"Do you think he and Nan are doing it?"
"Who and Nan?"
"Merv the Perv."
"Doing it?" Molly laughed: "Shagging an ex-plod would be too much, Bella, even for Nan."
"Why's he living in her house then?"
"I dunno. I'm not Nan's keeper. He's a lodger. Perhaps it's to help with the spare room tax."
"If I lived there with Jay she wouldn't have to pay. I'm family."
Molly turned to her sister as they arrived at their caravan door. "Well seeing as you're only 15, she probably doesn't want you living with Jay."
Bella pulled a face: "Some of us don't want to go to college, or join the army like you".
Nan opened the door, spachelor in hand. "You talking about that scrote who can't keep it in his trousers?" He's after a four by four, I'm telling you."
"Four by four?"
"Four kids by four different women. He's collected three already. You'd better bleeding well make sure you're ain't the fourth Bella."
"Yes Nan," Bella said scowling behind her back.
Molly sat down on the caravan step to take off her running shoes. Her heart was still juddering after that early morning run across a drizzly beach and her legs ached. Christ, she needed to run more often, or she'd be seriously unfit when it came to rejoining the army. Mentally she felt better though. There was nothing like a run to chase her out of another early morning dream about Charles.
Her dreams about Charles always started the same way; she'd be in the medical tent at the FOB, slowly peeling off her pants, the rest of her kit lying discarded around her feet, while Charles watched her from the unzipped entrance of the tent in his No.1 dress uniform, a guarded expression on his face. She'd whisper to him to come in, to lift her onto the treatment bed so they could make love. It was suggestive and with soldiers wandering around outside, highly erotic.
But just as she was wrapping her naked legs around his, the rough wool of his trousers grazing the soft skin of her inner thigh, someone would interrupt them. Mostly the intruder was Smurf with a Welsh song and a cup of tea, but sometimes it was Mansfield with a plate of sausages asking for suntan cream, or Kinders wanting to talk about Badrai. Once it was even Major Beck, improbably wearing a pink, lacy nightie, instructing her to "Do well, apply yourself and you'll have a good tour." Stripped and exposed, the humiliation would creep over Molly and she'd drift awake disoriented and frustrated.
After those dreams the bittersweet memories of their hotel-room tryst – that she was trying so hard to forget – would torment her for the rest of the day.
Sometimes she could hear Charles' voice in her head so clearly it was as if he was standing right behind her in his sarong, his finger slipping under her lace underwear and whispering into her ear:
"I need to see you naked, beautiful, just the way I remember you."
Consumed with desire she'd be on the verge of capitulating and calling his mobile. But then the biting pain of their furious argument would intervene and she'd renew her determination not to contact him again.
In another – fantasy – world Charles would have been her love. Even in this life, he was pretty unbeatable. But she knew their relationship was not to be. They came from different worlds, they'd got off to a bad start, and in the painful, shadowy aftermath of Smurf's death, the frail beauty of their love had wilted.
Looking back, she understood now that although he was a brilliant leader, somehow in Afghan Charles needed more confidence. With much to lose, he had started out wary and mistrustful, until certainty in her had fired up his soul. And what an amazing, generous lover he'd turned out to be!
Only then she'd trampled over the relationship and crushed their hopes with it. No wonder he was still angry, bitter. She wasn't sure he – they'd – ever get over it. And she couldn't bear that. She'd dodged her father's fury throughout her childhood and one thing she knew, she wasn't going to live with such rage again.
In Qaseem's poetry book – anthology – she'd found some lines from a poem by a geezer called Michael Drayton, about how lovers should meet after a break up.
'… Shake hands for ever, cancel all our Vows,
And when we meet at any time again,
Be it not seen in either of our Brows
That we one jot of former Love retain…'
If she ever met Charles again, this was the way she wanted it to be. It was much better to have an agreement of protective regret than to raise her hopes with an unforgettable reunion shag, only have them crushed by a bitter clash afterwards.
