that what you used to call it?"
"Yeah. I suppose so" he said begrudgingly "when are Belinda & Dave due back?" He changed the subject swiftly; he knew Molly's loyalties were sometimes in conflict when he spoke about his platoon; many of them had been her section mates and their bond was still strong despite her no longer being part of the under-5s.
"Later today, thank god. I can't wait to get home and sleep a full night in my own bed" she paused; their bed it would still smell of him, she would leave the sheets on as long as hygienically possible or beyond.
"Make the most of it; the army haven't made the beds any more comfortable or commodious since I last slept on them"
"Don't give me that; you Officers with your private rooms, dunno you're born mate" she grinned, waiting to see if he took the bait.
The line went silent, fleetingly she worried that she had over-stepped the mark. He sounded weary, not excited as had expected. He had wanted to get back into theatre for so badly, it had been a long hard slog, months of work at Headley to get back to the physical fitness that he'd thought he would never attain. She knew how much more pressure he would feel; to keep on top of everything; to prove himself, to repay all the faith, effort and skill that everyone had given to get him where he was.
"The lads say you got some journalist embedded with you" she thought dropping them in it a little for the sake of changing the topic was worth it.
"Gosh, they were chatty"
"Don't give them shit ok? You worried that they're going to be a liability?"
"2 section or the journalist?" she could hear the smile in his voice
"You know what I mean. Course Brains reckons he ain't a journalist"
"Hmmm" his response was noncommittal "Don't get much past Brains these days"
She shivered, cold gooseflesh sweeping over her shoulders despite the warmth of the cosy kitchen in East Ham and her thick dressing gown. She swallowed, trying to make the next words come out of her mouth sound normal. She failed. "Oh" she squeaked. Suddenly it made sense. His hesitancy, the strain and worry that she had heard in his voice. This was bigger than he had let on. Of course it was, that was obvious. Observer mission they had said. Joint operations with Kenyan Defence Forces. She had thought that his experience with the ANA was why they had wanted him but now it was becoming obviously that this was a cover. Her brain ran over what little she knew about where he was going.
She had heard of RAMC missions to Kenya; field hospitals, knowledge sharing of the medical advances that had come out of Afghan. Helping the KDF meet the pressures of the long running conflict with Somalia. Internal terrorist threat, travel advisories, vague memories of bombs somewhere in Africa….had that been Kenya or somewhere else? Sudan? Was that near?
"Look" he cleared his throat "Time's nearly up. We'll be off soon, travelling. I won't be able to call for a few days. Maybe a week"
"OK" she blinked back the tears. They could wait until later, she knew the drill.
"I forgot to check the tyre pressures on the car before I left. Can you do it next time you fill up? All the info is inside the flap for the petrol cap." he cleared his throat.
"Tyre pressures?" she couldn't keep the incredulity out of her voice.
"I just want you to be safe"
"Ditto"
He gave a small snort, she knew he would be smiling. Neither of them spoke for a moment.
"I have to go."
"I love you"
"Ditto"