She looked around her at the beach, emptied of its usual holiday crowd in the cold drizzle. Some bloody sunny August bank holiday this was!
When Molly was young, she'd have given anything for a caravan holiday. Her mum and dad had never had the dough, but school friends returned from summer holidays with sticks of rock, tiny glued shell animals and plastic windmills on sticks, chattering about swimming in the waves, making sandcastles and eating 99s. As they'd got older they'd boasted about hanging around slot machines, slow dancing with boys at caravan site discos and getting sand in their pants when 'doing it' on the beach. Stuck all summer in the stifling heat of their cramped East London flat Molly listened to their exotic tales with more than a touch of envy.
But looking around in the blue rain at the fish and chip strewn baby swings, the battered concrete ice cream stall, and the shabby peeling caravans, all she could think of was that compared to a cliff top hotel in Pembrokeshire, a caravan holiday in Devon with Bella, Nan and Dirty Merv was all a bit shit.
Inside the caravan Nan was cooking breakfast for Merv, who was sitting at the table in a stained baggy vest and brown trousers, clipping stray hairs from a bushy ginger moustache.
"You want some fried bread, Molly?"
"No thanks Nan."
"There's tea in the pot. Pour a cup for Merv, will you?"
Molly placed the cup near her Nan's lodger and slid onto the bench opposite with a bowl of cereal.
Merv looked up at her over the top of his glasses and nodded approvingly. "You've been out running this morning? You look all sweaty."
Molly didn't know what to say. He didn't seem to want a reply anyway. He was too busy stroking Vaseline on his moustache and peering open mouthed at himself in a shaving mirror.
She pulled out her phone. There was a message from Qaseem. It must have come in when she was running.
Sorry to inform you... Bashira has disappeared. I just discovered she's been missing from school for the last five days. Trying to find out more... Q
Bashira missing? Her mind whirled with the possibilities. Could her family have found her at last and removed her? Or might she have...
"What are you young ladies up to today? Going to put your bikinis on and go for a swim?"
Distracted, Molly looked up. Merve grinned at her and blew his moustache clippings off the table.
"Not today. It's pissing down for a start and that pool's only a metre deep." Molly answered out of politeness. They were all going to be in the caravan for the next five days after all.
In the background her sister hovered with a smug 'I told you so' smile.
Several ginger hairs billowed into Molly's cereal. She grimaced and pushed her cereal away, returning to her text. Perhaps Bashira had run away to get married? She was 18. Most girls of her age would be married by now... It was 1.30 in the afternoon in Kabul. She'd call Qaseem later when he was home from the university.
Nan brought Merv his breakfast and sat down next to her lodger with a cup of tea.
"Here, Molly, you'll never guess who I just bumped into?"
"No, you're right Nan, I wouldn't."
"Belinda - she's staying with the kids in a caravan on the next door site. Isn't that a coincidence?"
Molly stared at her. She couldn't quite believe it. Even her Nan couldn't go that far.
"You didn't."
Nan just beamed back at her seemingly oblivious.
"Bleeding hell Nan. You did."
"I did what Molly? She made a big show of rummaging inside her bag for something. "I told Belinda to come round for a gas after breakfast. She's going to bring the kids swimming."
Nan smiled at Molly's shocked face. "Don't worry. Dave didn't come with them. He's busy in London."
"Dad busy? You do surprise me!"
"Seems he's turned over a new leaf!" Nan laughed as if she was telling a private joke.
Molly smiled bitterly. "He might be my Dad, Nan but he's a twat and he upsets me."
"Well you're lucky you ain't married to him. I always said, it's your mother you need to feel sorry for."
Molly gazed out of the window. It had been three years since she'd seen her mother. She wondered what it would be like.
She shrugged: "Be nice to see the little bleeders again, I suppose."
"They're not little bleeders any more, I call them the ASBOs now."
"They don't have ASBOs Nan!"
"Nah, I'm only joking." Nan turned round at the sounds of voices outside. "That sounds like them now."
Molly watched each of them troop into the caravan. For three years she'd had a mental picture of them in her head and they'd changed into grown up versions. Her baby brother, just two when she last saw him, was a five year old now, a little bruiser with shaved blond hair and a wild-looking, grubby face. He looked at Molly curiously without any trace of recognition and she felt tears pricking the back of her eyes as she realised he didn't know her at all.
"Where is she then?" Molly heard her mum's familiar voice outside and she looked anxiously as Belinda appeared in the doorway. She looked older somehow, tired, there was grey in her hair.
Molly was overwhelmed. "I'm here Mum," she flustered.
"Look at you. My Molly. All grown up." Her mum was breathless and Molly could see she didn't know what to do either.
"Not too old. Still your baby girl inside."
"Oh Molly, you'll always be my baby girl."
They should have been hugging now, Molly thought, shakily. But they weren't. They were just looking at each other, surrounded by her baffled siblings.
"Mum, can we play outside?"
"No you can't. Come and meet your oldest sister. She's a star – a hero – you'll never meet anyone more brave than my Molly."
"And she was given a medal by the Queen," Nan called from the bedroom. "You show her some respect."
They stood hesitant, wary to make the first move.
"Oh you lot!" chided Belinda. "Come here Molly and give your old mum a hug."
"Right, come on you Asbos. Let's go to the pool and give your mum and Molly a bit of peace." Nan appeared unexpectedly from the bedroom in a hot pink bikini, which dazzled with silver sequins.
Bella started laughing: "Blimey Nan, you could have warned us. I'd have put on my shades."
"Careful Mum you'll give the rozzer a coronary," joked Belinda."
They all looked over at Merv, now engrossed in The Police Review.
Belinda turned back to Molly: "Seriously though Molls, doesn't Nan look great in a bikini. All that hard work at boot camp is paying off."
"Boot camp?"
"Don't sound so surprised. Why can't I have just as nice a body as the next person?"
"It's ever so expensive. She only goes because she fancies one of her trainers," teased Belinda."
"Really Nan?"
"Ooh, he's probably 30 years younger than me, but he's a dish. He's got lovely blond hair and a great arse. Me and Linda keep eyeing up his bottom from the back when he does them squats."
"You're just one of those cheetahs, you got no shame, mum."
"Duh! Cougar, you mean," said Bella.
"Cougar? Yes well one of them anyway. You know dirty old females that mate with younger men. You wouldn't believe it Molly. She goes there fully made up, dressed in a tiny vest and hot pink cycling shorts and comes back all heaving with lust."
"Nan!"
"I can't help it if that sexy Arse Vegas is all flirtatious and wiggles his bum at me! At my age you gotta grab your chances wherever they come from."
"Arse Vegas?"
The penny dropped.
"Bas Vegas you mean?"
"That's it. Bas Vegas. I keep forgetting. Me and Linda call him Arse Vegas cos he's got such a tight arse."
"And what does Arse Vegas call you then? Asked Belinda"
Nan giggled: "My naughty ladies up the back". Anyway, how do you know his name Molly?"
"Oh God! Don't ask." Molly tried to put the image of Bas Vegas wiggling his bum at her oversexed Nan firmly out of her nut. It was too much. "Where's Dad?"
"He's at home. He's got an allotment now. You wouldn't believe it, Molly. He's built a whole lot of greenhouses on it and he has to stay back to water the plants otherwise they'll die."
"Dad? A gardener?"
"I know. But he's struggled to find work and all he can get are those crap zero hour contracts, you know where you turn up on the day and if they don't need you to work, they'll send you home again without any readies."
"I thought he was on the sick?"
"He was. But then some man came and did some sort of work incapability test and decided he was fit and cut his benefits." It's been a right nightmare Molly."
"But how does the allotment earn him money?"
Belinda looked round to see if Merv was listening: "Draw," she whispered.
"Drawer?"
"Shh. Yes, you know, blow."
"What, in his greenhouse? Dad's growing dope on the allotment? Oh God I've heard it all now."
"Right," interrupted Nan deliberately. "Let's get on down to the pool, before it fills up with kiddy pee."
"Pee in the pool? Yuck! I'm not going."
"Well what are you going to do instead Bella?"
"Buy a magazine, and then sit down and call Jay."
"Aww, she can't be apart from him for even a couple of days, poor love," commiserated Belinda. "Molly, why don't we get one of those fancy iced coffees and go and sit under an umbrella on the beach."
"That sounds nice."
Belinda put her arms round Molly as they stood outside the van: "You alright, girl? I've missed you so much."
"Why didn't you call me back mum?" Molly couldn't hold back. "I don't remember how many times I left you messages."
"Your dad was so angry," Belinda explained as she moved towards the shops. "Then when his benefits were cut, we really struggled and, I dunno Molly, I couldn't call you. I began to think Dave was right, that you should support your family when they're battling."
"I know you shouldn't expect your children to support you, that's not right... and over the years your dad's made some wrong choices, but we really needed support then, Molly."
"I wasn't there because I didn't want to be, mum. I wasn't there because Dad kicked me out. You could have called me at any time and I'd have helped you, you know that. I just didn't want to feed Dad's beer and fag habit."
She thought again about Bashira. If only her mum could understand what she'd been through, why she felt obliged to look after her.
"Yeah, well your dad doesn't deal with things very well. He's a toss pot when he wants to be and don't think I haven't thought of leaving him; I have more times than I'd like to tell you, but I don't know how I'd survive on my own. The boys would be devastated without their father..." Belinda broke off, as they arrived at the coffee shop.
She pointed at a caramel iced coffee with whipped cream. ""Ooh, shall I have one of those?" Not good for the hips, but what the hell." She sighed. "I'm on holiday."
"You can have what you want mum." Molly pulled out her purse. "My treat."
She paid for the coffees and they carried them wordlessly to a couple of damp sun beds under an umbrella.
Belinda stared out to the grey foamy sea: "I thought beaches were sunny places Molly. Not raining like this! Some holiday,"
"It's okay mum," Molly blurted out, rashly holding her mother's hand. "I know what Dad's like. I've lived with him too!"
Her mother didn't turn round.
"I've watched you struggle over the years. You can talk to me about it. I'll listen and I won't judge..."
"No," Belinda interrupted, withdrawing from Molly's hand. "If I start talking out loud, it might become too real. I might just find the balls to leave."
Belinda looked round and patted Molly's arm in a fragile attempt at lightness: "He's all mouth and no trousers anyway, love."
My mum doesn't need this, thought Molly. She wants a good holiday away from home and some laughs.
Belinda took a quick sip of coffee and said brightly. "Mmm. This is yummy coffee."
"You've got a creamy moustache!"
"Have I?"
"It's thicker than Dirty Merv's!"
They both giggled. Belinda rummaged into her plastic handbag for a tissue and found something else: "Here, I've got something for you. We haven't had any post for you for a long time, but this arrived last week. She handed Molly a thick cream envelope.
Still feeling guilty for pushing her mum Molly turned it over. Her soul lifted when she saw her name written in inky italic strokes. She stared at it trying to still the sudden beating of her heart. For a second she thought it was something to do with Bashira's disappearance, then she realised that was impossible.
"Looks posh," Belinda said.
Molly didn't answer. She was too busy wondering why Charles would be writing to her now.
A/n I'm sorry it has taken so long to update this chapter. I have been distracted by RL and to be honest had a crisis of confidence about my writing, the story and not doing enough smut for a definite smut-loving FF crowd - typical mid-story blues, I guess. Thank you for your patience and your support and especially to everyone who contacted me, demanding more! That really helped. There will also be more smut on the way, I promise...
